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The Crossroads of Fate
Date: 23 September 2006, 6:59 pm

Writer's notes:
1. There's no official chapter format in the story as of yet. I intend to finish it completely first, before adding in the chapters and such. However, do note that each section and update is seperated by a *** line break just for it.

2. The following story is Halo 2 / F.E.A.R. Crossover, and as such the characters, locations and setting belongs to Bungie and Monolith Inc wherever applicable.

3. This update contains primarily the initial chunk of story completed since 2005, with the latest update being dated September 23rd, 2006. Its still in progress, but is slated for completion sometime around november or december this year. Subsequent updates can be found either here, or at my fanfiction.net account (just search for Crossroads of Fate there).

4. Any feedback and constructive criticism is welcome. Remember - if you dont like it, you dont have to read it. If you do like it though, please feel free to drop a line or comments either here, or at my email address.

5. Thanks!

Regards,
Singh

**

In the depths of the forerunner ship, he looked on at the vast structure surrounding him.

His armor bruised, burned and battered, the only thing that shone anymore was the visor covering his face – and even that was so scratched up; it was surprising he could still see through it. The olive green armor that covered his entire body was smeared by several black spots where the impact of plasma bolts, shotgun shells and bullets had singed, burned or dented it.

It was a miracle he was still alive, that much was for sure. Checking his weapon, he saw that it had been smashed significantly by the impact. Discarding it, the Master Chief instead withdrew one of the pistols he had picked up from the flood he had fought on the way here.

And yet, he hoped for a miracle that would ensure that the person he left behind would stay alive.

Taking an unsteady step forwards, Master Chief John 117 continued to look around for an opening – some sort of exit from this area. It appeared to be underneath a large engine complex of sorts – probably a storage or loading area that had been added on by the Covenant in the generations the ship had remained aboard high charity. But there was no way out of here, and the massive doors behind him were sealed shut. Not that he'd want to go out anyway – they would be about to hit Earth atmosphere now. Although the Mjnolnir armor was tough, it wasn't that tough to survive re-entry all the way in. Space wasn't any better either.

Thinking about space, the Master Chief shuddered. He remembered the comrades he had lost at Reach; some of them ending up floating helplessly in space. He hated the vacuum, for it meant leaving the ground, and gravity – both conditions where he was in his element. Floating around in the vacuum didn't let him do anything, and only made him a target. He was ineffective there, unable to finish or do anything...

Pushing the thoughts aside, however, he continued to look. There was a mission to complete, and he had to stop the prophet before he activated the rings. The Master Chief could only hope that Cortona was able to hold out at her end.

Finally, after several seconds, he found an exit. It was on the other side of the room; and came in the form of a ladder. The ladder appeared to lead to a door that was hidden behind several columns. He could barely see it; and had only picked it up on the Infrared sensors in his helmet. It was nestled away quite well.

The Master chief didn't waste any time, running full-tilt towards the ladder, and then jumping on it such that he was already half-way up by the time he started to climb. Within a second, he reached the top, and then continued to run forwards. The pathway appeared hastily constructed, and had no side rails whatsoever. It disappeared into the wall however, turning a corner just a few feet in. The ceiling was quite low – he'd have to hunch to avoid it. It must have been meant for either grunts or jackals – Elites would hardly be comfortable in it, while Brutes would certainly not fit. This could prove to his advantage.

Stooping low, he waited just before turning the corner, listening for signs of activity. There were none. He'd normally just use the optical extension to scout around the corner, but deploying and withdrawing it would take time – besides, if anyone was here, they would have surely spotted him by now.

Turning the corner, pistol primed and ready, the Master Chief was relieved to see nobody on guard. Only the door was there, and it was open. The corridor that lay beyond was far; far different from the ones he had gone through on most other Covenant ships. The corridor walls were a dull grey color. However, several bright blue veins ran through them, casting the entire corridor in an eerie twilight.

It would have bothered him, but for some reason, it seemed oddly familiar – almost as if he had seen this before. The feeling kept nagging him at the back of his head as he walked down the corridor.

After nearly a minute, he approached a dead end, where the corridor split off to either side in a large 'T' junction. Looking both left and right, he saw that it was clear. But where was he going to go? Getting a map wasn't possible – covenant systems were bad enough, but forerunner systems? Without Cortona to help, there was no way he could get access to the maps. He was going to have to improvise, from the looks of it.

Taking a right, he slowly moved down the corridor, keeping a sharp ear out for any hostile movement. The Master Chief noticed, however, that despite walking for quite a bit, there weren't many doors at all. The ones that he did try to access were almost always locked.

It was odd....why was the entire area empty? Normally one would expect guards or the like, at the very least, a few roaming patro-.

From up ahead, a noise interrupted his thoughts - the sound of slow, heavy footfalls echoing through the corridor.

Speak of the devil he thought to himself. Looking around, the Master Chief searched for some sort of cover. There was a door nearby to his right, but walking up to it produced no result – it was locked up fairly tight. Looking at the console to the right, he tried to manipulate it, working it. The controls were vaguely like that of the Covenant's. The screen behind the visor translated the symbols to their approximate human equivalents. He realized that the door wasn't locked – just not under automatic control. He set it to open manually, and then lock up immediately afterwards.

With a soft swoosh, the doors split apart, revealing a somewhat dark room beyond. Switching to night vision, the master chief realized that the room was nothing more than a supply cabinet.

Quickly stepping in, he watched as the doors closed quickly, plunging the room back into the darkness.

He had to wait for sometime as the footfalls grew louder and louder, till, finally, they came to outside his door. They seemed to stop for a few seconds just outside it, however. The Master Chief quietly removed the safety off the pistol, prepared for the worst. If it was brutes, then this would be a difficult scenario indeed. But still, he had been through worse.

And he always won.
He sat there, tense for nearly a minute, about ready to pounce at the door. But then, finally the footsteps continued moving on.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the Master Chief looked around for anything useful. There was only what looked like cleaning equipment here, as well as detergents that the Covenant might have used. The room itself was tiny; barely enough to accommodate him and all the equipment. A glowing console nearby provided the only light with which he could see in the normal spectrum.

Manipulating the console, he opened the doors, pistol drawn and ready. But when he looked out, there was no-one. Whomever it was had walked away, from the looks of it.

Taking this as a sign of good luck, the Master Chief didn't waste any time, moving as fast as he could through the corridor while still maintaining a degree of stealth.

He kept on moving down the hall, coming across a junction a few seconds later.

There were sounds here again – mostly growls and footsteps. This time coming from the left side of the junction. Snaking the optical instrument around the corner, he took a quick peek at the other side. Three Jackals had gathered here – two were wielding shields and another, a sniper rifle. One of the ones with the shields was facing towards the junction, while the other was just leaning against the wall, staring into nowhere. Just past the junction was a large window of the view outside. The third jackal with the sniper rifle was looking just past this, at what appeared to be a storm they were traveling through. It was facing away from the Master Chief.

He needed a way to draw them out. But it wouldn't be easy. But then, fighting the Covenant rarely ever was. Checking the pistol, he nodded to himself. It was time to act.

Without a second thought, and with blinding speed, the Master Chief hurled himself around the corridor, throwing a punch at the jackal on the right with one hand, while using the other to shoot the other Jackal's head over the shield.

They didn't even have time to react. The one on the left crumpled almost immediately, while the one on the right barely had time to look in his direction before his punch smashed it's face in, spilling blood on the wall next to him. He brought the gun up at the last jackal, which had whirled around and was now raising its gun to face him. But when he pulled the trigger, it only clicked.

Not wasting any time, he immediately threw the pistol up, grabbed it by the barrel, and then flung it at the last Jackal before ducking to the side. The pistol hit the jackal in the chin, knocking it's head back with a resounding and somewhat sick snap. The Jackal did manage to get off a shot, though, which barely missed where the Master Chief's head was a mere half a second ago.

Getting up, he immediately grabbed the beam rifle as well as the Covenant's plasma pistols. They would serve to be somewhat useful in the upcoming fights.

Running down the corridor, the Master Chief ran by the window, only glancing out to try and get a rough grasp of where they were.

Then he froze. Turning, he faced the window fully, staring out at the storm.

He had just seen something – something out of the corner of his eye that, even with his reflexes, he barely noticed. It had been something in the clouds that had gathered outside. Something strange.....

It had looked like a face.

He attempted to discount it to fatigue, or just a random cloud formation. But even in that glance – even in that momentary glimpse of it...it had looked so real.

Then the Master Chief studied the storm itself.

It raged outside the craft; as if the ship itself was stationary and the storm was around it. But yet, the Master Chief knew – staying still would be suicide for the Prophet, and he wouldn't be so stupid as to merely stand in one place – not when potentially hundreds of anti-aircraft guns could be fired at the craft. This was no Covenant cruiser after all – far smaller, it was probably significantly more vulnerable to such things.

But even if they were moving....the storm must have been following them, or at least be very, very large for it to remain there as long as it did. Storms would be no threat to the forerunner ship itself; but still....

As the Master Chief looked on, he could feel a chill run down his spine. He had seen some pretty disturbing things before, but none of them disturbed them as did this storm. He didn't know what it was about the storm, but it was downright creepy to even look at it. The way the clouds boiled and rumbled indicated as if they were reacting....reacting to his gaze and curiosity, almost.

Shaking himself off the view, the Master Chief focused on his mission. There was no time to go site-seeing....too much depended on him now, too many people were counting on him to win this war.

Then the entire ship lurched , as if something had hit it. The Master Chief staggered, catching his balance quickly. The lights went dim, while the veins in the walls surrounding shifted colors from a pale blue to a bright white and yellow mix. Looks like the entire ship had gone into battle stations, or something similar.

Then he heard it – a loud explosion emerging from somewhere nearby. Apparently, someone or something had managed to hit the ship badly enough to have made a difference.

Breaking into a run, he forgot all guise of stealth and ran full-tilt down the hall. As he passed, he recognized several signs on the way. They were similar to the ones he had seen on covenant ships. The nearest one was the detention centre. He made it his choice of targets – if he could get there and neutralize the guards, he'd have access to a lot more weapons, at the very least. And from the looks of it, if a Covenant computer was there, he'd at least be able to get a map as well.

Running down the corridors, he managed to avoid a few of the patrols that were running to the scene of the recent incident. Maintaining some stealth helped him as he ducked into an unused room here and there as patrols went by. It was nothing but sheer, incredible luck that not one of them managed to catch him as he made his way to the junction near the cell blocks. Here, he saw that there were two brutes guarding the doorway. One was wielding a plasma rifle, while the other a Covenant carbine.

The odds simply couldn't get any better.

Both were located at the centre junction where three corridors met. The Master Chief was at the right side of this junction, at the end of a long corridor. Creeping around the corner, he brought the rifle's sight up and aimed at the nearest Brute before letting loose a shot that went clear through its head, dropping it to the ground. Within a fraction of a second, he fired again on the second brute, flooring it as well. The beam rifle overcharged from the quick fire, spitting out hot steam from the plasma battery. Putting it aside, the Master Chief wielded both of the plasma pistols and then charged out from behind cover to the doors.

Within two seconds, he was already approaching the doors – however, he could see that they were opening, possibly allowing for re-enforcements to come through.

Not to be overwhelmed, however, the Master Chief pressed the triggers on both the plasma pistols, bringing them up to overcharge. As he approached the doors, he made a massive leap in mid-air, turning his body around to face the door as it flew past. The doors opened, revealing the faces of two brutes that began to step forward. Their faces grew in surprise as they saw the Master Chief fly past at unnatural speeds.

And then their faces were no longer as both the plasma bolts smashed into them, the heat causing one of them to scream and collapse onto the ground as the plasma did its work. The other just stood there, his body limp and about to collapse.

The Master Chief didn't waste any time; he rolled and recovered from the drop, immediately reaching for and picking up a Covenant Carbine. Bringing it up, the Master Chief charged the still-standing Brute's body, smashing into it and using it as a shield as he charged into the room, expecting a hail of fire to come after him.

But none did.

Instead, he heard, as well as felt, the loud howling sound of the wind as air rushed to escape into low pressure. Looking on into the room, for once in his life, the Master Chief was truly and completely horrified at what he saw.

The entire room was large, holding several cells on two levels. At the end of the room, beyond a large central pillar, there appeared to be an airlock that at one point of time must have been heavily guarded – however, where the airlock doors one were there was only a large gaping hole showing the boiling and rumbling clouds beyond it. He could see the faint flicker of a containment screen as it tried to hold the atmosphere in, succeeding only partially on doing so.

What was most striking however, were two things:

The first and the most obvious, was the thing that had lodged itself firmly in the central pillar. From the databanks in the suit, he recognized it as a Terran helicopter – a motorized helicopter, and an extremely old variety, too. Nobody used things like this anymore, much less against the Covenant.

The Chopper was smashed to bits, almost – the blades were strewn over the entire room, some of the bits impaling various brutes and jackals nearby.

What was surprising, however, was that the body itself was still intact. Normally, any impact at the kind of velocities they were thinking about would have utterly vaporized the helicopter, much less only destroy its blades. Not only had it survived the initial impact, but it had punched through the Forerunner ship's shields and armor, and then somehow stayed intact till it hit the pillar, at which point it only lost the blades, and not much else.

The second most startling thing, however, was probably the most disturbing.

In the various cells surrounding him, lay skeletons. The insides of each cell however, seemed almost entirely covered with blood – some to the point where it formed a pool nearly an inch thick. He recognized the skeletons as having belonged to Covenant grunts, elites and maybe even hunters. But what could have done this? Not even Brutes were that...brutal, so to speak. Not even they would resort to such a thing. It was almost as if the muscles and flesh of the victims had spontaneously liquefied, leaving behind only the hardened skeleton.

Then, all of a sudden, a wave of static blasted through his radio. Turning it down didn't help as the Master Chief looked on. Despite turning the volume all the way down to zero, the static remained on his channel.

Then the Master Chief saw it. What it was, was a human leg, sticking out from the rubble of the helicopter. Rushing to it, the master chief knelt down beside it, placing the carbine to one side. He started digging through the rubble that had fallen on the pilot, attempting to clear as much as possible.

Eventually, after a few seconds, he was able to clear out enough to see the person's face. It was definitely a male, but the face was covered almost entirely by a gas mask. The uniform was that of no known special operations or UNSC force –classified or unclassified. Revealing more of the person also revealed the extent of the injuries. He realized with a fair bit of grimness, that the person wasn't going to survive for more than a half hour longer, and would probably remain unconscious.

However, his hypothesis was proven wrong, when, in the next moment, the person immediately gasped for air, opening both eyes. He looked up at the Master Chief and wheezed.

Then, all of a sudden, faster than even the Master Chief himself could perceive, the man grabbed his head and brought it down closer to his face. The Master Chief was about to react when the man finally spoke, wheezing during the sentences as he did so...

"You have to stop her...please....I beg of you, stop her before it's too late!'

This caught the Master Chief off guard. Rather than resisting the grip, however, the Master Chief instead asked.

"Stop who? And who are you?"

"NO TIME! Just stop her! Alma....she can't get loose onto the rest of the planet. Otherwise everyone's dead. She'll kill everyone! And she won't stop for any other soul!"

The Master Chief was about to say something when another burst of static came through the speaker, following shortly by the low giggle of a young girl.

His head snapped up, looking around for the source. He had definitely heard that, for sure. Or had he?

Looking back down at the person, he saw through the man's visors that his eyes were wide, with shock, awe and terror.

"My God, she's here! Alma's here!" He screamed as the Master Chief, pushing him away and reaching for a weapon.

"Run! Run! Run! Run! RUN! RUN! RUN!" he kept screaming at the Master Chief, repeating the same word over and over again.

The giggle came again, followed by a short laugh. This time, however, it was just behind him.

Whirling around, he looked for a sign of threat – only to find her.

She was a small child; barely perhaps 8 or 9, with long, black hair that covered most of her face and upper body. She was wearing a short white skirt that gave her an almost creepy aura.

She whispered, slowly, softly at the master chief. Even though it was barely a whisper, it still reverberated far louder than the screams of the person next to him.

"I know who you are." the little girl whispered, before reaching out to touch him.

That single touch, that single moment of contact was so powerful, it dented the chest plate of the Mjnolnir armor, and drove him back several dozen feet, to smash into the wall. He barely survived the impact, however judging from the insane pain in his gut, the girl had probably broken a rib or two. Still, the master chief got up, looking for the girl again, and this time getting ready to follow the advice of now-silent stranger.

A second later, however, he noticed as blackness began to form around him. It appeared to be a vortex of sorts; one that was around half his torso's size. However, it began to grow rapidly, and then duplicate itself to cover him almost entirely. The last thing the master chief felt was a massive punch to the stomach, before the world went black around him.

******

Sadhal huddled up in the cell as best as he could, trying to stay comfortable. He glanced past the force field at the Brutes standing guard. They ignored him, for the most part, and continued to just laze around the prison block.

Traitors...all traitors.

He thought, looking back at the wall. Sadhal considered how he had gotten here, and of the prophet himself.

He had been one of the chosen few that were originally meant to guard the forerunner ship. The recent changing of the guards to the Brutes had, surprisingly, not reached the ship yet, despite having taken place everywhere else in High Charity. This was probably because he was meant to guard the engine room, and operate the equipment – something which the Brutes were not completely competent at.

And yet, the Prophet had ordered the Brutes to take over, and to lock Sadhal up for now. He did not know...should he be thankful for good luck? Or, considering what the Brutes were capable of....was he really unlucky?

In either case, he was an Elite, the arm of the prophets. Even though the Prophets had betrayed him, betrayed them, they would still fight. He had to fight. For the sake of his brothers, for the sake of the fallen.

The Prophets had betrayed him...betrayed all the Elites. Vengeance would be theirs that much was for sure. If not now...

No....Sadhal looked back up at the Brutes...he would bide his time and wait. Eventually, one of them would slip and something would happen. He would wait for that moment...that opportunity...and then he would strike.

The ship shook suddenly, forcing him to grab the sides to balance out and prevent from hitting the floor. Looking out, he saw some of the Brutes had fallen down. Their comrades quickly moved to help them back up. Something had hit the ship, from the looks of it.

Sadhal continued to watch the Brutes as they got agitated. A few of them checked their radios and communicated with command personnel elsewhere.

And then the sirens began to ring.

Sadhal looked up. He recognized the sirens – an intruder alert. But who could have boarded the ship? There was virtually no way to know from in here. Still, he watched and waited.

The Brutes began to run for the weapons' racks, grabbing their red plasma rifles and the brute shots.

Then the ship shook again, but this time only slightly. Sadhal wondered what was going on. Could the prophet's insane plan have backfired, and the humans were actually managing to stop them? Perhaps...in either case, he watched as the Brutes looked around nervously. Around half of them went towards the door, obviously headed out to intercept the intruder.

In the events that followed, the first thing Sadhal felt – or rather heard, was a very, very strange sound.

It was definitely human, that was for sure. But it....it was so odd. It was somewhat high pitched, much more than an Adult's normally would be. From what he remembered of the Human's culture and society, it sounded like a child, a female child's. But what was a female human child doing onboard a forerunner ship?

He watched as the Brutes walked towards the doors, all of them looking around quite nervously. Apparently they heard the sound too. As they approached the doors, however, it slid open before they got anywhere close to it.

And then he saw her.

She was a small girl, around the same height as a Jackal. She was dressed in a single white gown, which had smudges of red blood on it. Her hair obscured most of her face, and hung all the way down to her shoulders.

The Brutes reacted almost immediately. With a loud roar, they raised their rifles and opened fire at the girl. Visibly, she didn't move, didn't appear to speak anything. But still, everyone could feel her voice as she giggled again. Before the first plasma bolt even touched her, her body fell into ashes, disappearing almost completely.

The Brutes were confused, looking back and forth and making sweeps of the area, searching for the little girl. Sadhal got off the floor and stood, watching them.

Another laugh – and this time the girl reappeared.

That...that's impossible he thought to himself, as the girl appeared and crossed from one end of the cell complex to the other within the blink of an eye. She was definitely walking, but walking so fast that he had missed it almost completely.

What was more horrifying, however, was what happened to the Brutes.

Black vortexes began to appear around one of the Brutes, who promptly began to scream in pain. These vortices duplicated rapidly till they surrounded the Brute almost completely. Even more began to appear and surrounded the rest of the brutes near the door. The ones that had stood guard near his cell ran forward to help.

Another laugh and Sadhal saw her again. He took a step back as more vortexes appeared; this time closer to him and the Brutes outside the cell. Now that they were closer, he could hear them....the screams. Ones of pain, of denial...of rage. They reverberated through the walls and the air, and in a sense, through his very soul.

From the Vortexes, several things appeared. They were vaguely humanoid in shape, but had no lower body. They flew through the air, emitting that same loud scream. They flew till they hit the Brutes, completely passing through them. The Brutes had no chance to react. They immediately screamed out in pain and fell over, dead. There had been no struggle, no chance to fire weapons.

Once they fell, however, Sadhal got a full view of the scene just beyond them.

He had seen many a thing in his lifetime, and even had the horror of witnessing firsthand what the Flood did to Covenant flesh. But this....this surpassed that in terms of sheer horror and disgust by far.

Where the Brutes near the door had been, there was only...blood. Blood and skeletons. The blood was all over the floor and the walls – there was so much that it almost seemed like their flesh had turned to liquid, and then exploded in an area around them. It was disgusting to the core, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for the Brutes.

Then the laughter came again. He blinked.

And then she was in front of the force field.

The little girl was in front of the force field. Not less than three meters from him. Slowly, Sadhal backed away from here. If she had been responsible for all this...

Then he began to back away a bit faster.

She whispered, slowly. He couldn't see her lips move, yet a voice uttered out from them.

"I can feel you....yet...I cannot touch you."

As if to illustrate her point, she reached forwards, and hesitantly touched the force field.

What happened next completely surprised Sadhal. The moment she touched the force field, she screamed.

Her scream was so loud and so powerful; it physically drove Sadhal back into the wall, forcing him to bring his hands to his head in an attempt to block it. She continued to scream and scream and scream to no end. He could feel a pressure begin to build up as she continued. The pain in his ears was indescribable, building up almost at the same rate as the girl's.

It continued to build up till his head felt like it would explode from the pressure.

And then it stopped.

Sadhal opened his eyes, only to find the little girl gone.

So was the force field, however.

Looking left and right, he tepidly stepped forwards, unsure of what to do.

Who was that girl? How had she done what she did to the Brutes?

Questions filled his mind. The most pressing of which was was she going to return?

In either case, he needed to get moving. Staying here would not be a wise idea at all, especially if she returned.

He activated the armor's shield (thankfully they hadn't removed that) and then stepped out of the cell. Not hesitating one bit, he grabbed one of the dead Brute's plasma rifles.

Carefully stepping towards and then around the blood spattered area near the door, he ran out, not giving a single glance back.

At first, he was unsure where to go. He looked left and right, only to find the corridor empty. To his right were two more skeletons, similarly liquefied like the Brutes inside.

Sadhal realized he was going to need help, wherever he went. The forerunner ship had another containment complex for prisoners. And if he recalled correctly, there were several other grunts and elite guards that had been on the ship when the Brutes came. They would have been held in the other complex as opposed to this one.

Turning down to his left, Sadhal ran as fast as he could. Whatever the force field had done to the girl, it may just have been a temporary setback, meaning she could come back at any moment. He did not want to stay in one place to let her catch him, however.

Running through the corridors, he heard it again.

The laughter was softer this time, coming from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Sadhal only increased the pace as he saw the little girl walk perpendicular through the intersection he had just come through, before disappearing into ashes again.

From the direction she was going, she would head up to the bridge of the ship. Good...as long as he got as far away from him as possible, he couldn't care less.

He was approaching the cell complex now. Then, as he turned the corridor, he screeched to a halt.

Three dead jackals lay in the corridor just ahead of him. He had seen a lot of bodies along the way here, so it should not be surprising. However, what was interesting was how these Jackals had died.

One had its face smashed inwards by a somewhat large and significant force. Another had its neck snapped, killing it instantly. The third however, had been shot clearly by a human weapon.

Humans...here? he thought to himself. It would explain how the Girl got here. But these jackals had not died by her hand. It meant that someone else was here and had already boarded the craft.

Stepping over the bodies, he looked out the window next to them.

There was a storm outside the window; one that seemed unnatural...eerie, in a sense. It stayed with the ship, making it look as if it was stationary. Sadhal knew the truth however, was that the ship had to be moving. But yet, the storm kept up with them. How was that even possible?

There was definitely something odd going on here.

Wasting no time, he ran down the corridor and followed signs to the cell blocks. He came up to the intersection leading to it, and turned into the corridor outside the block.

Outside the cell block itself, he found two Brutes that had been killed in a similar fashion – except this time by Plasma weapons. They were outside the doors - guards obviously. He walked down the corridor slowly, wielding the rifle ahead of him. When he reached the bodies, he squatted down, examining the marks. Both had been killed only recently, and had been sniped, possibly from the corridor from which he had turned in.

He looked up at the Cell doors themselves. Listening carefully, he could hear a low howling coming in from behind the doors. Getting up, he approached them. They opened, revealing the room beyond.

The howl immediately picked up in intensity and volume. He saw that it came from a massive hole in the wall to the other end of the cell block, where the storm was clearly visible. A force field kept the air in, but however it didn't soundproof it either. The howl of the storm, along with the occasional rumble of thunder came through at full intensity.

Then he noticed the massive object that had collided in the central column. It looked like no Terran object he'd seen before. It had crashed into the pillar and caused significant damage to the power systems, cutting off the force fields to the various cells. Looking into the cells however, brought only despair. All but one of the cells held bodies, all of which had been liquefied just like the Brutes in the other complex.

It was obvious, that the Girl had come from here – from this object. But how had she survived the crash? How had she managed to make it out? Indeed, why had she killed the prisoners in one way, and yet left the Brutes and the Jackals the way she had?

Turning to his left, his answer soon became visible, shocking him to the core.

Sadhal simply stared at it in shock.

Or rather, him.

Buried almost half a meter in the wall to his extreme left, Sadhal saw the last person he was expecting on this ship, indeed, the last person anywhere near such a holy relic. He nearly dropped his rifle in surprise, but quickly recovered, raising it.

Covered with dust, the blue coolants that had spilled over his suit glimmered off the shields that covered the olive-green armor. The Visor, although cracked, obscured his face to the Covenant elite, much like it had to the countless number he had killed. However, it was the armor that the person wore that identified him to the Covenant, and that which had given him the name, 'Demon'.

The Demon was here.

The Demon was right in front of him.

What horrified Sadhal most, however, was that the Demon was dead – or at least, looked like it. What force; indeed, what individual could have been so powerful as to kill him? The Demon alone had managed to destroy one of the holy rings, as well as one of the Prophets. Yet, this warrior had been fallen. But by whom?

A sickening thought came across Sadhal's mind.

The girl... Could it have been her? But why would she kill members of her own species? And if she was capable of taking the demon out....did he even stand a chance?

Sadhal noticed the beam rifle lying near the body.

Taking a step forward, Sadhal kept his weapon up. He would need the rifle, and it was best to at least check and ensure he was dead.

He stepped closer to the Demon, unsure what exactly to do. The Beam rifle was on the other side. Carefully, cautiously, he pointed the rifle at the Demon's head, ready to fire at the moment he moved. But the Demon remained still, his limbs limp. It was now that Sadhal noticed a significant dent in the chest plate. Whatever had hit him had done so with great force, possibly killing him. There were cracks all over the armor, as well as burn marks everywhere. It was quite obvious the Demon had just come from extensive combat.

The shield shimmered as the coolant continued to drop on the Demon, still remaining active. It was a miracle it was still working considering the incredible punishment the armor had taken. But then, knowing what the Demon had done and how he had done it, Sadhal wasn't really surprised.

He glanced at the Beam rifle, and then stretched over the body to reach it. He stole another glance at the Demon to check whether or not he was moving before looking back at the rifle...

...only to find himself staring right down the length of the barrel.

"Don't move."

The demon spoke out from next to him, his voice low, yet strained.

Sadhal was about to say something when the Demon coughed, and then dropped the rifle suddenly. His hand went limp and his body visibly stiffened in pain.

Sadhal simply took a step back and looked at the Demon, the plans of the getting the rifle out of his head. Instead, he simply raised the plasma rifle and prepared to fire.

The Demon, for his part, simply looked at Sadhal for a second, before he gave a slow nod and asked.

"You saw her...didn't you?"

The question....Sadhal looked at the Demon in surprise. He was unsure what to reply at this point. The Demon – he should just simply kill him here and now, ending a major problem for the Covenant. It was because of the Demon, that the prophet had died, that the elites had been removed. It was all because of him! And yet....yet what he had said about the little girl....

"Yes....who is she? What is she?" Sadhal asked, softly.

The Demon only turned his head to look at the wreckage. He raised his left hand slightly, pointing to it. Before whispering softly.

"Her name is Alma...He knows what she is...."

Sadhal looked at where the Demon was pointing in the wreckage. He could make out a body there; one dressed in grey and white and some unknown type of uniform that he hadn't seen before. The person was half-buried under the debris, but his eyes were not visible through the mask he was wearing, not allowing it to be clear whether he was alive or dead.

"Help him...he can stop her...."

With that, the Demon's head turned back to Sadhal. He didn't move. Rather than argue the point, Sadhal simply lowered his weapon and slowly walked towards the wreckage.

Why was he helping the Demon? Why couldn't he simply kill him right then and there itself? He had absolutely no reason to help him here. Yet...he was doing it. Yet, he had not killed the Demon. And yet, he was now going to help another Terran.

He thought to himself. It was because he no longer had a reason to kill the Demon. The Prophets had led them along this journey all along, and had betrayed them at the end. The Elites had been at their side for so long, only to be cast away in favor of the Brutes...and then, all of them had been murdered in cold blood.

All the other Elites could only think of the Terrans as an enemy. But he had had time in his cell...time to think, to contemplate. The Terrans were the enemy, but now so were the Prophets. Sadhal remembered an expression thought to him by his commanders, one that had rung quite true when it came to internal politics and the like. 'The enemy of my Enemy is my friend, even if only temporarily.'

The humans were determined to stop the Prophets. Maybe...just maybe, this was the opportunity that he had been waiting for. The chance for revenge that he so desperately desired.

And then, there was that little girl.

That little girl had killed everyone.

That little girl, if let loose. Would kill everyone. But then...did Sadhal actually care anymore about such things?

Then he remembered the Brutes, and how they died. He quietly shuddered at the memory. No...Nobody deserved to die like that.

But still, he had his questions. And unless he could find answers soon, he would have to deal with these humans one way or the other.

When Sadhal got to the rubble, he began to clear out the debris surrounding the human and then pulled him out. The human was unconscious, but still breathing, judging from the sound on the respirator.

Draping the man on one shoulder, he carried him back to the Demon and placed him alongside. Turning to the Demon, he spoke, asking him the question that had been burning in his mind till now.

"What are you doing here, Demon? How did you get onboard?"

The Demon, who had been looking at the door till now, simply looked up and stared at Sadhal.

Getting frustrated, Sadhal spoke louder, taking a step forward and raising his rifle, pointing it at the Demon.

"Answer me now, Demon, with the truth. If you want my help against this...Alma."

The Demon considered this for a moment and then slowly nodded.

"I Followed the Prophet from High Charity so that I could kill him before he activated Halo."

Straight to the point and the utter truth.

Sadhal only nodded in reply and lowered the weapon. He replied

"That is all I need to know."

The lights suddenly flickered around them. Sadhal took a step back, alarmed. He raised his rifle.

Then something grabbed his leg, pulling him down. Looking down, he was shocked to see the human he had just removed from the Debris had grabbed it.

His grip was vice-like, and Sadhal was unable to shake it. The human simply looked up at him and whispered.

"She's coming...."

The lights flickered again. And to his shock and horror, Sadhal heard a soft, high-pitched laugh of a little girl behind him.

"Move!"

Sadhal's reflexes took over immediately, responding to the command and leaping to the side almost instantly.

He was just in time as a purple beam of light streaked forth in the place he was occupying a few thousands of a second ago. It struck something behind him, however, giving off a flash of heat. The laughter he had heard just a minute ago vanished, leaving only silence in the air. He smelt burnt ashes, coming from somewhere behind him.

Rolling and coming back up, he looked around, rifle at the ready. This girl…this Alma…they would need some sort of protection from her. But how? She apparently had the ability to go anywhere she wished and kill from a distance. What could possibly stop her?

Then Sadhal remembered the force field in the other cell block. It had held her off – if at least for a little while. He had noticed a cell block still operational earlier. If they could get inside and activate the force field, it could just work here.

His thoughts were interrupted however, as several black vortices began to form on his right side near the door. He could hear several screams coming from them as the humanoid forms he had seen before began to emerge.

The first one streaked across space, towards him – coming in too fast for him to react in time.

When it was just a meter away from him however, Sadhal heard a loud explosion from somewhere behind him and the thing vaporized almost completely. Glancing back, he saw the uniformed human holding a smoking pistol in hand.

The Human's reflexes had to be amazing to get that shot off – better than any covenant Elite's, in fact. The fact that he hit as well was quite amazing. Still, he had to press on. Turning back, he shouted "Cover me!" before running towards a nearby control panel.

To his right, more vortices formed and more figures started to come out from them. By this time, the lights above them were flickering at a constant rate, casting the entire cell block into moments of near-pitch black and then light, making it appear as though the figure were moving in slow motion. The only lights came from the gunfire behind him, and the storm outside.

Both the Demon and the human opened fire at the vortices; taking out the beings before they could get near to Sadhal. He covered the distance to the control panel within three seconds. Taking a quick glance at the cell blocks, he saw that the crash had destroyed the controls for most of the cell's projectors – with exception of the empty cell.

Then the panel flickered on and off, and a Vortex opened to his immediate right. There was no time to react as immediately, a form came out and hit him dead on the side. It pushed him a distance, but Sadhal hanged onto the control panel. The shields flared to life, blocking the creature from going through. It simply vaporized to ashes, leaving him mostly intact. He looked at where the Vortex was and blinked. He should have been dead by now, judging from what had happened to the Brutes.

Could it be the shields had saved them till now? It could be entirely possible. After all, only the elites were the ones who used them. The Brutes realized on their in-bred toughness, while the Grunts and Jackals their superior numbers. Perhaps their failing would now be Sadhal's advantage. However, from what the impact had felt, the shields had been knocked down a fair bit. He could survive a hit or two, but after that he would be at the mercy of the beings.

Quickly catching his balance, he continued to work at the controls, setting the force field timer to activate for one minute, and then to deactivate after thirty minutes. It should buy them some time.

Turning around, he saw that the vortices were no longer focusing on him, but rather on the Demon and the other Human now. Both were firing at the beings, which were now pouring out non-stop. The Demon wielded had abandoned the beam rifle – its charge long since empty, and instead had switched to using a plasma pistol and brute plasma rifle combination.

The other human, for his part, continued to shoot with the pistol, stopping every few seconds to reload. But not one of the beings seemed to target him – those that made it past all flew over, going straight for the Demon.

Sadhal didn't need to be told anything, and started to fire from his end of the room instead. The high pitch noise and plasma weapons and pistols filled the air in the block.

He ran towards them, firing all the way. Their seemed to be no end in sight to the Vortices, and the high-pitched scream as they emitted the beings simply got louder every second. His shields managed to recharge along the way, which was good. He stopped shooting so that the others would hear him as he pointed at the Cell and shouted.

"In the cell! Get in there now!"

The Demon didn't look at him, but slowly began to get up. He visibly stiffened in pain as he did so, but for the most part, within two seconds he was able to stagger to his feet and was firing upon the beings once more.

Sadhal, for his part, simply leapt forwards and underneath the Demon's plasma cannon fire, coming up next to the other human that had lain there. The Human tried to get up, but was unable to. Sadhal grabbed him and tossed him over his shoulder, ignoring the cry of pain the human uttered as he did so.

He then ran as fast as he could towards the cell, with the Demon in close pursuit. They both dived into the cell nearly a second later, followed by several beings. However, the cell force field came up just before they were able to enter, cutting them off as they rammed into it, evaporating nearly instantly. Sadhal dropped the Human at the end of the cell, and then turned around to face the containment field. The Demon was already facing it, pointing his weapons at it, just in case any came through.

And then the flickering outside intensified…and the force field went off.

Much to both parties annoyance, both Sadhal and the Demon cursed at the same time. It had been a good plan, but now they were stuck here with virtually no means of defense.

Then it flickered back on again. And then off. And then on again. This time, however, it stayed on for the most part. Both parties kept their weapons at bay and waited. The Vortices stopped spawning outside the force field and the high-pitched scream disappeared, leaving only the loud howl of the storm outside.

The flickering of the lights stopped, and they came on at full strength. They could now see the amount of damage they had done to the room. The walls and ceilings near the door were almost completely covered in burn marks from the plasma, and some sections of the outer wall had melted away exposing the electronics behind.

The smell of burnt metal was ripe in the air, approaching choking levels. From the looks of it, they would not be able to stay here much longer.

"Do you think she's gone?" Sadhal asked, not taking his eyes off the force field.

"Perhaps." The Demon replied, but nonetheless, he didn't lower his weapon.

"What were those?"

"Unsure. Shields can stop one or two, armor is useless." The Demon only shook his head.

He continued, stopping to take a breath.

"Will the force field stop her?"

Sadhal nodded, he lowered his weapon a bit, but kept it ready, just in case. The Demon followed suit, but neither took their eyes off the force field.

"She tried to attack me in the other cell block, but the force field apparently stopped her. It seemed to have caused her pain, which drove her away."

The lights outside flickered again and the entire ship shook slightly. From outside, they could hear the rumble of thunder from the storm outside. Both men raised their weapons again, ready for anything.

"You were a prisoner?" the Demon asked, not missing a beat.

Sadhal paused, unsure what exactly to say to the Demon. Instinct compelled him not to give out information to this human; as was protocol.

But these circumstances were far from protocol, and after how the prophets had betrayed them….He shook his head and replied, sadly.

"I was on the ship's engineering section when the Brutes came to take over. The Prophet ordered me to be imprisoned for the time being."

"Where would the Prophet be?" The Demon asked.

"Assuming Alma hasn't killed her, the bridge.." Sadhal looked at the Demon suspiciously.

"Why do you ask?"

"I have to finish my mission." The Demon replied, simply.

"And what would that be?"

"To kill him before he activates Halo."

Sadhal stepped back a bit at this.

"Activate the sacred rings? From here? How is that even possible?"

The lights flickered once more outside the cell, drawing their attention.

The Demon simply glanced back at him before replying.

"Not from here. The Ark. If he activates the ring, everyone dies."

Sadhal frowned at this. How could that be possible? From the beginning of the Covenant, the holy text had guided them and the prophets, driving them on with the promise of the great journey. How could that all be a lie? He simply could not believe it!

"But the great journey – " Sadhal started, only to be cut off by the Demon as he spoke.

"- Is a lie. The Forerunners used it to destroy all source of food for the flood, inclusive of all sentient life. Activate it, and everyone in the galaxy dies."

Sadhal simply stared at the Demon, who didn't look back. How could that be true? The texts? The prophets? Had they been lied to for centuries?

"But the prophets…the texts..." Sadhal muttered, unsure what to say.

"The Prophets have betrayed you. A Civil war is raging on high charity now between the Brutes and the Elites."

A Civil war? Sadhal thought, attempting to grasp the entire thing. The Council would never order a civil war, especially not against the Covenant….at least, not unless…could the Council have been murdered?

The thought came by so fast, Sadhal nearly staggered at it's implications, and of how deep this treachery really went.

"Those traitors…" he muttered to himself. The prophets would pay.

Suddenly, the lights shut down, plunging them into darkness and shutting down the force field. Both of them visibly tensed, raising their weapons and getting ready for anything. The Demon turned on a flashlight built into the helmet, lighting up the area ahead of them. Sadhal could make out the edge of a vortex to the side, but then it immediately vanished. One of the humanoid beings appeared and turned the corner, but immediately evaporated as both fired their weapons at it.

"Later. We have other concerns now." The Demon interrupted him. Sadhal only nodded. This was not good.

A full three seconds later, the lights came back on, along with the force field. Other than that one, no other of the beings appeared. Sadhal breathed a sigh of relief.

"Who is this Alma? What is she?" He asked again, not taking his eyes off the force field.

The Demon shrugged, only nodding his head to the person behind them. "He knows. It's about time we asked him about it, though."

Sadhal nodded.

Much to the annoyance of both men again, they turned in unison to face the unknown human. The first thing they noticed, however, was not the way the human was simply starting at them, his expression indiscernible through the gas mask. Neither was it the way he was limply seated, leaning back against the wall, both arms flayed to the side and limp.

They first thing they saw was none of that. The first thing they saw was the little girl that was standing behind them; dressed in a short white skirt which had several red smudges on it.

And then, the lights flickered again, and went dark.

******

A bright flash and loud explosion broke the silence and the darkness, lighting up the cell for a brief second, illuminating the human that had sat there. It came from the pistol in his hand, and in the small cell, it forced the noise filters to come on inside John's helmet.

Time slowed down for John as he saw the girl slowly evaporate again into thin air, her ashes falling to the ground, much like petals in the wind, and then disappearing before they touched it.

Then he saw the bullet fly through where she had been standing. It flew through the air, and continued on its course, uninterrupted. John followed it as it streaked by, and then ricocheted out towards the exit.

And then the lights came back on, along with the force field. He watched as it bounced off the field, coming back at an exact one-eighty degree angle. John could only watch and couldn't move in time to stop it. The entire thing – the bullet's speed, the reaction time – all of it, it just felt wrong in so many ways it was nerve-wracking.

And then there was the pain. The pain in his stomach, chest and back was so intense; John was amazed he was still alive, much less standing. He had already checked the vital signs and medical reports on the HUD, but pushed it aside. It was good luck, and now he had to use it.

The bullet moved back in the same path it had come, all the way back to the soldier that was laying there. Time then sped back up to normal speed, as if the encounter was over.

The bullet hit the soldier in his arm, right above the shoulder, forcing out a cry of pain as it did. The armor in the area had been tattered, badly damaged and did absolutely nothing to stop the bullet from penetrating through.

Reacting quickly, John moved towards the soldier, nodding at the Elite to cover him while he did so. He didn't say anything, but rather went down on one knee, ignoring as best as he could the burst of pain that erupted throughout his lower back.

Examining the bullet wound, the Master Chief immediately went to work. He removed the armor around the area, and then tore off some of the soldier's uniform and then tied the piece around the wound, using it as a tourniquet to cut off the blood flow. But it didn't work. The blood continued to flow out of the wound, snaking around the soldier's arms and pooling up on the floor and smearing his armor. For his part, the soldier was either unconscious, or held the pain as he didn't respond at all.

"How is he?" The Elite asked from behind him.

Looking at the wound, John attempted to see where the bullet had gone. He saw it had managed to penetrate significantly, hitting an artery. At this rate of bleeding, the soldier would be dead within minutes.

It began to subside slightly a second later, however, as the tourniquet began to have some effect.

"Not good."

John glanced at the Soldier. He still couldn't be sure if the soldier was conscious or not. In either case, he had to be in great pain right now. Unfortunately, it was only going to get worse.

"Brace yourself." He said to the soldier before looking back at the wound itself.

Making it as quick as possible, John put his fingers in and then pulled out the bullet.

Surprisingly, the soldier didn't react at all. Either he was unconscious completely, or he was dead. John seriously hoped for the former. At least then they had a chance of reviving him.

Holding the bullet in one hand, he examined it. The caliber was far, far different than any UNSC bullet in use. Glancing at the pistol, he realized that the pistol wasn't anything they used as well. It seemed old, too old. For the second time, John pondered for a second: where had this soldier come from?

Then the second thought crept into his mind…the aircraft they had come on. Could it be possible the question was not where…but when?

Pushing the thought aside for now, John noticed that the blood flow was cutting out. He quickly tore off some more pieces of cloth from the uniform, and then tied it around the wound. Hopefully, he should survive this engagement. But it was doubtful, to say the least. They needed a proper med bay or medical facilities and a doctor to make sure.

"Don't bother too much tying it…" The soldier spoke up, softly. John looked at him in surprise. Had he really been conscious? How was that even possible?

Still, he didn't question it. Rather, he turned around to the Elite that was standing guard.

"How far is the nearest medical facility from here?" John asked.

The Elite didn't turn back as he replied.

"Two decks down, and across the ship. We can make it there within a few minutes if we skip the lifts and use the ladders."

John nodded and looked back at the soldier. The soldier didn't look back however, instead staring only at the Elite.

"Who….are you? What is he?" he asked, gasping for breath.

Those two questions simply confirmed John's earlier thoughts. However, the possibilities that came with it disturbed him greatly. If it was true, then it meant that the UNSC was in far, far greater trouble than previously expected.

"I should be asking you the same question." John paused, and then continued. "What was the date last time you checked?"

The soldier simply looked up at him blankly. His breathing heavy, he didn't say anything for a few seconds. Finally, though, he asked, more than replied.

"Time travel?"

It was simple and yet, told so much more. Then he simply shook his head.

"Doesn't matter…I don't have long. Alma….she must be responsible for this."

Again, Alma. John interrupted him before he could go on.

"Hold on. Start from the beginning."

The soldier simply nodded and spoke.

"I am part of a special operations team working for the United States Army, twenty-first century, assuming the time-frame to here is correct. The unit was called First Encounter Assault Recon – FEAR for short. We were sent to apprehend a suspect and neutralize an army of cloned soldiers. Unfortunately, the suspect's main intention was to find and release Alma."

The soldier paused…as if unsure what to say next.

"Alma….she was a very powerful psychic. A corporation headed by her father used her in an attempt to create a psychic commander. She was taken to a vault, where she was inseminated with an embryo, which was then allowed to gestate long enough to develop and acquire her latent powers. After the second prototype was created, they shut down the project and sealed the vault."

"What happened to Alma?" John asked. This story was fine and good, but they needed to get to the point.

The soldier looked away.

"She was locked in the vault when the life support was shut down…..the records said she died eight days later."

John stood up and took a step back in shock, suddenly realizing the full extent of what had happened, and of what was happening now. If Alma had died….how had she come here? How was she capable of such things?

The Soldier continued on, however, not giving him a chance to speak.

"When the vault was opened up again several years later, a synchronicity event occurred, and she somehow managed to gain control of the second prototype before they locked it again. The suspect then headed back to her, in an attempt to open up the vault. But in the end, her father opened it…she was going to escape, but the Vault was destroyed. I managed to escape the vault onboard a helicopter…and then…she appeared, and this freak storm hit us. A second later, before she could kill anyone, we hit something….I think you know the story after that."

The soldier looked back at John.

"She's died so long ago…but the rage…the anger, the horror…of what happened…she cant forget it…she wont...and now she wants to kill everyone for it. Theirs no way we can stop her…"

John didn't reply, but when the Soldier did not go on, he spoke up.

"You said the second prototype 'synchronized' with her…what about the first? Could he or she help us?"

The soldier didn't reply, and instead looked away.

Suspicion began to creep up in John's mind. This soldier wasn't telling him something. Rather than waste time, he asked him straight to his face.

"It's you…isn't it?"

The soldier didn't look back, but instead replied.

"What's the first thing you remember? Is it your childhood…or the words being said as you were born…"

His tone was low, soft and filled with sadness.

"The first thing I remember…were the words uttered by Alma's father. 'You will be a God amongst men.'…and her screams, as she asked for her baby back…and after that….nothing."

He finally looked back at John. And although the mask covered his face, John could feel the sadness behind those eyes, and in the tone as he spoke.

"I cannot remember my life….my journey…even though I know it was there…her thoughts…her tragedy…I can feel her mind…I can feel as she asks, as she struggles to feel mine. But she can't…she never will…."

John just shook his head. This changed everything. With this soldier, they might have a chance against Alma…but they needed to get him to help fast.

The lights began to flicker once again, and glancing back, John saw that the force field was flickering as well. He saw the Elite had been listening in as well. But he had said nothing as of yet.

"We should get moving." The Elite spoke, nodding towards the force field. John nodded back and turned to the soldier.

"My back's gone – I can't walk. You must leave me." The solder spoke, cocking the pistol and then pushing himself up with the good arm.

John shook his head.

"No – we'll need you to help again –"

"You don't get it, do you?" the soldier interrupted him, mid-sentence.

"She's coming…she's coming for me. I can feel her…if I go with you, she will follow, and then you will all die. Everyone will die."

He swallowed, wheezing a bit. John just looked at him, unsure what to ask. Finally, he spoke after a few minutes.

"How do we stop her?"

The soldier sadly shook his head.

"We can't stop her…."

He paused, looking outside the cell door. Then he looked to the left, in the direction of the helicopter, and the storm outside.

"….but it can."

"And what, human, is it?" The Elite asked from behind John, obviously as curious as him about the entire affair.

"I don't know…but I can feel it…it's here…and it wants what was denied to it…it wants her…" the soldier replied. He was about to go on when the lights began to flicker again and then went out completely, taking the force field with them.

The soldier's voice became nervous as he continued.

"She's coming back…leave…leave now, before it's too late. I'll keep her occupied long enough for you to go…"

John slowly nodded, and took a painful step back. Every fiber of his being wanted to save the soldier, but the soldier was right, and there was little that could be done of the situation. The soldier had been right in the fact that he would have slowed them down significantly. And then there was the mission, which still needed to be completed.

"Good luck." John replied softly. The Soldier nodded and gave a short salute.

The Elite did not say anything, instead, he cautiously moved towards the entrance of the cell. The plasma rifle raised, he peeked around the corner and then turned back to John, nodding to indicate it was safe. The Elite then turned to the soldier, and spoke.

"You are very brave to face her alone, human. A sign of a worthy warrior, indeed."

The soldier didn't reply, but again, simply nodded.

With that, John picked up the Plasma rifles from the ground and got up. He nodded to the Elite.

"We need a way off this ship."

The Elite nodded. "There should be a fighter still available in the fighter bay. But we cannot open the exit it from the bay itself. We need to get to the bridge. Follow me."

The Elite turned and ran out towards the exit. John glanced one last time at the Soldier and then followed suit.

******

He watched them run off, leaving him alone.

The lights flickered on and off again. But it did not matter, he would wait. She would come for him, and end this.
He wondered, for a second, what the storm was. Watching as the lightning from the storm light up the block outside the cell door, he realized that he could feel it. It was at a corner of his mind, almost invisible...but he could feel the tiny impression it left. It was just sitting there….watching...waiting…..

And then the lights came back on, bringing up the force field, and the presence was gone, as swiftly as it had come. He closed his eyes, unsure what to do. He couldn't move, and he could hardly fight. The truth about Alma, about his past…the thoughts, the shock was still reeling through his mind.

Alma… he thought to himself….

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the lights had gone out along with the force field again.

Again, he felt a presence in his mind. But this one….this one seemed different. It didn't feel like Alma's. This one…it somehow seemed stronger… than Alma's – if that was even possible. It tried to wander through his mind, reach into his thoughts, but then, for some reason, it pulled back and disappeared.

But what was it? Could it have been Alma? If it was, she must have grown stronger. But how?

Then he heard it.

It wasn't much at first – just a low scratching noise, coming from just outside the door. Quickly raising his pistol, he brought it to bear at the entrance, prepared for anything. The scratching noise grew louder, as if something was shuffling about.

A flash of lightning light up the cell block again from the outside. With all the lights off, it temporarily blinded him, causing him to blink. When he opened his eyes, however, he saw it, standing in the entrance, silhouetted against the background of the block.

He had never seen anything like it. It was an organic creature of sorts – small, and around the size of a football. A dull beige color, it seemed to somehow hover over the ground, supporting itself on small, tiny green tentacles, much like a jelly fish. Indeed, the entire primary structure gave it the appearance of a Portuguese man of war.

It just stood there for a second, before it slowly started to move toward him.

And then it exploded as he fired at it with the pistol. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked down, reloading the pistol and throwing the empty clip to the side.

There was another shuffling noise, attracting his attention again. When he looked up there were two more of the things at the entrance of the cell, and were rapidly moving towards him.

"What the…" he said, before raising the pistol and firing again, taking out both in quick succession. They exploded, spraying droplets of green stuff all over the entrance of the cell.

And then the shuffling sound came again - but this time it was louder. Another of the creatures appeared near the entrance and made a quick dash for him, covering the distance in insane speed.

But he was faster, and the creature exploded not two meters away from him.

More began to appear near the entrance – this time an entire group of them. Not pausing, he shot at the lead one, which exploded, which caused two of the ones next to it to explode as well. But the rest kept coming, keeping up the suicidal charge at him.

He didn't stop firing, trying his best to take out as many of them as possible. As the bullet hit, each kept exploding, deafening him to an extent. The entire group seem to be getting closer – yet, fortunately, smaller.

They reached barely a meter away when the last one tried to leap at him – only to be destroyed in mid air. Looking at the entrance and breathing heavily, he kept the pistol at the ready, in case more showed up.

And they did….or rather, one did.

It stood at the entrance, in a pool of it's companions' blood. It just stood there for a second, as if considering where to go. Then, it started to rapidly move towards him. He aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger.

Click

Looking at the pistol he cursed. What a time to run out of ammunition. There was just one of the things – he bet he could've just punched it to death, for heaven's sake.

Tossing the pistol in the air, he caught it by the barrel and then carefully took aim, waiting for the creature to leap at him.

It closed the gap rapidly, and then when it hit the final meter, he leapt up towards him. Using the moment, he threw the pistol, end over end straight at the creature.

And then he was horrified, as it simply grazed past and went flying through the air and out the cell block.

The thing continued unfazed…and landed right on his leg.

It bit into the leg, but he couldn't feel it, and instead saw it grab and dig into the leg. He tried moving the other, but paralyzed as he was, he couldn't even reach down and hit the damn thing as it was out of arm's reach.

Then a sharp, searing pain made its way up his back, forcing him to scream out in pain as he felt the same presence he had felt earlier creep into his mind, this time stronger than before. The presence had a voice, this time, however, and it spoke to him, its voice reverberating through his mind far, far louder than the screams did.

Your mind is filled with memories…stories of unimaginable horror and pain;
For you have witnessed the fate of things, from beyond the grave;
…….She haunts your mind and thoughts…..using them as a tool to let loose her hate;
But little does she know…..that we are all but mere tools and toys of fate;

You shall become my vassal…the instrument upon which fate plays its hand;
For the storm has come to claim what it was denied…to complete its great errand;
The fate of many…will soon be torn apart and cast asunder;
But together….we shall stop this storm's great thunder…..


**********

"Bumbling idiots, the lot of you! Can't you get anything right?!" Prophet Truth exclaimed, as he looked at the Brutes near the control panel.

He was seated in the anti-gravity throne, right in the middle of the bridge, and things were now falling apart around him. The bridge itself was large, around 10 meters wide, and 8 long. Mostly circular, it had a dome-like structure on the top, with a bright white light at its very centre. The bridge itself was split into several sections. The outer ring as such, was the lowest, with two entrances into the bridge on one side, and a massive screen on the other. The floor was soft, and a dark blue. All around the ring here, guards were posted, and several square doors on either side led to the neighboring rooms. The consoles between the doors glowed bright blue in color.

In the middle of this was another ring, which was around two feet higher than the outer one, with some steps leading into it. It was red in color, with several consoles lining it. These glowed red as well, matching the floor quite easily. There were three steps leading up – one on either side, with exception of the screen. This ring was lined by a railing in the gaps between the consoles and stairs.

But in the middle of the entire room, another two feet above the inner ring was the centre most one. It rose towered up above the rest of the bridge, allowing for a full view of all the proceedings. It was here that the Prophet hovered alone in his chair. There were only two steps to his left and right that led up to the platform, while the rest of it was surrounded by a railing. Their once might have been a chair here, but it had since been removed, only to be replaced by a single, circular control panel.
Right now, however, he was more focused on the activity at one of the consoles near the exits, where a group of Brutes had gathered and stood at attention facing him. One of the Brutes, in particular, had a red flag attached to the harness and headdress he wore. This was their squad commander, head of the guard detail that had replaced the Elite's.

"Where are the guards that were sent to engineering? They should have reported back by now! I demand an answer now, Chieftain, or I shall have your head for this!"

For his part, the Chieftain only bowed and replied quickly.

"Not one of them has reported back, holy prophet. The storm is interfering with all the systems and communications are down since we were hit. Their may be an intruder on board that is capable of nullifying our troops, probably the Demon."

The Prophet didn't say a thing, and instead turned around and looked at the screen again. The storm raged on it, constantly turning and shifting every second. How it had managed to keep up with them so far had been up to question. It had been questionable – were they even moving? Unfortunately, that answer seemed to elude them as almost every sensor system had gone out once they had entered the storm.

This damning storm! It raged and churned and boiled, threatening to destroy anything in it's path – and yet it seemed like they were not the only ones in it. Something had hit them earlier, taking out all the internal sensors, leaving them essentially completely blind, deaf and dumb. Worse still were the power outages that kept hitting the bridge. At least they had backup power available, allowing them to compensate when the power went out.

And now there was the possibility of the Demon on board. This did not bode well for the great journey, not at all. He had to get to the Ark, and find out the truth of all this. But the Demon…he only wished to destroy it. He had killed his bumbling brother, Regret, after the latter had invaded the Demon's home planet and then gone to the ring.

And now, oddly, Truth was in the same situation. If the Demon was on board, however, it would mean significant trouble.

"Is the force field around the bridge section still online?" He asked, not turning back.

"Yes, yes it is." The commander replied.

"Excellent. Gather all the soldiers you have on this deck, and prepare to take a hunting party down – find the Intruder and kill him. Leave half a squad of guards behind to protect this place."

The commander nodded and then kneeled before him.

"I will not fail you, holy one." He then got up and turned around, heading for the exit.
The Prophet called after him, interrupting their march out.

"Do not return to me without the intruder's head, or else I shall make sure to have yours."

The Commander simply nodded and left.

Truth merely looked back at the screen again, and the storm. This was getting incredibly frustrating, to say the least.

He looked down at his console, at the information he had uncovered. The location of the Ark had been found from the Oracle only by his brother, Mercy. The fact, however, that it was on Earth troubled him, and troubled him deeply.

Why had the forerunners left the Ark on such a planet? The way the oracle was reported to have spoken to the humans, addressing them as the 'Reclaimers'. It worried him deeply. Such a discovery alone was enough to shake the foundation of the Covenant, should the elites have ever found out. So far, the Covenant had gone on in the hope and belief that they were indeed the chosen ones by the gods, the one who would go on the Great journey to salvation, just as the Forerunners did.

But what was the Humans' role in all of this? The Forerunners apparently knew the humans before they had left, and should the Oracle be believed, they were meant to reclaim the technology. But the Covenant had had the right to do so, and indeed, had done it first.

Questions continued to plague his mind as he searched for the Truth. The answers would most likely lie within the Ark itself. But according to the records they had found, the Ark had been buried in the planet by the Forerunners. They had gotten the co-ordinates by the Forerunners, so getting there had been no problem till they encountered the storm.

Now, they appeared to be stuck, their position unknown and their velocity doubtful, at best.

Truth looked at the information again, this time bringing up the information gathered from the human's computers. He had checked the location with the data, cross-referencing with the location of cities on the planet.

Apparently, the humans had built some sort of massive structure over where the Ark was supposed to be, and earlier sensor readings had shown massive radiation readings from it all over the spectrum. No human lived their, for it had been a place of disaster, according to their history, not once, but twice, and both times it had been incredibly tragic.

Could this have been fate at play? A mere co-incidence, perchance? Or had it been something far more sinister? In either case, the location made the prophet uncomfortable as he went through the reports and pictures of humans dying of radiation poisoning, and of the devastation of buildings in the area around the incident. It had become a graveyard twice, betraying it's people each time. Everyone that had come there had died in some way or the other…and now, they were headed there as well.

The humans called it Chernobyl; a place of disaster, bad luck, and nothing but death, where the silence that permeated the air was so powerful, it could kill by itself.

And it was here, that the key to their salvation was held…

or is it the key to our doom? the prophet thought to himself.

In either case, they would soon discover the truth, regardless of what happened.

*******

John ran down the corridor after the Elite, ignoring the pain that erupted throughout his body. He had been through worse before, and the mission still needed to be completed.

It still mystified him, how such a small girl could do so much damage. What horrors had she actually gone through, that had led to such an outcome? It worried him, what she was capable of. He classified it as a new threat, one that needed to be eliminated before he left the ship. If Alma got off, there was no telling what damage she was capable of doing to Earth. The soldier had mentioned earlier, that there was something here...or someone, that was capable of stopping her. He had to find it.

Ahead of him, the elite turned into the corridor where John had killed the Jackals earlier. Turning into the corridor after him, John nearly ran into the Elite as he stood there.

Looking around him, John raised his rifle, ready to for anything. Looking back to make sure Alma wasn't there, he asked.

"What's wrong?"

The Elite nodded at the corridor in front.

"The Bodies. Their gone."

Looking past him, John realized the Elite was right. The bodies were no longer there. Only the weapons and shields lay where John had left them.

"Alma must have destroyed them" John remarked, but then realized something.

"If she did....then where is the blood?" The Elite replied, indicating the lack of blood anywhere near where the bodies had lain. Instead, the Elite raised his hand and sniffed the air, frowning. John himself couldn't smell a thing – the helmet was on environmental support; filtering all the air that came in.

"That stench. It cannot be natural."

The Elite walked forwards cautiously, the Master Chief followed, turning around to keep a sharp eye on their back.

He glanced out the window at the storm raging outside. This storm...where had it come from? What was it? It had hit the soldier, bringing not only him, but Alma here as well. It had to be here for some reason, some purpose.

Then he heard something behind him. It wasn't more than a scratching noise, but to John, it was more than enough for him to whirl around and bring both guns to bear. But when he looked, there was nothing. Cautiously, he turned back around to face the Elite and the corridor. Suddenly, the HUD displays in his helmet flickered, and went dead.

Alma...he thought to himself. He accelerated the turn to look for the elite and warn him.

......only to find it gone.

He backpedaled, raising the rifles. There was a corridor in front of him, no doubt, but it wasn't the one that he had seen a second ago.

This was one plain and long. The floor was tiled in white marble, while the walls were plain white and made of concrete, as opposed to the alien metal he had seen just now. The sterilized smell of hospital floors hit his nostrils, despite the air filters. Looking around, he noticed that the walls had blood spattered all over them.

But what actually scared him the most, was what was at the end of it. At the end of the corridor, several meters ahead of him, was an object he hadn't seen since the days of his training.

The last time he had seen it was after the augmentation phase of the Spartan II program. Of the 75 members that had gone through it, 30 had died. During the funeral, he had seen some of the 12 of the surviving members (some of them in wheelchairs) in these vats being pulled away.

The thing was large and cylindrical. It was filled almost completely with a green liquid that emitted an eerie glow onto the corridor around it.

He took a step back. This couldn't be happening. Not here, not now.

John....

That single word, that single whisper sent chills down his spine, and brought to his mind a fear that he had felt only a few times before. He didn't hear it, so much as he felt it reverberate through his bones, through his very soul.

In shock, in horror, he stepped back. Unsure what to do, he raised his rifle and opened fire, closing his eyes and just blindly firing, screaming out at it almost uncontrollably. It only gave a laugh as it disappeared, fading away into nothingness.

And then something changed. He opened his eyes.

He was back in the corridor, just behind the Elite, looking at the corridor behind him.

Alma...it had to be Alma. She must be doing this to him. John could not help but feel a bit of fear in this scenario. He was almost helpless against Alma – she overrode all physical defenses he had, and everything they had thrown at her. To top it off, she was now playing with his mind.

Then John brought himself under control. He reigned in the thoughts, and remembered why he was here. He couldn't afford to loose control here. It would mean failing the mission, and all those that had died till now. It was something he couldn't afford. No matter what Alma did, he couldn't let himself loose control like that.

But then...that vat...what it represented to him brought only chills down his spines. Pushing away the thoughts however, he tried to focus on what the Elite was saying.

"Are you all right – you didn't respond." the Elite turned and asked him. John simply nodded.

"Alma is getting more aggressive. She just pulled some form of illusion on my mind. We need to get off this ship."

The Elite nodded, turned around and began to run. Glancing back, John began to follow.

As they ran past the windows, the storm boiled and raged outside. If one were to look carefully enough, they would find the patterns extremely interesting. For this was no ordinary storm, that much was for sure.

If one were to look carefully near the window area, they would find these patterns merging and re-enforcing each other in one particular area just outside of it. Each part, each wave of the pattern was chaotic, random, yet seemingly fitting. If one were to go up the scale, and actually looked at the patterns as they came together, they would very easily be able to make out a face in the clouds. A face that moved as it followed the two individuals move past the window slowly and cautiously.

Then, as they went past it and out of sight, the face smiled.


*********

In the cell block that they had left, the cell where they had left the soldier was now empty. The only trace of his existence was the pool of blood that was present where he had lain wounded, mere minutes before.

Indeed, there was no life left inside the block, with the only sounds coming from the howling wind outside, and the constant hum of the lights and other systems as they did their best to work around the damage.

Outside the force field that kept the outer atmosphere at bay, the storm raged and churned. The wind beat against the force field with all its might, battering it relentlessly in an attempt to get in. An odd phenomenon, considering that the pressure outside would mean that air would attempt to get out according to logic, and physics.

Yet, it blatantly disobeyed the laws of physics, and battered even harder. The lights flickered on and off again and the ship shook slightly as lightning battered the ship all over.

Looking through the force fields, one could see the lightning as it flashed by once, and then again, and then again. At first, there was one flash as lightning struck past the window, at an unknown target. And then another as it struck back in the opposite direction. The frequency started to increase. From 1 every few seconds, to one every two seconds, to one a second. The roar of the thunder increased as the strikes grew; each one rolling into the other to form a continuous roar that deafened the years. The frequency grew to such proportions that no human mind could count the number of strikes per second.

And then the lights began to flicker again before coming on. Then they flickered again, for several seconds, before finally dying out completely. However, there was no darkness, as the entire block was lit up by the lightning that was present outside.

The roar began to grow in intensity, getting loud enough to shatter the few glass panels that were inside the block. Any living being inside would have had their ears ruptured by the sheer intensity, and elsewhere on the ship, anyone on the same deck would have been able to hear it as a loud explosion.

Then, in what seemed as a final act of release, of climax, a lightning bolt reached out from the cloud, touching and then going through the force field with ease. It bypassed it almost completely, and struck the central column square in the centre.

The power of the explosion set the remains of the helicopter ablaze, as well as driving the center of the column outwards, collapsing it and bringing down a fair part of the ceiling with it.

The collapsed remains soon caught fire, sending the entire cell block ablaze. Sirens blared out from everywhere, and the automatic sprinklers came online where they were still intact. However, they were too few and too little to do any difference for this scenario.

The flames intensified further as the wind now fueled them onwards. They roared to life, growing in size and heat as they consumed the helicopter and surrounding material. The howl of the wind permeated through the entire deck, as it blasted through the remains of the door and out into the corridors beyond. In the corridor where the master chief and the elite had just passed, the wind blew away at the remains of the shield and pistols that the jackals had left there, picking them up with a powerful surge and then throwing them against the walls.

In the cell block itself, near the gaping hole that was now no longer protected by the force field, something stirred. The flames licked at it, driven back only by the pressure of the wind as it surged forwards. If one were to walk to the very edge of the hole, and indeed, peeked over, they would see only the storm raging below them. The same would be true if they looked up, past the ship's rear.

And then, beyond it itself, the storm suddenly calmed. The cloud's churning began to slow, and the raging began to subside. The edges of the cloud grew thicker as it entered the ship, the cloud mixing in with the smoke from the fire to produce a thick layer of smog around the entrance, and in that section of the cell block itself.

As one looked on, however, they could make out the outline of something that was moving in the fog. The outline soon solidified into a humanoid shape. As it moved forwards, the fires began to grow in intensity, the top of the flames now reaching half-way to the ceiling, almost. The figure's outline and features began to blur again through the cloud of smog and fire as it walked calmly through, ignoring the heat and chaos around it.

It walked through the flames itself, unaffected by them completely. The first thing one would be able to notice as it finally exited the smog in the middle of the room would have been the black boots, as well as the torn and shredded military-grade trousers that the person wore. As the figure emerged from the fog, one could clearly make out that it was male. Wearing a red shirt and a black jacket over it, the man looked ahead at the door way. He stopped for a moment as the lights came on around him, and then flickered and died once more.

Paxton Fettel's expressions grew into that of a rather evil smile.

Alma...... he whispered, to nobody in particular. His voice was soft, low and had an icy tone in it. He then took a step forward and his entire body disappeared into ashes as he began to walk forwards.

******

They approached a set of doors, having run through various corridors for a few minutes now. Sadhal stopped just in front of them. They didn't open. He moved to the panel to the side and mentally cursed.

"The Intruder alert is in place. The lift won't move without authorization from the bridge."

Sadhal said to the Demon, deciding what exactly to do next.

He then placed his hands in the seam of the door, grunting as he pulled it. Within a second the Demon's hands were also in the seam, and pulling the other side. It slowly rolled open, revealing a dark and dim shaft beyond.

The shaft was empty, for the most part. Looking down, Sadhal saw only darkness in the decks below. Alma must have shorted out the lights on those decks. Looking up, he again saw only darkness. It appeared the entire system was down for the most part. Still, he kept a sharp ear out for the elevator in case it appeared. There was no telling what could happen, judging from what Alma Wade was capable of.

He took a careful step to the edge, and looked to the side. Several rungs were built into a small niche on the side of the elevator shaft. Moving along the edge, he reached out and grabbed one. Glancing back, he spoke to the Demon.

"There is a set of rungs to the side. We will have to climb up several decks." The demon only nodded in reply and followed him.

Grabbing the rung, he pulled with all his strength and hoisted himself onto it, swinging out from the side of the elevator. He climbed up slowly, looking up. The higher decks were also shrouded with darkness, the only light coming from the deck they were on now. Fortunately, they wouldn't need to grope in the dark from the shaft, as the internal open controls overrode the intruder lockouts most of the time.

Climbing up, he glanced down as the Demon did the same as him, although with greater difficulty. But he managed and soon was right behind Sadhal.

Such perseverance had to be admired, and Sadhal couldn't help but imagine the Demon making a fine elite, or commander for that matter. In either case, he looked up and continued to climb.

A minute later, Sadhal had made it up to a platform next to the doorway. It was a small niche that allowed for repair of the lift systems, which were located towards that side. It was simply a narrow corridor that wrapped around a pillar and circled around to another set of rungs that led further up.

Sadhal stepped onto the platform, and turned around. The Demon was right behind him and was approaching the platform as well. Sadhal went down on one knee, reaching down to help the Demon up.

That was when a massive roar ripped through the deck they had just left, sending a shockwave through the lift door and then through the shaft. The entire ship rocked, as if hit by something massive, and was soon followed by a loud explosion.

The floor underneath jerked and Sadhal immediately lost his balance, tipping forwards over the edge. He fought with gravity, hanging there for a second and trying his best to lean back. He nearly caught his balance back and was about to pull himself onto the ledge, when something pushed him, however.

He didn't know exactly what it was, or where it came from, but whatever the force was, it was just enough to tip the balance over to gravity, causing him to fall off.

Reaching out for the nearby wall to balance himself was useless, as his body tilted over the edge and gave in, falling off. Sadhal flailed his arms out, hoping to catch the rung of the ladder as he cried out in surprise. As he fell by, within the blink of an eye, the Demon's arm struck out, and caught his hand just as he fell by.

The Demon grunted as he picked up the weight of the heavy elite, and for a second, it looked like the Demon would not be able to hold him. But the grip stayed firm as Sadhal looked down at the inky blackness below. He hung there for a second, and then started to reach for the rungs.

That was when he heard the cracking.

Glancing up, he noticed that the Demon wasn't paying much attention to him, but was instead staring at the wall in front of him. Sadhal looked at what he was staring at, and in turn, simply stared in disbelief.

The wall where the ladder rungs were began to crack, slowly. From the cracks closest to the platform Sadhal had just been on, a red substance began to trickle out. Judging from the color, it seemed to be human blood. The blood continued to spill, moving impossibly fast through the many cracks and crevices inside the wall.

Then, just above the Demon's head, it once again defied physics. The blood trickled sideways, up and then down again, following a series of seams that suddenly formed inside the wall from nowhere. Both of them watched as the curves soon began to form and take shape in that of a number – a human number. 084.

"Fhajad…" the Demon whispered, in shock and awe at the same time.

All this had happened so fast, that neither had time to truly react to the situation. This was especially true when in the next moment; the rung which the Demon was clinging to suddenly creaked, and then gave way along with the entire section of the wall. Sadhal began to fall as the Demon fell backwards along with the rung.

But the Demon's arm immediately let go and reached out for another lower rung, grabbing it. Sadhal lurched to a halt, a death grip on the Demon's hand.

The Demon looked back down to Sadhal. "Hang on!" he said. But as he was doing this, the rung he was holding onto creaked and fell off completely, unable to support the sudden weight placed on it.

He was unable to recover his grip, as gravity took over and he fell off the ladder. And then both plunged into the darkness below.

********

At the platform where Sadhal had just been standing, along the wall, there was no blood, no cracks that had led to the number appearing. Rather, there was a shadow, one cast by an individual now standing on the platform.

The person's face and body was cast into shadow of the small lights that had been behind him, but one would clearly be able to make out where he was looking, and the smile that formed on his lips.

He then looked up the shaft, at the darkness above. He then took a step forwards and once more disappeared into ashes.

*********

The world was filled in pain and blackness. Yet what surprised him more was the fact that he could still feel that pain, and the fact that it was dark. Yet, it pressed on him, invading his soul and forcing him to stay in it. The pain was from nowhere yet at the same time, anywhere. His body did not ache, for simply, he ached in his entirety, starting from his body, to his very soul.

His mind was awash with thoughts, memories of the past. Memories of those he had left behind, and those he could not rescue. The memories...the pain – it was the worst kind of torture he had seen, and yet, it seemed like he was doing it to himself; his own guilt blasting his mind to bits. It was undescribable in every sense, and one that overloaded the Spartan's mind almost completely.

Some of the memories weren't even his – memories of time and space.

And then, it was gone.

As sudden as it had arrived, the pain faded away into nothingness, leaving a peace, a sort of calmness around him.

"He's coming about." A voice spoke out, somewhere to his side. He recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

John tried to moved himself, but his body ached no matter how little he moved. And his eyes...he opened his eyes to a grey ceiling and bright light, and instinctively closed them again.

"Nurses! Get the lights down in here – be prepared in case he lapses back into shock again."

A voice spoke out from somewhere in the distance. It was coming closer, to him, but was not anyone he had seen before. The lights dimmed, however.

"Vitals are normal. His body's taken a massive beating, but he should be all right. Go ahead and talk to him, Sergeant."

John opened his eyes and then looked around, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and neck. He was in a clinic of sorts, with medical equipment surrounding him and displaying all his vital signs.

"Rise and shine, boy. I hope the ride down wasn't too eventful."

The voice spoke out again, and then John recognized not only the tone, but the phrase as well. Looking at the source, his expression didn't change as he saw the smiling face that belonged to Sergeant Johnson.

"Where am I?" John asked, slowly. The last thing he remembered was falling down in a shaft while being on the forerunner ship. Johnson had been on Halo, last he remembered, along with the Commander and the others.

"Relax. You've probably got a lot of questions, suffice to say, you've been out for a long while. They barely were able to extract you from the wreckage, but they made through all right."

"You were on Halo."

John stated, simply looking around the room. There was nobody else here – the doctor must have moved out.

"Were being the operative word. The Elites didn't like the fact that my boots were so far up the Brutes' asses, that they saw it in their mouths every time they went on the battlefield, so they shipped me off back to Earth. Besides, someone's gotta come back to hold your hand."

Johnson smirked, and then attempted to hold him down as John tried to get up.

"Cortona." he asked, giving up and settling in.

Johnson looked away, and then the smirk disappeared.

"No trace. She sent a distress signal, but when we got there and cleared out the flood, she wasn't in High charity's system at all. We can't find a trace of her, even with the help of the Elite that saved you."

John looked at Johnson, unsure what to ask next.

Then a thought rose through his mind, one that alarmed him on all possible levels. This time, he shot out of the bed, nearly breaking Johnson's arms as he moved them aside and got up.

"Alma."

He said, looking at Johnson.

"Where is she?"

"Al-who?" Johnson asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Alma. You said there was an Elite that saved me. Did he tell you anything about Alma?"

Johnson shook his head. No, not at all.

With that, he quickly signaled the doctors and nurses from outside.

"Now, now Chief. You've had a rough time. You really should get some rest. After all, you still have a job to do."

Johnson pushed him harder. This time surprisingly, it was strong enough to push John back into the bed.

Impossible John thought to himself as he tried to struggle. Johnson should not have this much strength – indeed, no unaugmented human could.

"You don't understand. Alma – if she gets here, she'll kill everyone."

John continued to struggle, ignoring the pain that shot through his body.

"Relax chief, you shouldn't worry. Nothing is going to happen."

Johnson replied, pinning him down with more strength than should have been possible. John reached out with one hand and grabbed Johnson's arm, attempting to dislodge it using all of his strength.

To his utter amazement, it remained rock solid. By any right, it would have either moved or snapped. But it did neither.

And then his blood froze as he heard it.

It was the last thing he was expecting...yet, strangely, as the sound reverberated through his body, he should John realized that he should have been expecting it.

The sound was plain, simple yet so incredibly horrifying, that when John looked at the door, and saw Alma standing there, he immediately began to scream and struggle as her laughter – and his screams - reverberated through his soul once more.
**********

He got up screaming, bringing his arms to his face in an attempt to shield himself, only to move what felt like several pieces of debris and rubble out of the way.

John quit screaming as he realized that he had woken up once more – it had been a dream...an illusion.

What has she done to me? John thought to himself, as he brought up his hands to his head. First, Fajhad, and now...now she was placing images in his head? How could he tell whether where he was now was real or fake?

He couldn't exactly tell, either way.

Going over the records in the suit showed that they had fallen approximately 10 meters or so. Although the impact was substantial, he'd fallen further before, and still lived – but that was when he was relatively healthy. The impact had knocked him out cleanly. Judging from the timer, he had been out for nearly ten minutes now.

Fortunately, the suit's auto-repair systems had gotten some of the medical systems online, and he no longer felt the brunt of the pain that came with the impact.

He got up and looked around. The entire area was dark, that much for sure. No lights were operational and Infrared vision was damaged, however. The flashlight came on with just a thought, illuminating the immediate surroundings. He was on one of the Covenant's grav lift. It filled the lift chamber quite easily, and to one side he could see a lift door that was open.

Something had pried both doors open half-way, and consequently shut down the lift here – probably a safety feature. In either case, he could not speculate. Littered across the floor of the lift were several barrels and other large storage modules. Some were broken apart, as if by impact with a heavy object, explaining the amount of debris around him.

A thought of alarm came out, and he looked around quickly, getting up. After a minute, he spotted the Elite buried underneath one of the piles, facing away from him. From the somewhat limp position, he looked either unconscious, or dead.

Getting up, he walked towards the Elite, and kneeled down next to him. His head was covered in some debris that had been knocked over by the impact, but generally John didn't see any obviously broken bones or such. Clearing out the debris, he placed it to the side. Looking back, John reached out with his hand, to turn the Elite over to face him.

When he did so, a flash ran through in front of his eyes, and for a brief millisecond, the figure in front of him changed from an Elite...to someone else's face.

It was Kirk's.

He looked up into John's eyes, and mouthed a single word. One that forced John to reel backwards onto his haunches.

why

He blinked.

Kirk was gone, and the Elite was there.

John shot to his feet and staggered back. What had happened there? What was happening to him? Was Alma doing this to him? How? More importantly, how could he stop it?

"You think she is in your mind, plaguing your thoughts like there is no tomorrow;
Yet it is not her...for what causes you so much pain, is nothing but your own sorrow."

A voice spoke out from behind him. That voice...he remembered it.

Whirling around, he came face to face with the soldier from the brig.

Yet, there was something different here. His voice was completely different from before, and the phrases he had said, and the way he had said it....

John took a step backwards as recognition realized itself within him.

No...this just couldn't be possible. It must be an illusion...it had to be. Nothing else could explain it.

Disbelief soon replaced itself with suspicion as he remembered the bodies that had disappeared in the corridor.

Suspicion gave way to practicality as he looked the soldier over and noticed the flood infection form that had placed itself on the foot.

He looked back at the soldier, and spoke only one word. It was a statement of fact, one of identity, nothing more, and nothing less.

"Gravemind"

********

On the bridge of the ship, Prophet Truth looked at his assistant, his features and expressions contorted into one of anger and rage.

"Where are those bumbling fools?! We sent them out just two minutes ago, and they are yet to report back."

He said, talking to the Brute near the back console next to the door. The Brute simply shook his head.

"Unknown. They are not responding to comms, and their transceivers no longer transmit either. It is as if they vanished completely off the grid."

The prophet's rage increased. How could this be possible? An entire group of Brutes, all at once? Not even the Demon was that powerful to take on so many at one time...or was he?

He was about to reply when the bridge's lights flickered once. Truth looked up at the lights and frowned. First they had the malfunctions on every other deck, and now the bridge? What was going on here?

Then the lights flickered again, before failing completely and going into darkness.

"Damn this cursed storm! I should have just let the Elites stay in command!" Truth shouted out, to nobody in particular. Pressing a button on his panel, a large flashlight switched on from the hover-chair he was sitting on; illuminating the Brute he was talking to.

There was no Brute there, however.

All there was left was a charred skeleton and some blood.

Truth moved backwards in shock, sending the chair backwards and colliding against the railing.

"What in the name of.." he started, and then swung the chair over to look for another.

"Did anyone see - " Truth stopped mid-sentence, as he saw another charred skeleton on the other side of the bridge. Who had done this? How could it have happened so fast?

Then the lights came on, revealing the entire bridge.

Truth looked around as all the brutes that had stood guard were in similar positions. Not one had uttered a sound of alarm, or even been given a chance to draw a weapon. He turned the chair to survey the bridge and the casualties, overcome with shock and fear to react much to it,

And then there was the sound.

It was a giggle, a short laugh. Coming from the main entrance. Truth immediately turned the chair around to face it.

At the entrance, he saw a girl. A human girl, wearing a blood-stained skirt. There was no question about it – she had to be the one responsible for this. But how had she done such a thing?

The question that frightened him most, however, was why she hadn't done it to him yet.

Before he could speak or saw anything, the lights above flashed and exploded suddenly, causing him to blink and cry out in surprise as the entire bridge was plunged into pitch-black darkness. The flashlight was still on, meaning that he could still see in the area ahead of him. But yet, when he looked up at where the girl had been, all he saw were ashes drifting to the ground.

And then the laughter came again, from off to the side.

"Who are you?" He asked, somewhat alarmed and scared as he turned to face her. As the flashlight brought her into view, she just walked into the edge of darkness and disappeared.

Then there was a whisper, it was soft, slow and came from behind him. The sound reverberated not only through his ears, but through his mind and soul itself, sending a shiver down his spine.

"You come here seeking the truth of your existence..."

As he turned to face her, he found that she was looking right at him, her eyes glowing in the darkness.

And then she disappeared once more, leaving only ashes.

Fear ran its course through his mind and body. This girl, this human...how could she do the things she could? It was terrifying, to say the least.

And then, he heard movement from his left. Turning, he saw her right in front, at the staircase leading up to his command section.

She looked at him, and walked up slowly, all the while whispering, slowly.

"...but know that you, like me, shall find no salvation on this ship."

Then the flashlight flickered and went dead, plunging the entire bridge into the darkness and silence, the latter of which was promptly shattered the next seconds by a scream of pain that was loud enough to make it's way out past the corridor, and down through the open elevator shaft.

******

The soldier didn't move forwards, standing perfectly still and facing John. But for his part, John didn't react either, waiting for the soldier – or rather, Gravemind - to reply to his statement.

Gravemind had betrayed both him and the arbiter, using them to get onboard High Charity and taking it over. What was most disturbing, however, was that Gravemind had somehow managed to make his way onboard the Forerunner ship before either him or the prophet – or he managed to get onboard just as it launched, like John had. Such a scenario would explain the large amount of flood John had to fight his way through to the forerunner ship.

However, now John had one more thing to worry about: the soldier himself. Earlier, he had proven to have incredible strength, holding John in place with a vice-like grip when they had first met in the cargo hold. Despite the strength given to him by the armor, John had not been able to shake it off even remotely. According to what had been recorded by his instruments then, the Soldier equaled him or an elite in strength and reflexes even with the armor. The fact that Gravemind now had control over him just made it far, far worse than before.

He could take down a hunter unarmed in this state. John thought to himself, a slight shiver running down his spine as he considered the implications. If he was built to be a God amongst men before…then with the flood's power as well as his own…what is he now?

In less than a second, he had already done the combat evaluation. The soldier was unarmed, he was – John still had a very, very good shot. He was also armored, so the Soldier's strength was nullified as him. But if he truly was Alma's son, then may not matter, considering what Alma had done with a single touch.

It didn't matter though, as John still needed to finish the mission, Gravemind or not. This was only another obstacle to overcome, one that he knew he could win. Spartans always won in the end, and this would be no exception.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity as the soldier – No, Gravemind, John corrected himself – was studying him, he spoke slowly, his voice ringing out similar to a poet of sorts. It was so identical to how he spoke in the cave underneath the forerunner installation that it was downright eerie, even for him.

"I can feel in your mind, the fear you hold of us. Yet you remain determined to stay your decision to end this mad course."

The soldier paused, not moving. John's mind reacted first, taking a step back as suddenly, movement showed up on his tracker, originating from above and all around him. From the darkness of the lift shaft above, in a blur of movement before John could react, several flood combat forms jumped onto the gravity pad, shaking it as they impacted on the floor with a resounding thump.
They fell into a circle around the perimeter of the elevator, numbering around eight and surrounding both him and the still unconscious elite. John didn't react though; he continued to focus his attention on the soldier in front of him. The odds just kept on getting better and better.

The soldier took a step forward to John, as it spoke again.

"This ship was brought into this storm for a reason, for now it seeks two beings upon this ship – two beings that it was denied."

"Alma?" John asked, slowly, unsure what to make of the Gravemind had just said. The combat forms didn't move towards him, but neither did they move away.

"She now rules this ship, feeding upon the souls that rest within its central core. Soon she will grow and the storm will not be able to claim her anymore."

Slowly, the combat forms around them took a few steps forward, closing in. But John never took his eyes off the soldier's form. This had gone on too long, he needed answers, and he needed them here and now.

"The storm…"

The soldier took a sharp breath in and then exhaled. John recognized the sound. It was something akin to laughter – or at least, what the Gravemind could manage with the soldier's body.

"Can you not feel it in your soul, in your mind? It has begun its task, and yet you are so ignorant? It is the most basic force across the cosmos, chasing something that it was denied in many a universe."

"What is it?"

John asked, still puzzled. Gravemind was speaking in clues, riddles as usual. He noticed that the combat forms were moving closer still. He tensed visibly, getting ready to fight his way out. The elite would have to fight his own way out – John had too many adversaries and too little time to finish his mission.

"You don't get it, do you?" Gravemind's voice grew colder and distinctively darker.

"When the rest of our species began to leave so long ago, we few asked it for help; begging it to have mercy. And instead, it cast upon us a curse far worse than any we had imagined."

The soldier took another step forward, and with blinding speed it reached out and grabbed John's arms. The vice-like grip held him steady, not allowing him to move at all. John was about to react when he suddenly felt another presence in his mind. But the suit displays said he hadn't been breached in anyway, so it wasn't Gravemind. Yet, there was someone there – it sat like a pair of eyes in the dark, looking at him – looking through him. It did not react even as John observed it back, trying to discern it's presence.

Gravemind leaned in further, the mask on the soldier's face nearly touching John's faceplate as he spoke again.

"You can feel it. It is there, it watches all of us, all the ones it knows it must claim."

The soldier paused for the briefest of seconds, before continuing.

"But it does not watch over us."

John let his combat training take over as he jumped, using his legs to kick the soldier back and push him away. But the soldier responded impossibly quickly, moving much akin to a blur even by John's standards as he dodged out of the way and then moving behind John. He continued to speak even as he did so.

"It is here for two beings. But we are here for it. We have waited for thousands of years, the seven of us. It claimed our races but left us behind…forever doomed to a fate of loneliness, exile and insanity, all because of what it denied us."

The combat forms attacked, leaping forwards to engage John. He stepped backwards, ramming his elbow in where the Soldier should be – but finding only empty air as Gravemind dodged his blows again. However, his weapons were free this time around as he leapt forwards into the clear space Gravemind had left ahead of him. He did a roll, coming up with both weapons firing as the closest Combat form leapt at him, bringing about its tentacle arm like a whip.

John ducked, but didn't stop pressing the trigger. Blue bolts of plasma spat out at the combat forms, charring and burning flesh and appendages alike. But still, they came, unrelenting despite the insane amount of damage they took. One of the flood forms lost an arm, while the other's legs just melted away to nothingness.

Before the first combat form reached him, John had already done another leap backwards, jumping just out of range as the form whipped at him with the long and spindly appendage. John already had anticipated the two other forms that came from either side of him as he watched them close in equally fast. Holding the plasma rifles in either hands, he held them out to either side, firing at full burst and slowing the combat forms just long enough for him to take another step back. The plasma rifles hissed and then ejected their cartridges from over heating, letting out a small cloud of steam that was hot enough to be felt through the gloves he was wearing.

John was almost out to the exit, however. All he needed to do was just turn around and –

The motion tracker tracked another incoming object as John fought off the other combat forms. It was moving unbelievably fast.

Gravemind was all John could think before a blur came out from behind the combat form and then leapt at him feet-first with enough force to knock him down. Combat forms immediately came up to either side and held him down. John was able to struggle and was about to get loose, however, when the soldier came in front and helped them.

"You still don't understand, do you…if you will not listen, then I shall show you."

Slowly, carefully, Gravemind placed one hand on John's faceplate, not doing anything else.

The presence he had felt in his mind re-appeared – or rather, John began to notice it once more. It had always been there, and as John felt it, he realized that it had always been there. Now that he recognized it, its presence had been there throughout his life, present in nearly all of his memories – but like the tiny part of a picture that you never really noticed unless you knew what you were looking for. It had been watching…waiting.

He had seen it's presence hovering in his illusions, in his hallucinations just mere moments ago, but at that time he hadn't recognized it. But yet, as it looked on to his studying of it, John still couldn't recognize what it was.

"What is it?" John whispered slowly, his mind awash with the shock and horror of this discovery.

The soldier only whispered back slowly, steadily. It was a single word, but one word that brought chills to John's mind, forcing him to reel back from the presence mentally. It was something he had avoided, dodged and generally missed for most of his lifetime, but it was also something he had seen happen to all those around him, to his friends and even his foes. He had brought it about to many a person, and indeed, claimed to have stared it in the face. But it was only now that he realized….he had never stared at it in the face like he had now, for back then, it had never looked back at him the way it did now…as if, he was next.

"Death."

John didn't reply immediately, but he stopped struggling. If it was death…it would certainly explain Alma, to a certain degree…and the storm. But if Alma was the one it was after, why did it bring them here? Unless….

"Who is the other being it is here for?"

Gravemind took the palm off his faceplate and then stood up. He looked down at John as the combat forms moved off. Before Gravemind could reply, John already suspected the answer. The soldier pointed at him and whispered slowly, carefully.

"You."

*****

John blinked.

He just stared at Gravemind blankly as his mind raced to take it in. Even as he did so, he continued to watch the pair of eyes that were observing him in his mind. This was what he had faced many a time, and indeed, stared it down just as many times.

Death the thought ran across his mind. Considering how he had managed to dodge it so far, the question bugged him...why had it simply not come after him right away, if it were so powerful? Alma...the fall...the countless number of times he had dodged it in recent history. Why hadn't it simply not just taken him away. It was clear that Death had the power to warp time, and the universe itself – as was witnessed in the storm that surrounded them.

"Why doesn't it just take us?" he asked, voicing out the thought. "It has the ability." he continued, looking directly at Gravemind.

Gravemind, for his part, didn't reply immediately. Instead, more combat forms suddenly jumped down onto the elevator pads around him.

Where did so many bodies come from? John thought to himself. This ship must have been far, far more occupied than he had previously thought. Alma left behind nothing but charred skeletons, and he knew for a fact that the flood needed some matter left on their victims and bodies before they could make use of them. Either the flood had arrived much before he had come onboard and remained hidden...

The last possibility shook him, however. What if the flood had been here all along? But just as immediately, he dismissed it...why would the covenant allow flood to remain on their holy relic, one that powered the entire city?

Then Gravemind replying, interrupting John mid-thought. His voice was low, grave...

"It is death...the destroyer of worlds...it watches each of us take our journeys through life, and knows when to end it, as per the agenda given to it by those who control time, space and fate itself..."

Gravemind took a step forwards and continued, looking away to the side and to the combat forms surrounding.

"...but even it is not infallible. Death is something that comes to us not by direct action; but by circumstance...which is why it has not taken you yet."

"I don't understand." John replied. It was the truth, he didn't understand this at all. Gravemind's answers only led to more questions – despite not even answering the original one.

"For it to take you or Alma directly, with all your luck and her power, would be to breach the laws of existence, and destroy all that which you fight for..."

Gravemind's voice contained what seemed like a smile. It was so obvious that it frightened John to his core.

"...This is why it has set up this circumstance...this trap. It wants both of you, and will do everything it can to take you...but we know it is here, we know it is waiting. It will not have us; denying an end to our constant hunger...one that we shall end now."

John's mind raced as Gravemind revealed this particularly disturbing piece of information. What was Gravemind trying to say? Was he holding John and Alma 'hostage' as it were, not allowing either to die until it died first? Did John want to die? He considered it carefully. If he died here...what of the Covenant invasion? What of Earth, what of humanity? He was not afraid to die if it meant saving them – that ideal was something he had learned from day one of the Spartan program...but this situation was confusing...indeed.

John no longer knew what to do. He wished Cortona was here – she would at least have some advice, some insight to the situation.

The entire thing was...strange, odd and completely alien to what he was used for. As much as Gravemind frightened him, John couldn't help but feel there was something else to this entire fiasco. The images of Kirk, Fajhad and the others replayed in his mind; much as it did earlier. Memories of those that had died. What Gravemind now told him was disturbing in more ways than one.

To say that he was not afraid of death would be an utter and complete lie to himself. Every human being feared death...it was only a matter of how much he cared about it. John, like every soldier, was willing to die for the UNSC and Earth...but to watch helpless as his teammates had fallen...that was a far, far worse fate and always shook even the hardiest soldier to the core.

John noted that the motion tracker lit up as even more combat forms fell down into the elevator shaft. This situation could hardly be called good at all. Gravemind pointed directly at him, though and spoke.

"And this is where you come in...Circumstance is reaching its pinnacle; and your fate approaches the end of its cycle...you will help us find death, an end to the madness..."

Something caught John's attention. The way he had said 'your fate' had seemed...odd. He couldn't quite put it down, but he knew that there was something there, something important. But before he could do much about it, Gravemind raised his right hand, palm up. Something happened...and a figure began to form...John felt a tingling in his mind as it did...he didn't know exactly how Gravemind did it, but he somehow did. Perhaps he had tapped straight into John's mind, or maybe his suit system...how exactly was irrelevant. What mattered was the figure that stood in his palm.

It was Cortona. She was looking none too pleased at all, and seemed to be speaking to someone else. Her eyes had a fire behind them; one of anger and rage...yet at the same time, her posture was one of frustration...as if she was being coerced.

Then the image changed to someone else – or rather, a group of someone else, and John immediately recognized it. It was Sgt. Johnson, along with Miranda Keys and the elite he had seen when he had first met Gravemind.

"...do as we ask, help us to bring about an end to our suffering, the agony that has befallen us...or she, and the rest of your kind shall suffer."

As it to re-iterate his point, the image changed; this time...to that of Earth.

Just as slowly as it had arrived, the images faded away. John's mind reeled back with many questions. This was blackmail. Blackmail of the highest order, actually. Then the implications of the situation hit him. If the flood was here...and the forerunner ship was originally headed to Earth...

Even as he thought this, John's mission came clearer than ever. This ship could not be allowed to reach Earth; nor could its flood occupants allowed to touch one foot upon its soil. But how? he thought to himself. This forerunner ship...although the tech was familiar, without Cortona John realized that he would need some other way to ensure that.

He glanced back at the Elite, who was still unconscious, and then looked back at Gravemind. There was no choice. To save Earth, John had to do the exact opposite; and had to aid those that had wished to destroy it. While he felt little sympathy for the Covenant, the fact of the matter was that they were now at a Civil war of sorts, and the Elites had been betrayed by their leaders.

The flood on the other hand...the fact that he now had Cortona and High Charity...he could very well carry out that threat.

There was little choice in the matter.

Looking at Gravemind, John simply nodded slowly.

"Fine. You have my help."

Gravemind took a step forwards, and John could feel the smile in his voice.

Then something happened, and Gravemind's head shot up, towards the darkness above.

A ripple went through John's HUD systems, and then his armor became slow and unresponsive for a second before something happened.

There was a sound behind John, one that chilled him to the bone and made his blood run cold.

The sound was of laughter...of a small child laughing softly...

His HUD fuzzed again, encountering interference.

Oh God no. he thought to himself, instantly whirling around and then taking a leap backwards.

Standing in front of him was Alma, blood-stained skirt and all. Her hair covered her face, and John couldn't tell if she was looking at him specifically. Even worse to witness, however, was the gore and blood that was present behind her, as skeletons of the various flood forms that had surrounded them littered the grav lift. Fear rushed to his mind as she stood in front of him, slowly moving towards him, hands outstretched.

And then in the blink of an eye, she was gone, leaving nothing but dust and ashes in her wake. John glanced at the Elite, somewhat glad to find that he was still intact. So was Gravemind, even if the combat forms weren't.

But before either could reply, another form suddenly appeared where Alma had stood just a moment ago. He appeared suddenly, and out of nowhere. Yet it had seemed like he had been there forever. This person was...strange, wearing a similar uniform as the soldier, yet completely different. He didn't have the same mask as the soldier behind John.

John took a quick glance in the person's eyes before he disappeared. Not one, but two pairs of eyes looked back at him. One was in front of him...and the other was in his own mind; the pair that been looking at him earlier. He took a step back as shock and recognition went through his mind.

Death... Death was looking at him straight in the face, and within his mind.

And then just as quickly, it was gone, disappearing into the same pile of Ashes that Alma had left just seconds before.

The entire encounter shook him, from the inside out. He had claimed to have faced death many times till now...it had faced him again. But rather than him escaping it, it had ignored him, moving on after more important quarry. Fear went through his mind now greater than ever before, and he couldn't help but have a thought or two of what possibly the afterlife would be like.

Quenching those thoughts, however, John straightened himself out and brought his mind to the mission. Even if he were to die, he needed it to be worth something. His thoughts were interrupted as Gravemind spoke up behind him. John turned to face him.

"Time waits for no-one, and neither does Death. We must catch it before it catches its quarry, or else your civilization is doomed."

With that, the surviving combat forms leaped after the soldier as he ran off, out towards the near by exit. He turned back before entering it, though, indicating for him to follow.

John was about to go in, but glanced at the still-unconscious elite.

"Leave him. This is not his battle."

Thinking rapidly, John realized that carrying the elite would only slow him down. Not taking a second look, he ran and chased after the soldier, following him as they chased down Death itself.

*****


The world was nothing but a haze of pain and agony to Sadhal. He did not know how he was still alive, or indeed, why the fall hadn't killed him outright. During the landing, he thought he had felt a bone or two snap, but couldn't be sure. The pain was so indiscrete, so consuming he didn't even know where it originated from.

But then it slowly and steadily began to fade away. The haze started to dissipate and his senses started to retake their foothold in reality. In that haze, he had felt little other than the pain, but as it drifted off, he could hear far-off voices. One was familiar, but he couldn't place it, while the other was completely alien to his memory. He could only make out fragments, pieces of conversation. As he came to, he slowly began to recognize it as Terran standard.

Then the memories of what had happened began to return. The human, the ladder and the fall. All of it flashed through his mind, to result in a single thought, one that brought nothing but worry to his mind.

Why am I still alive?

By all accounts, he should he dead by now from the fall...and yet, strangely he wasn't.

The next thing he noticed was the foul stench that permeated the air. He nearly gagged at the repugnant odor; smelling of rotted carcasses and something else that seemed oddly familiar. Training won out and soon took over his thoughts as he slowly approached the edge of consciousness.

Realizing it was best that he get up as soon as possible, Sadhal began to move, opening his eyes and trying to take a look around in the darkness. He was on the elevator platform, and the entire floor was littered with debris of various size and shapes. Sadhal thanked his luck when not a foot away from where he had landed was a sharp spike

Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the elevator, he tried to look around for either the Demon or anything else. As they did, however, he was in for a big shock.

The source of the stench became immediately clear as Sadhal struggled to keep his stomach contents within himself. He was surrounded by bodies; all reduced to nothing but mere skeletons; each one mutated and mutilated to a significant degree. He recognized them as having belonged to Elites and Brutes once, but now there was nothing. However, the blood around them had a far different taint than it would normally have. Instead of being the regular purple hue that made up the blood of most elites, the skeletons were surrounded by a sickly shade of green that utterly disgusted Sadhal to the core.

How had they gotten to be like this? Had Alma missed a few survivors, and had then killed them as she found them later?

But then...why did she miss me? he thought to himself. No, it couldn't be that. Could these skeletons have been here all along, then? Yes, that must have been the answer. However, the green blood was odd...strange. And that stench...it smelt...different somehow...he had been near carcasses before, and the way the scent wafted through the air was far, far different than any normal one. In fact, it was similar to what he had sensed earlier in the corridor; the scent holding the same exact, disgustingly choking flavor.

Trying not to gag, Sadhal examined to see if anyone was alive around him, only to find nothing. The dust on the floor had been disturbed in several places, but it could have been the result of whatever had killed the elites and brutes surrounding him. Rather than question it, however, Sadhal wondered where the Demon had gone.

Has Alma taken him? the thought reverberated through his mind. He had been out for quite a while now. The Demon could have recovered and left by now. Sadhal snorted realizing that such a thing wasn't really all that surprising. Although temporarily brought together by Alma's presence, Sadhal still did not feel any sympathy for the humans. This was especially true since Alma was human – or at least seemingly, a dead one.

Considering what to do, Sadhal realized that his original plan was probably the best option. He needed to get off this ship, and onto the planet below. There may still be surviving Covenant ships around Earth itself, and if any were being controlled by the Elites, he had a chance of getting back into combat and once more being useful instead of just another puppet for the prophet.

With this in mind, he headed towards the corner of the gravity lift that housed the ladder – the same one he had fallen from earlier. Although as he looked up at the darkness, Sadhal felt a bit apprehensive of going up all over again, he realized there was little other choice.

If he was to survive this entire ordeal that meant that he'd need to get off this ship, and as far away from Alma as was possible. That meant getting to the seraph fighter in the hangar bay. But to that, he still needed to open the bay doors...which, sadly, needed to be done from the bridge.

Looking up at the darkness above, he only shook his head and then placed a hand on the rung. Slowly, steadily, he began to climb, his body disappearing from the dimly lighted area of the elevator and into the darkness of the elevator shaft.

This was going to be a long, long climb.

*****

Back in the remains of the cell block, the storm continued to rage outside the gaping hole, while a fiery inferno danced its way across the inside of the ship. The entire block was truly a scene from hell itself; with the temperatures being nearly hot enough to completely melt the walls inside.

The fire was odd, for if one were to look carefully enough to look into the inferno, and were able to survive it's deadly temperatures, one would be able to see that the flames simply burned. They did not consume any fuel, nor did they seem to suffer from the same lack of oxygen or medium that most normal fires would suffer from as well. Any living soul would have been frightened, indeed, nigh terrified to be in that cell at the moment.

But for the moment, at least, there was no living soul to witness the inferno as it played havoc with the contents of the room. Nor was there a living soul to witness the storm as it began to churn and boil faster than before. Immediately outside the gap in the hull, a significantly sized vortex began to form, the dark grey clouds whirling around and around in patterns and spirals that would make the average human dizzy if they were to watch it's creation and evolution.

Soon, the spirals began to spin faster and faster, till the flames began to be drawn towards it. Lightning arced outside the tear, lighting up the entire room in white. Like before, it's frequency increased continuously for several seconds till the entire room was filled with nothing but the sound of thunder and a blindingly white light.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, there was nothing. The light faded away, leaving behind it the still on-fire room behind it. But now, there was something different.

There was an object at the lip of the tear, or rather, a person. It kneeled on the ground, one hand balancing it. The person could be described as nothing short of a monster.

At eight feet in height, it towered over most normal humans, and could probably look over most brutes and elites with ease. Its monstrous size was almost as large as that of a hunter's in fact, and judging from the way it looked, it was probably far, far deadlier.

The figure was dressed in armor, which had a dark purple hue to it. The armor wasn't like any ordinary one, instead looked similar to a flak jacket made to fit it's gargantuan size; even then it left bare the figure's left shoulder and arm, along with a significant percentage of it's neck. Massive boots covered the monster's feet, while gloves covered incredibly swollen hands, while leaving its fingers exposed. The right hand and arm were grossly swollen, with the armor clearly stretching to accommodate them. Attached to the arm was what one would firmly recognize as a rocket launcher. A rather old model, compared to most UNSC devices today, it's design was consistent to a much earlier era.

Where the armor did not cover the skin, one could be able to see mottled human skin, with many red patches. There was no visible hair, and two massive veins ran on the outside of the creature's right shoulder structure, each one nearly as thick as a fist. They began and ended in the shoulder cavity itself, while two more snaked their way around the back of the monster's neck, before disappearing into their chest. Underneath the shoulder vein was a red device of some sort, blinking slowly amidst a section of exposed flesh.

As deformed as the creature appeared in the flesh, its face was far, far different. Its mouth was drawn back in grimace, with no visible lips, exposing a set of yellow, dirty teeth underneath. Its eyes were barely visible, being merely small, beady irises that seemed to glow an unholy white. A series of stitches ran across the centre and top of its bald, shriveled skull.

At one point of time, this figure may have been human; indeed, it may have led a normal life like any other. Perhaps within it's mind; behind the grotesque abomination lay a trapped mind, only waiting for the right moment before it could either escape…or find some method with which to end it's torment.

But for now, as it slowly rose it's purpose was clear. This was a mighty foe; one that had resisted the advances of death many a time, but had eventually fallen to it. Now, its soul claimed and the mercy of an embodiment of entropy itself, the being's purpose had changed. In another universe, and another time somewhat distant from that of the UNSC's, this being was created at the express purpose as a bio-weapon by one of the planet's major corporations. To some of the life-forms there, they would known it as the 'Nemesis' project.

However, that is there, and this is now. Nemesis was no longer the great weapon of its creators, but rather, now a mere pawn of death itself. However, this fact did not make it any less deadly, or reduce its sheer tenacity.

Slowly, it took a step forwards. The flames that were on the floor and ceiling suddenly shifted, and parted. They made a path in front of the nemesis; allowing him to walk through unscathed.

Grimly, the massive form began to walk forwards through the path. It now had been given a purpose; one which it would now complete. Capable of only minor thought, thanks to the chip in its brain, it walked out of the cell block, intent on hunting down its target…one that was now climbing up the ladders to the bridge.

Sadhal. It slowly hissed the name that death had given to it. As lucky as he may be, John 117 was not the only one being hunted by death today.

********

The climb up was long and tedious, to say the least. The ladder rungs had been broken in a few places, and Sadhal nearly had a few close calls along the way; but he had managed to overcome each one and gotten through it just fine.

Not too bad. he thought to himself, as he got off the ladder and into the small alcove next to the door. There was a route into the main bridge itself that was used by the engineer castes for rapid transit. But it was too small for Sadhal to squeeze into, forcing him to dismiss that possibility.

If things were only too easy.

He briefly considered his options. Leaning out from the alcove, he noticed the thin ledge that ran around the wall of the elevator shaft. It was just a foot away from the edge of the alcove and just wide enough to fit his foot sideways. There were some hand-holds in the gap between the door and the alcove.

Reaching out for the hand-holds and trying his best to maintain balance, Sadhal deftly and quickly swung himself out of the alcove and onto the ledge. The holds kept their grip onto the otherwise-smooth wall as Sadhal slowly and carefully scraped his way over the edge; somewhat thankful he was facing the wall, as opposed to the dark gloom below. Sadhal was far, far higher than before, and if he were to fall now, he would more than likely die.

Best not to tempt fate twice. He thought to himself, edging closer to the control panel on the other side of the door. Sadhal went as far as he could while grabbing onto the hand-hold. Fortunately, the door itself had several places where he could forcefully grab and open it. Sadhal realized that doing so in his current situation would be close to impossible, to say the least.

As he grabbed onto the gaps in the door, Sadhal exhaled the breath that he had been unconsciously holding before letting go of the hand hold. Bringing his hand about, he then proceeded to move across the door and to the control panel and hand hold on the other side. All the while, he continued to pray that the power remained out and that the door would remain closed, as opposed to detecting his motion and then opening up right now. Either the door opening or the lift coming up would kill him right about now; a fact that would simply not quit nagging his mind. Thoughts of his potential demise seem to fill his mind by their own volition; and of the suffering that he would have at Alma's hands should he somehow manage to meet her again.

Sadhal shook his head. Focus. He was loosing sight of the objective, which was to get as far away from Alma as possible – which, in turn, was only possible by opening up the fighter bay from the bridge…which in turn was on the other side of the door he was hanging off of now.

Sighing slightly, he continued to pull himself across, making it a point not to look back and down. At least, he tried not to, but failed when he heard it. A loud clang sounded off from the bottom of the elevator shaft; resounding and echoing it's way up to him. It was shortly followed by another and then another; almost as if someone was beating against one of the doors on the lower deck, trying to either claw or beat it's way through. It continued on for several seconds, beating in a regular rhythm and pattern that grew steadily louder and louder.

Catching himself, Sadhal moved. Crossing the door as fast as he could, he grabbed the hand-hold and then began to work on the control panel. Fortunately, his access codes to the doors hadn't been removed yet by the engineers, allowing for the door to open swiftly and silently. Reaching around the door, Sadhal swung into the corridor, taking out the plasma rifle and bringing it up in case of any danger. Through the door, Sadhal could hear as the clanging on the lower door stop, only to be replaced by the loud screech of a door being dragged open.

Not wanting to find out who or what it may be, Sadhal immediately went to the panel, closing the door and then locking it. Whatever it was, if it could open a door like that, Sadhal didn't want anything to do with it. For all he cared, it could be the denizens of hell itself rising up and claiming the ship – his main objective right now was to get to the bridge, and then getting off.

After the console beeped in recognition of his code, Sadhal turned around. There was a junction connecting three corridors here. All were bathed in the yellow color of alert sirens and emergency power. One corridor went off in front of him, while two more went off to either side and slightly behind him. Turning right, he ran down the corridor, heading straight towards the bridge. It was a straight jog; barely twenty meters before he reached the turning that led in. Judging from what he remembered, Sadhal knew that there would be a short stairway, leading up to the command deck, and from there he could get into the bridge.

There was normally a separate force field on the bridge; but hopefully, if anyone was alive he'd be able to convince them of what happened and they would lower it to let him in.

But what of the prophet? the thought hit him. If indeed, anyone was alive, so would the prophet…would he be able to convince them of what happened…of the little human girl that had somehow killed everyone on the ship. And indeed, what of the brutes that surrounded him? Would they believe him at all, or just kill him off…or worse?

The thoughts were struck clean from his mind, however, as he approached the turning that led into the access way. Although it was dark, he could feel that he had stepped into something…some form of liquid. The entire floor ahead of him was covered in it; and so too were the walls. It flowed and moved; and more importantly, it stank of charred flesh and bones; as if someone had been set on fire and just left there.

Blood. to Sadhal's sheer shock and horror, he realized that he was standing in a rather large pool of blood; one that was still collecting even as he took a step to get away from it.

No….it can't be. he thought to himself; struck by a wave of nausea and uneasiness taking over him. Had the force field collapsed? And if so…he could only shudder as he imagined what the bridge would be like. It would explain a lot of things, as it were, including the lack of any armed resistance thus far.

Holding his breath and taking a step further, Sadhal literally waded into the massive pool of blood; which as he got closer to the doorway, became deeper and deeper till it covered his feet almost completely.

Turning the corridor; he found it's source, much as he had dreaded. The charred skeletons and remains of almost two dozen brutes littered the corridor behind where the force field had been; including one that was near the console itself. The skeletons themselves only had a small portion visible above the blood; indicating just how deep it was. The scene was horrendous and gut-churning. For all the Brutes had done…not even they deserved a fate as this.

At least, I don't have to worry about the prophet anymore. Sadhal thought to himself as he carefully stepped through the remains. When he was past it, and up the stairway, he breathed a sigh of relief, and tried wiping the blood off his feet; only to give up and continue on, leaving a trail of the Brute's blood behind him.

The access way split into a ring-like corridor that went around the bridge. Rather than go around, Sadhal took the immediate entrance in, opening the door using his codes. The room beyond was dark, with even the emergency lights being off. The only light came through from behind Sadhal, but even that was somewhat reduced.

Moving around, he felt for the light control switch. Although he wasn't technically an engineer, he still had enough experience to know that there were back-up lights to even the backups. They were installed right next to the door, so as to facilitate easy access. Feeling around, Sadhal found the panel cover and opened it, at which point he was greeted by the soft blue glows of the forerunner control panel. Activating it, Sadhal was somewhat relieved as several blue and white lights came on all over the bridge and at the various consoles.

As they did come up, however the scene had sadly been just as he had expected; with there being an incredible amount of blood and gore all over the place. Skeletons lay thrown over consoles and chairs, while in the centre of it all lay the remains of the prophet. The chair still hovered over where it had been, forming a rather eerie sight as the prophet's bone structure remained stuck on the chair, the expression on the skull frozen in pain and agony.

Shaking his head, Sadhal stepped into the massacre that was the bridge. Normally, this would have disturbed him greatly…but after the events of today…he doubted he'd ever be as disturbed by such gore as he had been just a few moments ago. Holstering his plasma rifle, he looked around and found the control console he was looking for at the other end of the room, past the prophet's throne.

Creeping along the side, he closed the door behind him and made his way around the bridge. Finally reaching it a bit later, Sadhal checked the controls, and found that, surprisingly, they were still working. Thanking his luck, he began to unlock the controls to the fighter bay's launch hanger. Although it would still remain closed, he would be able to open it manually from there itself. His task done, Sadhal breathed a sigh of relief. All he had to do now was to head down to the fighter bay, grab the last Seraph fighter, and then flee for his life. To make the journey a bit quicker, he activated the lifts as well; and brought up the elevator he had just been in up to the bridge level.

It was hardly an honorable prospect, and went against all of his training, and indeed, his very upbringing. All elites were taught to die in battle; and indeed, he truly did want that honorable fate. But to go against a foe like Alma…that was not an honorable death…that was a stupid one. Nothing he had could possibly enable him to fight her, while she in return could potentially throw him a fate far worse than death itself.

His thinking was interrupted, however, when a loud thud rang out behind him.

Whirling around, Sadhal brought up his rifle at the door. Another thud rung out, deeper than the previous one, and was soon followed by another. It's distinctive trait was a dead giveaway for being footsteps. Looking around, Sadhal spied a brute plasma rifle next to the nearest skeleton. Brushing aside the skeleton, he dual-wielded the rifles. Taking cover behind one of the panels, Sadhal aimed the rifles at the door, ready to fire at whatever came through.

The thuds slowly started to get louder, and heavier, increasing the tension in the air as they approached just outside the door. Then something banged against the door with a loud metallic clang, startling Sadhal. The clanging grew louder and louder as something tried to make its way through the door. It was then that he could hear a muffled voice coming through the door.

Sadhal was about to move out of the cover and go out the alternative exit when, suddenly, the door opened and a Brute – a live one – stumbled into the bridge. Sadhal eased a bit, but didn't lower the rifles. As much as he was glad to see something other than the Demon or Alma, a Brute wasn't really all that much higher up on the list. And judging from the ranks on this one's flag, it was the commander of the local company. The brute swept his immediate surroundings with the grenade launcher before spotting Sadhal and focusing it on him.

"You! How dare you bring your incompetence into the sanctum of the hierarchs?"

The commander asked, giving a low growl. Sadhal frowned before he replied, somewhat annoyed at this. He didn't have time for this, yet if he didn't delay the brute here and now, he would probably kill Sadhal and take the fighter for himself.

"The human girl has killed everyone on the ship, including the prophet and many more. She is currently loose on the lower decks…what makes you believe that I wouldn't be up here if she were down there?"

The Commander growled in reply.

"Do no show me your insolence, heretic! I bet her presence here has something to do with your kind! How did you survive her, if you have seen her?"

"My shields protected me against her. A better question, however, would have been how you survive with no form of energy shielding."

Sadhal countered, somewhat curious as to how the Brute had survived. He purposely made sure not to mention anything about the demon, or what he had been doing so far – the situation was tense and bad enough on it's own as it is.

The brute only grunted and didn't reply. He looked at the console which Sadhal had used to open up the fighter bay and only nodded, giving an amused huff at the elite.

"I see your survival instincts kicked in first…it is not a wonder the prophets left you."

Sadhal growled in reply. This brute was getting the better of him.

Unacceptable.

"Says the one that crawled into a hiding hole to save himself and abandon his squad."

Before anyone could reply and the argument continue onwards, Sadhal heard something coming from to his right; a slight ca-chink sound – one which was very, very familiar. Then something streaked across his vision, leaving a trail of smoke behind before it impacted the Brute dead-on in the chest, knocking him backwards and blowing a massive hole through the torso. The commander let out a gurgled howl before it died out and his corpse fell against the wall behind him.

Looking at where it came from, Sadhal turned to his right…only to get the most horrific shock of his life, as he gazed upon the form that stood at the bridge's port entrance.

The form was massive, and had clearly been human at one point of time. It was significantly deformed, however, and far more massive than it should have been. It easily towered over him and could probably see over the brute. Sadhal could easily see the mottled skin and patches of mutated flesh all along the body.

Could this be flood? No. This thing…this aberration was far, far different than any of the flood forms he had seen to date…and the weapon it carried was unlike anything he had seen either the humans or any covenant to carry.

It was now facing Sadhal, and looked at him with blank, white eyes that seemed to shine with something deeper…darker. It shook the weapon in it's hand, and Sadhal recognized the form of a spent rocket coming out of the chamber. The same sound as earlier came as a new rocket was loaded into the chamber…which it now pointed straight at him.

Time seemed to slow as Sadhal leaped out of the way instinctively. A massive fire issued forth from the rear of the launcher as the rocket launcher and then streaked across the room. It approached him while he was in mid-leap, barely missing his shield by less than two or three centimeters. It's trail burned the shield however, throwing the exhaust into the red as he felt the increase in heat. The rocket then flew straight into the opposite control panel, impacting in a massive explosion that pushed Sadhal off his balance as he landed, and onto his side. The blast from the explosion drove him into the edge of the console, sending a sharp blast of pain through his back and side. But Sadhal recovered quickly enough to turn around….only to watch, dumbstruck as the creature leaped through the air, almost eight meters, and land right in front of him. It drew it's hand back – the rocket launcher mysteriously vanishing behind its back – and then brought it down. It hit the ground where Sadhal had been standing just a second ago, creating a massive dent and eliciting a roar of pain from the creature, as it withdrew its smashed hand.

Sadhal rolled away and immediately came up firing. Blue and Red plasma bolts filled the air, landing on the creature's flak jacket and melting away chunks of its flesh. It roared in pain, but incredibly kept coming despite the attacks. It brought it's hand back up – and Sadhal was shocked to see that the bone structure seemed to have healed itself – and then just as quickly punched Sadhal directly in the gut before he had a chance to reply.

The strength behind the punch was enormous, enough to throw him across the room and into the wall on the other side. His shields immediately died out after having taking most of the energy from it. Still, despite the shield, Sadhal nearly cried out in pain as he felt even more of his ribs break from the assault, while the already-shattered ones protested at the ill-treatment they were receiving.

Still, somehow he managed to find the energy to get up. He looked to the side and found that he had fortunately managed to land right next to the door. Taking this opportunity, Sadhal quickly ran out, hit the emergency lock, and then proceeded to run down the access way faster than he had ever run in his life.

What the hell was that thing? Sadhal thought to himself as he jumped over the bloody remains in the corridor. There was no time for respect or anything else – otherwise he, too, would be joining them. He paused and gasped at the turn into the main corridor as a sharp pain ran through his chest, however. His injuries were severe, and he doubted he had the strength to take the ladders down…and the elevator was just a sitting target if that thing blew out the top doors. He needed another way down. Remembering a series of access ramps to the far side of the ship, Sadhal looked back, only to hear the thump of heavy footsteps running and following him.

Definitely the ramps.

With that last thought, he turned and ran down to the elevators and the corridors, with nemesis in hot pursuit.

****

Meanwhile, on the lower decks of the ship, John 117 was having difficulties of his own. Gravemind was racing off ahead of him, and John could clearly make out the fact that he was actually going slow to allow him to keep up. Most Spartans – even in their armor, still ran pretty fast – faster than any unaltered human, at any rate. However, even without his armor, John doubted if he would have been able to keep up with the soldier – whom, as if to make it seem worse, had actually suffered far worse injuries than John himself. But then, he did have Gravemind, and the power of the flood infection driving him onwards.

That fact did little to comfort him, however. The soldier was easily a match for a Spartan, maybe even two, should circumstances be in his favor. This indicated that either whomever had enhanced him was probably fairly advanced, or he was one hell of a genetic freak…or was it a combination of both? Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't. All John knew now was that this soldier was from nowhere in the UNSC, and hell, probably nowhere in this universe or time-frame at all, if one were to judge by the helicopter that had crashed into the cell block below.

As they passed by an intersection, John began to wonder. Where were they headed? They were obviously chasing a foe that was capable of teleportation, and yet they were simply running? Or was he lost, merely moving around at random? Did Gravemind even have a plan, or know where they were going in the first place? As Gravemind stopped just before yet another intersection, John stopped and spoke up, trying to get his attention before he ran off again.

"Where are we going?"

Gravemind didn't look back as he replied.

"To chase down death."

"How, exactly?" John asked, somewhat annoyed at the vague response. Gravemind turned around, and seemed to smile as he replied, slowly and in a tone that sent shivers up his spine.

"By bringing Alma to us."

As chilling as the prospect may have been, John was more concerned about how exactly Gravemind was going to accomplish this. Alma was being chased by death through the ship now; which meant that they pretty much had no chance to catch up, hence the plan was a logical one. Save, of course, for the most important flaw: their was no reason for Alma to come to them, other than to kill them, of course. So he re-iterated his question again.

"How?"

"How do you think?"

Came the cryptic reply. John was getting frustrated at this, yet there was absolutely nothing he could do. Like it or not, he was at the mercy of Gravemind here, and if he wanted to be cryptic and offer riddles…there was little that John could do in reply. Except for just asking, and maybe playing along, perhaps.

"I don't know."

Although John couldn't clearly see it behind the soldier's gas mask, he could feel it as Gravemind's expression changed to one of annoyance, and slight anger, with his tone matching it.
"She will come to us, because I said so. Death cannot take Alma while she is with us, but neither is she capable of defeating either of us without it. She knows this…she will come…she has to come, otherwise death will claim her…if not now, then eventually."

John considered this for a brief second. Alma seemed perfectly capable of causing harm, even in the soldier's presence before…but with Gravemind, it could be a different story. It did seem logical…

His thoughts were interrupted however, as his radio suddenly burst to life and crackled. John's head snapped up as he heard voices. Human voices, to be specific. The tone was short, crisp, and more of barks of orders and than anything else. He recognized the orders though – whomever they were, they were marines. However, it was slightly different to what he was accustomed to.

Up ahead of him, Gravemind seemed to look up and notice this as well. He didn't move, didn't say a word. Instead, he slid up to the wall and carefully began to move forwards towards the intersection. He glanced back, and placed one finger on his mouth, indicating for John to remain quiet. From behind John, a flood combat form stepped forward and past him. It then went past the soldier and into the intersection.

The radio came alive once more and a single, loud voice came out over the radio. He heard it twice, though, for an echo seemed to be coming from the corridor as well.

"Hostile contact. Open Fire!"

Gunfire roared from the corridor, and would have deafened John had it not been for the automatic filters in his suit. At the same time, the combat form flew back at a speed that was simply shocking as several strange spikes hit in the chest, face and arms. The spikes were obviously High Velocity rounds, as proven by the way they buried themselves into the wall, and essentially nailed the combat form with them as well.

"Hostile down."

A shout came from the intersection and John's radio set. It was at this point of time that another combat form walked to both men standing there. But rather than repeat the same mistake that it's predecessor had made, the combat form stopped in front of both the men. It was then that the Gravemind took the weapon it was wielding – a Covenant carbine. Gravemind turned back to John, and spoke to him, his tone somewhat grave.

"It appears that death has employed the Replicas to aid in its cause...Be on your guard; for these foes are nearly as tough as my vassal, and they are heavily armed."

With that, the Gravemind turned and moved with astonishing speed. Even with John's reflexes, he was unable to keep up as the soldier's body disappeared around the bend, and the sound of several carbine rounds being fired came to him. In response, several more HV spikes buried themselves into the wall and the nailed combat form to his right. Looking around, he realized that he lacked a weapon – something which was immediately fixed when another combat form came up to him and handed him a battle rifle.

"Hostile Contact! Take him down!

Taking it, John checked the motion tracker and his shields, noting where the targets should be from the movement. Time seemed to slow as John took a breath, and then dived out into the corridor.

The corridor ended just around 10 meters down the intersection, but any proper assault on the position would be impossible. These 'Replicas' as the Gravemind called them, were firmly entrenched behind several barricades, through which they opened fire. However, despite this, Gravemind had already nailed two of the Replicas in the head with multiple Carbine rounds. Oddly, each Replica was dressed almost the same as the Gravemind himself, and were clearly soldiers of the same caliber, except more numerous. They wore different kinds of gas masks, but other than that each was identical to the other, much like clones or such. Same height, same build, same everything. There wasn't even any rank or such identification on their arms or shoulders.

However; there was one big difference: their injuries. Despite having a hole in their head the size of a coin from the Carbine burst, two of the Replicas were still firing away, clearly conscious and in control of their motor skills. If nothing else, John had to give it to these people for being incredibly determined. John concentrated on these two first, firing off a three round burst at each. The bullets streaked across, just barely above the Gravemind's head before burying themselves into the Replica's head. The damage was apparently too much, and both fell instantly. However, the new target caught the remaining three Replica's attention, all of whom promptly fired at him.

"Two Men down! We need re-enforcements!"

HV rounds flew across space and impacted against John's shields. Although all of them bounced off, the sheer mass and velocity was enough to drain his shields completely, not to mention slam his half-ton armor right into the wall as he cleared the intersection. Fortunately, he managed to make it all the way through, despite the change in direction, and took cover. His chest and abdomen burst into pain from the injuries he had taken so far. However, it faded a moment later as the suit's painkillers came in and dulled it to nothing. Breathing heavily, John got up and was about to run back into the corridor when he noticed something right next to his leg.

It was small, blue and round and upon closer examination was clearly a Covenant plasma grenade. Thanking his luck, John wasted no time as he lifted the grenade and jumped up. Gravemind by this time was up on his feet and already retreating back to cover. As he came around the corridor, firing away, John noticed no less than three spikes buried in his torso and arm. Gravemind seemed to noticed this as well, and simply ripped each spike out. It was a sight that chilled John to the core. No Spartan would have been able to survive such a HV round without shields, much less pull them out after being hit with them. It also scared him that they were going against such opponents. The Covenant were one thing…but this?

Pushing the thoughts away, John waited a few seconds for his shields to recharge fully. This time, however, he didn't exactly go into the fray. Rather, he stood near the edge of the intersection, and then calmly threw the grenade in. He just withdrew his hand in time as a HV spike flew to where it had been. However, even before the grenade could land, the Replicas had reacted, as judged by their response over the radio.

"Squad down! Take Cover!"

This was promptly followed a second later by the large splash of both sound and heat that erupted from the corridor end. Snaking the optical cord around the corridor, John was somewhat disappointed to see that the Grenade had only taken one of the Replicas down, and had only taken the arm off another – who now wielded his weapon single-handed using the other.

"Pull back!

One of them shouted. The one-armed Replica opened fire with the HV Cannon, forcing John and the Gravemind to remain under cover as hurried footsteps could be heard. By the time John looked back, he could see another door sliding shut behind both Replicas.

"Come. The hunt goes on, my friend."

Gravemind spoke from behind him, walking past John and into the corridor. There was little John could do but follow him wordlessly.

Hunting indeed.

He thought to himself, suddenly wishing that this day would end soon. After all he had seen today, somehow dying didn't seem like too bad a prospect anymore. What would come in next? Whatever it was, John really didn't want to find out.

*****

They ran for what seemed like ages, crossing the span of several rooms and what looked like research labs occasionally. They were now in one large, rather empty cargo bay, but for the most part the travel had been quiet. There were no signs of any Replicas so far, except perhaps the trail of blood the injured one had left behind. But even it had stopped after either the Replica had bandaged it, or the wound had closed enough for it to stop bleeding. Gravemind had, for the most part, remained quiet till now, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

John was still unsure where they were going to. It seemed they were crossing the width of the ship and had traveled for a significant distance already. The other end – and more than likely Gravemind's objective – could not be far away now. The lack of Replicas had been somewhat convenient thus far. However, that didn't change the fact that with each door they went to, both men remained on high alert.

And that alertness paid of as both were approaching the Cargo bay exit. John took the approach from the right of the door, while Gravemind took the left. The door opened as they approached, sliding open quickly and exposing a short corridor beyond that led into an intersection and several other rooms.

"All units, fall back! Seal that route!"

The call came out over the radio and again echoed from outside and John's head snapped to its source. Some distance from the door, he could see no less than four replicas hot-legging it away from the door and into one of the separate rooms.

John looked at Gravemind before taking a step towards the door to follow them. It was then that the second burst of static came over the radio as one of the Replicas shouted

"All clear! Fire in the hole!"

Neither of them had time to react, or even move as the signature click of a C4 or similarly sized explosive could be heard, and a massive explosion filled the corridor beyond. The shockwave erupted out from the door, lifting both Gravemind and the Master Chief off their feet, only to drop them nearly ten feet away from where they had stood. John grunted in pain as he landed on a container, further aggravating his injuries.

He dulled the pain, though and slowly got up. He looked up at the remains of the door and the corridor, which was now alight with flames and oddly…steam. The fire soon died out a few moments later as green super-coolant flooded the corridor and began to seep in the cargo room. .

Must have hit a coolant line. That would explain it pretty well, actually. He looked around, searching for Gravemind.

Gravemind had been thrown a bit farther than John had been, but had already recovered and was surveying the damage. John considered this carefully…although clearly wearing a highly protective body armor, as well as being extra-ordinarily tough, the soldier hadn't been kitted for EVA or any space work, and hence lacking in any armor that would hold up against the super-coolant. John's armor on the other hand, was more than suited for the task. Gravemind must have seen this as he turned to John and spoke somewhat quickly.

"Death seeks to stop our advance, and it may have succeeded to an extent…" He pointed at the door and the super-coolant before continuing.

"Go through that corridor and past the rooms beyond…it will lead you to a series of ramps that head up straight to the bridge. I will meet you there once you arrive…"

John frowned. The bridge? Didn't they just have an objective, to chase down Alma?

"Why the bridge?"

Gravemind cocked his head to one side, as if considering whether to answer the question or not. Finally, after a minute, he replied.

"The prophet promised Salvation to his people…to save his civilization and bring them the glory beyond death…he sought out the ark, to raise it from its eternal grave using the song of time, space and the darkness of life itself."

Gravemind paused…as if considering what to say next. His tone turned low, dark, much like it had before he had shown John death's eyes.

"Have you heard it? Ever listened to it?"

"Listened to what?"

John asked, obviously not sure what Gravemind was referring to.

"The song of life…the one that plays as it reverberates through the very souls of your species…the very essence of your beings?"

John shook his head, not liking where this was going. Gravemind looked away for a second…as if listening to a conversation or melody that was happening far away.

"I hear it…I hear it reverberate through every human being whose mind is absorbed into my own…the beauty, the symmetry…it lasts with the human will as it fights my presence for the brief few moments before it is overwhelmed…in a select few, the music, the song remains as do their wills and minds…those few that I cannot crush."

John's blood ran cold as he listened to Gravemind's words. Despite what had gone on till now, he had to remind himself of the true nature of the being he was talking to, and of the sheer mental power it wielded.

How many souls have you consumed? How many lives have you crushed to hear that song? John thought, considering what he had said. Gravemind ignored him, however, and continued on.

"The ones you called the 'forerunners'….they could hear it too…hear it call to them across the cosmos and time itself. They reveled in it, as did their creations. They knew only a few other species had that song…that symphony within them, as it were…but not everyone could hear it. That same symphony is the basis of all their technology, which now moves to the rhythm, the movements of time and space itself. Although you cannot hear it, I can."

Gravemind took a step towards him, and John backed up instinctively. What he had just said…could it be true?

"And just as I can hear it, so can they."

"Who?" John asked…but he already suspected who Gravemind was referring to.

"Ah…but you know that already, don't you?"

John could almost feel the smile through the mask.

It couldn't be. John thought, taking a step back as the truth finally revealed himself to him.

"oh…but it is…soon, with time…you too will hear it, and witness the things I have seen, and hear the song as it is so close…unfortunately for us, when death denied us what we wanted…"

Gravemind's tone suddenly changed. It became darker…angrier. John could feel a rage building at its base, originating from how many centuries of isolation and insanity…

"It took away the song that filled us with purpose and led us through this world. It took away what was ours…it left us alone, it left us to listen to a universe that was empty and as soundless as the vacuum of space. We hungered then…we hungered for so long for that song, for the souls that once littered and filled the galaxy from one end to the other…for thousands of years we watched and waited as creatures came to us…but when we fed on them, we found nothing but silence…and then, you came."

Gravemind's voice changed, and he gave out a short laugh as John stepped back. Although horrified.

"Why do you think they call your species as the reclaimers, John 117? Why do you think that you were chosen amongst so many others to become a SPARTAN? Why do you think that the few guardians that were left behind recognize your word above the covenants?"

Gravemind came closer, driving John back up against the wall. There was noplace to go as Gravemind came face to face with the Spartan and spoke lowly, quickly.

"It is because we hear the songs that echo through your souls. It is because they, like us, hunger for those songs. But unlike the guardians left behind to 'contain' us, we have no qualms when it comes to simply taking those songs from you, till either there is none left, or till Death takes us."

Gravemind paused once more, and then stepped back and away from John.

"The song sings very loudly through your soul, my friend…it is one of the reasons that death has not been able to claim you as of yet."

He paused for a second, then nodded.

"On the bridge, the prophet has with him a relic left behind by the ones that came before…a relic which holds within it the songs of their race, and the final legacy of their fallen empire. Find this relic, and Alma will seek refuge near it, as it will keep Death away from her. She has already sought for it, and failed…but you may have a better chance at finding it…she will most likely stop you on the way. But you, like the vassal that I now control, are strong enough to deter her. Go, I will meet you there."

With that, Gravemind turned and ran off towards the intact exit, leaving a very puzzled and confused John behind.

What did I just learn? he contemplated…John really didn't know which was more frightening; what had happened thus far, or what Gravemind had told him about not only the forerunners, but his entire race.

Will the beast betray us to satisfy his hunger?

John couldn't help but question Gravemind's purposes in this case, and what would happen should he finally get what he want…

Will he die and bring an end to this…or will he simply become stronger, and be the end of us all?

John really didn't know. He didn't want to know. But something told him he'd be finding out soon enough anyway. Putting the thoughts aside, he focused on the mission at hand. Too many lives were at stake…and if there even a small chance of saving them, he had to follow Gravemind.

However, that didn't mean he couldn't cheat at the game. In the end, he always won, and this would indeed be no different.

As the combat forms disappeared behind Gravemind, John checked his battle rifle. He still had two full clips left, excluding the one in the rifle itself. He had, over the past several rooms, managed to pick up four plasma grenades, though, which meant that he could use them in case his ammo ran out.

Sighing, John moved out, heading towards the door. He stepped over the frozen rubble, as he waded into the coolant. The suit's auto-temperature functions kicked in as did the now-recharged shields, holding the freezing cocld off at bay. The damage had been pretty severe here, as judged by the immense holes on the walls. A significant amount of debris blocked his way, upon which a waterfall of super-coolant cascaded down from the ceiling and through it, till it finally met the floor and the pool of Coolant gathered there.

Shaking his head, John began to climb up the pile of debris, slinging his rifle as he did so. When he reached the small gap at the top, he checked the motion tracker as well as checking for any sounds in the area. Fortunately, there was nothing beyond the pile, and as he climbed through and gracefully dropped down onto the floor, nothing reacted to his presence either.

Removing the battle rifle, he kept it at the ready, and considered which way to go. There were three doors in front of him, each probably leading a different sector of the ship. Deciding to take the most straightforward route, he chose the door in the middle, and walked in. The room beyond was small, consisting of several consoles and repair gear. A wraith tank stood to one side, inactive, along with a few of the smaller ghosts. Although using the vehicles would be tempting, in the small corridors of the ship, it would only serve to slow him down a bit.

Snaking along the wall, John checked the room and made sure it was clear before nodding and carefully approaching the door from the side. It lit up and slid open, as he approached from the side.

"What was that?" John immediately heard as his radio crackled with activity once more. Rather than wait for them to finish, he snaked the optical cord around the door's edge and took a quick peak.

The room beyond was more of a lab than anything else, with various consoles and tables scattered all over the place. At the centre, a single glowing sphere hovered in a stasis field of some sort, surrounded by several sensors and instruments, as well as consoles from which engineers or scientists would study it.

However, what was more important was what was in front of it. Several tables had been moved and knocked over, forming large barricades behind which no less than a dozen Replicas had taken cover, and all had their weapons pointed at the door. These replicas were different, though. Unlike the others, which had gas masks, these just wore a mask over their mouths, and what was obviously a primitive set of NVGs over their eyes. They held several of the HV weapons he had seen earlier, but in addition to that, he could recognize a variety of twentieth century shotgun, as well as sub-machine guns and some sort of strange rifle he couldn't immediately recognize.

"Flush him out!"

One of them said. It was then that John saw it. It wasn't like the other Replicas at all, but it more than definitely was one. Unlike the others, all of whom wore regular body armor, this one was dressed in a massive suit that looked like it was powered armor. The helmet had four bright blue eye pieces – two were probably for normal situations while the other two seemed to be advanced sensors to detect targets at night, or possibly through walls. The heavy armor Replica held a massive gun in its hand, significantly larger than any other human weapon he'd seen to date. It had a solid build, with three massive barrels in the front, similar in width and size to that of a rocket launcher's. He stared at it through the optical scope in awe, for a second. If it was a rocket launcher, that meant that he was significantly outgunned and probably even outclassed in this scenario. He then saw one of the Replicas behind the tables duck and then come back up, this time with a grenade in hand.

"Grenade out!"

John cursed and then dived away from the door just as the grenade was thrown. The door closed, and he could hear it as it bounced off and then exploded right on the other side. The doors bloomed outwards from the explosion, physically deforming to a certain extent. The sound and pressure wave managed to make it through however, and washed over John's shields, draining them partially.

Coming up, he held the rifle towards the door and then lowered it when he realized that it was probably jammed.

Looks like I'll need another way around. John thought. He double-backed to the intersection and took the door to the right and entered another storage room just like the middle one, except that there were two wraiths here and no ghosts. He kept a hidden position near the closets Wraith, in case there were people in the room.

Unfortunately for him, this one was not as empty as he had thought. Two replicas exited from the doors opposite on the other side, one armed with a shotgun and the other with an assault rifle. Again, the radio crackled as an outside signal came in.

"Echo 1 and 2, note that hostile might be trying to double back and flank the main group. Keep a sharp lookout and report back every five minutes."

A burst of static, and one of the Replicas replied.

"Roger. We'll keep a look out. Echo 2 out."

The situation wasn't good. John would much rather fight Covenant. At least they were predictable and hardly ever adapted. These Replicas, on the other hand, could more than easily pose a problem for even the toughest Earth Special Forces. He couldn't help but imagine how much damage they could do to the Covenant, though. Their weaponry was far advanced than what the USNC had, and the training was obviously better as well – to say nothing of their resilience. John had no illusions that if given power armor just like theirs, an equal number of Replicas could probably outperform SPARTANS simply out of sheer toughness alone.

Yet, he now had to get through probably a horde of them. He stepped closer to the wraith, and wasn't paying attention when suddenly, his boot hit the tank, causing a soft clang as metal met metal. It was too tiny to be heard, really, and any Covenant grunt or elite probably wouldn't even have heard it.

But these weren't grunts or Elites.

"What was that?"

One of the Replicas asked, and both instantly went onto high alert.

"Echo 1, check it out."

One of them barked.

"Roger, cover me."

Shit. John cursed. This wasn't good, not good at all. He crouched, keeping his hearing up as the Replica slowly began to creep towards his position, weapon raised. The replica was on the other side of the tank now, and judging from his sound, was probably headed around the tank. However, it was then that John heard the other one coming from the opposite direction, which he double confirmed with the motion tracker. He cursed mentally. They were good…perhaps a little too good.

Thinking quickly, John quietly reached up the tank and climbed up. He successfully managed to get on to the top of the tank just as they rounded it, only to find nothing. They looked at each other for the moment, before nodding and moving off. John breathed a sigh of relief, and waited tensely as they moved off. Once they had gotten a few feet away from the tank, he began to climb off and to the other side…

At that point of time, his luck ran out when a part of his weapons containment suddenly failed, and a plasma grenade slipped out from where it was held, clattering onto the ground.

The Replicas immediately whirled around and spotted him.

"Hostile Contact! He's trying to flank!"

One of them shouted before they both simultaneously opened fire. The roar of the shotgun was loud, immensely so. Just from the sound alone, John could judge that its caliber and raw power was far, far greater than any shotgun he had seen to date. And judging by how it and the rifle ripped through the wraith's armor where had been just milliseconds ago, he really didn't want to be on the wrong end of it.

John rolled off the tank and came up firing. He fired several three-round bursts at the Replicas, who were now strafing sideways and firing at him as well. The first two bursts missed as they both dived away. The return fire didn't, however, as bullet rounds pinged off his shields, but they held out well enough and were being drained slowly.

And then John was hit by a massive punch that forced him backpedal as the other Replica pumped the shotgun and fired a shot right at the centre of his shield. A major portion of the shield went down with that single blast.

Prioritize targets first.

John thought to himself…he was doing this wrongly. He was out in the open with no cover in sight. Focusing on the Replica with the shotgun, he leaded slightly with the sight, and opened fire again. The replica reacted – but only enough to get out of the way of one of the bullets. It screamed in pain and went down as the two bullets penetrated its head, the shotgun clattering to the ground.

"Man down, Flank him!"

The remaining Replica shouted out. It was at this point of time that the motion sensor lit up, indicating another incoming contact from behind him. John cursed. What was happening to him? Why had he left his flank uncovered and vulnerable?

He fired another two bursts, catching the Replica in the torso and forcing him to stagger a bit as the armor caught it. The next nine rounds lodged themselves firmly inside the Replica's head, killing him instantly – but not before bringing his shields down to almost none. It was then that a course of pain shot through his shoulder as a HV spike hit his shields, bouncing off and draining them completely. He dived to his left, while several more spikes whizzed by the air where he had just been. He turned around mid-air as the gun moved to follow him. Raising the rifle, he squeezed the trigger and didn't stop firing at the Replica. The bullet rounds hit the replica right in the chest, but it didn't waver one bit as it continued to trace and fire at him. His shields managed to recharge a bit just as a spike struck his right leg, absorbing the impact but yet twisting it from the force. The next one went right between his feet, while he was just able to raise his left leg enough that it just scraped by his calf.

His own bullets, by now, had caused the Replica to stagger and the gun went wild, and he had gotten a headshot on it. Blood splattered from the exit wounds at the back of the Replica's head, but it continued to fire, recovering from the stagger and swinging the gun back to face John. By this time he had already landed onto the floor and was just two feet away from the Replica. With blinding speed, John recovered, got up and kicked at the Replica's hand just as it swung the rifle around. The HV Penetrator scattered as the hand holding it broke. John's hand swung out to punch the replica with blinding speed – only to hit air as the Replica ducked and round-housed kicked John right in the stomach. With the shields still not recharged, John felt the force of the blow and grunted in pain as it hit his still tender injuries. The kick was hard, with strength. However, John replied back in kind and brought the butt of the battle rifle to smash the replica in the face.

He failed, however, when the Replica reacted with just as much speed and leaned to the side, just barely missing the rifle. However, it was at this time that John had regained his balance, allowing him to lash out against with his feet, this time doing a straight-up kick at the Replica's chin. The Replica saw it coming, but was apparently too injured to move quickly as its response suddenly slowed – probably from blood loss. This time he made contact, however, which was followed immediately by the satisfying snap of the Replica's neck breaking. The lifeless body then slumped to the ground, leaving a heavily panting John as the last thing standing in the room.

Three replicas. Just three of them had fought him, with only one coming into hand-to-hand combat, yet this had probably been one of the hardest fights in his life. How many dozens of grunts had he torn apart by his own hands, not to mention the countless elites he'd have to battle hand-to-hand and come out victor…yet, he had fought only three of these on his own, and despite having won, it felt like he was more lucky than anything else, having caught the jump on them and then also critically injuring them first. The last replica had been crippled by the bullet wounds he had taken – having injuries far worse than the elite he had fought on the Ascendant Justice, where he had nearly died in a similarly pitched battle with a single elite commander. Yet, these were just basic grunts. If he went into a similar battle with the heavy armored replicas, John had no disillusions on who would win that battle.

Still, he considered the situation. It was quiet obvious his battle rifle wasn't enough anymore. It barely penetrated through their armor, and anything short of a headshot didn't even hurt them. Looking around, he saw the HV Penetrator lying on the floor nearby. Picking it up, John gawked as he felt how heavy it was for its size. He studied it from end to end and then removed the ammo clip. It was then he realized that most of the weight was coming from its ammo. Each spike probably weighed around a kilo each, with a total of twenty-five spikes per clip. He glanced at the extra ammo the Replica was carrying, and realized just how lucky he was. The replica had to have been carrying at least seventy five kilos of weight in ammunition alone…and yet his speed had been insanely fast.

Augmentation or not, this weapon was not ideal if he was going to be concentrated on moving fast – the weight would only serve to slow him down. Moving back to the other Replica, he picked up the rifle there and studied it. It was long and quite slim, with the ammo barrels being exactly that – two small, cylindrical barrels that were attached either side to a common mechanism that loaded the rounds straight into the rifle's barrel. It was an efficient design, and kept the entire frame light and slim. He put away his own battle rifle and slung this one around his shoulder, taking as much ammo off the Replica as he could.

He then turned to the last Replica, the one with the shotgun. A small pool of blood had already begun to form around its head, somewhat indicative of the wounds that he had inflicted onto it. Walking over to it, he kneeled down next to it, taking a brief glance at the shield indicator in his HUD as it began to recharge.

That glance nearly cost him his life. He was about to reach for the shotgun and pick it up, when, suddenly, the Replica's arm moved at an unimaginable speed, raising the shotgun and pointing at directly at John's chest. Its visor was completely cracked from the bullets that had penetrated it, and for a brief moment, John could see cold, emotionless eyes as it stared right up at him. For that brief moment, another pair of eyes stared back at it, from inside John's own head. He recognized instantly as Death's, much as it had earlier in the lift.

And then, the Replica fired at John's chest, point blank.

The blast was completely and totally deafening at that range – much more so than any USNC shotgun, and the force completely drained his shields, and then hit his armor so hard that for several seconds, John couldn't breathe as the sheer energy drove his half-ton armor backwards and onto his haunches.

Combat reflexes kicked in, and a foot smashed out, making contact with the Replica's head and crushing it. The replica immediately went limp, now obviously dead. Struggling for breath, John sat back, leaning on his arms as he checked the damage report coming into his HUD. He had already taken significant damage to the armor when Alma had hit him earlier…but now the shotgun blast had only worsened it. His right lung had come very close to collapsing from the sheer intensity of the single blast.

What was more amazing, and shocking was that he obviously hadn't expected that at all.

But then, when you kill your enemies, you normally expect them to stay dead, rather than just playing it. It was a mistake he could no longer afford to make. These Replicas were tricky bastards, and smart ones too. He would have to make sure to take special measures to ensure they were dead, next time around. However, he really wasn't sure how much was enough – they were almost as bad as the flood – who were notoriously tough to kill.

Getting up, he took the shotgun and emptied the replica's ammo pouch. The shotgun was hefty and gave him a feeling of power that he didn't get from most other weapons. Seeing it's effects from the wrong end sort of re-enforced that feeling, perhaps. Either way, he pumped the barrel and ejected the spent cartridge, reloading the weapons and remaining shells. John shook his head and moved towards the door where the Replicas had come from. Something told him this was going to be a long, long detour.

****

The room beyond was similar to the other lab the Replicas had barricaded, except this time it seemed…different. Something had clearly been here, upturning tables to the left and right. The panel controlling the stasis field in the center had been smashed, as if someone had jumped onto or off from the panel. The silvery sphere lay at the center of the all the consoles, no longer held up by the anti-grav field that held the sphere in the other room. The lights were all out as well, save two on the far side of the room near the other door.

John withdrew the scope, and then cautiously creeped into the room, keeping half an eye on his motion sensor while the other scanning the room through whatever working infrared sensors in his helmet and HUD. It appeared to be clear, for the most part. However, John had learned the hard way that such silences ever lasted for long. Keeping an eye out, he quickly approached the center of the room, taking cover where necessary. There was something here…yet John couldn't quite pin it down. None of the scanners showed him anything, and there wasn't anything hiding behind the tables or cover either. Whoever had been here had either vacated the premises, or had been killed. The lack of blood ruled out the latter possibility – as did the lack of burn or bullet marks. However, the former wasn't very plausible as well – the Replicas in the previous room had already radioed his presence in. There should have been more Replicas on the way here, not less, and certainly not moving away.

There was something else to this…

Ambush? John thought to himself, quickly taking a look around and searching for possible ambush points. He was at the center of the room now, the center circle of consoles between him and the door on the far side. Crouching low, he kept the shotgun at standby, pointed at the door in case it opened and revealed someone. On either side of the main door, in the corners of the lab were two smaller rooms that had a slightly different door design. These were smaller, meant perhaps for engineers or the like. However, they were mostly clear, as the interior was visible through a transparent glass.

Slightly satisfied that the room was clear, John rounded the table, keeping a sharp eye out. A table had been overturned and placed on it's side here; and someone had clearly taken cover in it. John was about to move past, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was on the floor, lodged between the table and the consoles and barely visible. He couldn't make out the shape properly, save for the fact that a small green light was slowly blinking on it. John came to a stop and turned around, taking a step forwards to get a closer look.

Click.

The light suddenly changed color to red, and John could hear it as whatever it was suddenly triggered. Time seemed to slow as he watched the object jump up into the air and come right up to chest level. It was at that point of time that he got a clear look at the object. It was disc-like, yet significantly thick. On the sides and top he could see the tell-tale signs of high-explosive satchels and warning signs.

Oh shi-

John didn't even have time to finish the thought, or to react in any appropriate manner other than to bring his left arm up to shield his visor. The proximity mine then lit up and exploded into a massive ball of flame. The heat and fragments hit him with full force, draining his shields completely and coming close to roasting him alive. The shockwave was immediately after and lifted the half-ton MJNOLNIR armor up and then skidded to a half several feet away.

The world blacked out in pain for several seconds as John was left on his back. And then his senses slowly began to recover, as did his HUD, which flickered on and off due to the stray heat. However, the armor was tough, and had withstood heat several degrees higher than what he had just experienced.

But that's when your at your peak John thought, groaning internally as his vision slowly began to sharpen. He wiggled his toes and fingers, checking to see if everything was intact. The shotgun was still in his right arm, shockingly still intact despite the ordeal it had just gone through. The smell of smoke and burning metal filled his helmet as the explosion from the mine obviously ignited something flammable.

His vision finally cleared out enough that he could focus on his surroundings…or in this case, straight at the ceiling.

And this was when he saw it.

Had it not been for the fact that John had been trained to make out the optical camouflage that some of the Elites normally wore, he probably would have missed it…and it probably would have been a very fatal mistake. A form was present on the ceiling…a human form…yet, it seemed so incredibly inhuman that John would have probably mistaken it for a new covenant race.

However, in this case it probably wasn't. The form had no weapons, and seemed to have some strange device attached onto its back. The mask it wore was stranger, far different from the ones that the other Replicas wore. It looked back at him through it, its eyes a pair of glowing blue beacons in the darkness.

Lightning suddenly flashed across the ceiling from the device on its back, and the camouflage shimmered as the forms suddenly let go, giving into gravity and dropping right towards him, arms outstretched. John reacted first however, raising up the shotgun and simply opening fire. That single action nearly caused his hand to sprain as a the cannon roared to life, deafening him in the process. The flash of the muzzle blast was enough to illuminate the ghostly shape as it descended downwards.

Another blast of electricity streaked outwards from the suit as the Shotgun blast met it. The Replica's armor absorbed the hit completely, and the body veered out of course and collapsed to the side. John rolled to the side, pumping the shotgun as he did. He came up less than a second later, shotgun at the ready. He pointed it at the form as it staggered and rolled to the side. John was about to fire at it when his Motion sensor came alive, and alerted him to a fast-approaching object from the side. Before he could react, the silhouette of a foot came out of nowhere, moving much akin to a blur. It reached out and kicked the shotgun upwards just as John pulled the trigger.

He lost the grip on the shotgun as another blast roared out from the barrel, forcing downwards and out of his hands. It clattered to the ground with a loud clang as John instinctively did a back-flip with all his strength, somersaulting the half-ton armor up into the air and barely missing the other kick that plowed through the air where his midsection had been less than a second ago.

It was at this point of time that the fire suppression systems came online. The sprinklers in the ceiling activated, raining water all over the room just as John landed on his feet, some five or so feet away from where he had been standing just a second ago. He spread his legs to keep his balance, and surveyed the foes that now stalked him. John could see the silhouette of one of the Replicas, clearly outlined by the drops of water that now covered its armor. The other Replica slowly began to rise from the floor, and John noted the fact that the water at it's feet was tainted with blood.

And then, the Camouflaged Replica's armor flashed with lightning once more as several arcs made their way across the room and through the water, either to strike the wall, ceiling or a random droplet of water here or there. The camouflage then went off, revealing the Replica's dark suit and armor, along with the mask. Behind it, another flash of lightning came up as yet one more Replica dropped down from the ceiling and onto the floor, joining the other two.

The entire room seemed to tense as both parties simply looked at the other, the water raining down endlessly. John checked the HUD and noticed that the shield was slowly starting to recharge…good, he was going to need it from the looks of things. None of the Replicas were armed, which also worked to his advantage. John tensed, suddenly realizing that he wasn't armed either. Looking down, he saw that his rifle was on the floor right behind the Replicas, one of whom noticed him looking, and kicked it further away.

Each of the Replicas then tensed, bringing their arms up and getting ready to fight. They fanned out in different directions; the two uninjured ones moving to flank John on either side, while the injured one moved towards him menacingly. He could see the wound was still mostly fresh, and the Replica left behind a large trail of blood. John quickly weighed the odds here; tensing and bringing his arms up as well. The next few moments seem to slow; and stretch out as John's reflexes caught up to the situation.

Hand-to-hand, SPARTANS were more than a match for any soldier short of a Hunter or Brute. He wasn't as strong as an Elite, but made up for it with toughness and agility. However, these weren't Elites, nor were they Brutes for that matter. John had no illusions - these three individuals that were now circling him could probably take on a Hunter unarmed and win. In this scenario, however, the odds were fairly even...except for one thing.

As John brought his fists up, he had one thought in his mind, one that had stayed with him since his childhood…the years of intensive training, the covenant invasion…all of it.

I always win

Be it through determination, strength or luck alone, John would win this. There was no other outcome. There had to be no other outcome, for not only his sake, but for all those that were depending on him now.

And then the moment passed, and the Replicas charged. They leaped through the air all at once, lashing out at John with either feet, arms or fists. John reacted instantly, battle-hardened reflexes keeping up as he leapt a full three feet straight upwards, tucking his legs in to avoid the sweeping kick from the Replica on the right. The one to his left had done a flying kick to his mid-section, which John managed to block by twisting mid air and grabbing onto the leg. As he came down, he twisted again with full force with the intent of smashing the Replica against the middle one. However, the middle one moved at a blur; smashing into John with the full force of it's body. The force behind the leap was enough to push him off-balance and made him stagger backwards.

The replicas took their chance and the one to the right punched him square in the chest, his hand a blur of movement that John could simply not stop in time. The middle one recovered from the crash and rolled to the side, getting up and into a fighting stance almost immediately. John quickly lashed out at the Replica to the right with a kick to the shins and a punch towards the face. The first blow the Replica was unable to avoid, and John could hear the satisfying crunch of the bone breaking. But with a blur of movement, John's punch to the face missed almost completely…and was returned as yet another blur moved towards his visor from the left.

His shields drained drastically as they struggled to absorb the blow of that punch, and John could see in the form of the hairline crack that they had failed at absorbing the entirety of the blow.

The Replica to the right had only been slowed down, however, and got up on it's broken knee, ready to attack him again. At the same time as the left Replica, the middle one had launched yet another attack, this time attempting to sweep John's legs out from underneath him using a roundhouse kick.

However, John was prepared for it – and even as he saw the visor crack and deftly blocked another blow with his left arm, he grabbed onto the leg with his right arm and then heaved, lifting the entire Replica with a painful grunt. He continued with the Replica's swing, using his energy against him and swinging the body around like a giant club to hit the Replica on the right as it attempted to attack him from the side again. Both of them went reeling,

This came at a price, though. He had left his left side vulnerable, and hadn't been able to catch the Replica's kick in time, before it made contact with his mid-section and shattered ribs. There was no shield to stop the kick, nothing to dull the sharp burst of pain that coursed through his body and mind. John gritted his teeth as the water began to run over his helmet and visor…he could almost smell it now, seeping through the crack in the helmet.

His first reaction was to grab the leg that was planted in his mid section, and then with all his force, throw it aside. It would have worked…had it not been for the fact that the Replica was almost as strong as he was, and having seen what John did to its companions, was prepared for such a tactic.

The Replica used the energy of John's throw to get its other foot off the ground and twist in mid-air, bringing about its other foot and leg to kick out at his helmet. John saw it coming, though, and managed to move his head back just enough for it to miss. That was until it brought the hell back and smashed it right into the visor.

The Visor was graded to survive significant impacts and to be bullet proof, which meant it managed to hold up against the blow pretty well. However, it had taken a massive beating till now, and wasn't as strong…which meant it did the only thing it could: it cracked, blocking off his vision significantly.

The blow was enough to floor John as well, and he fell down onto his back. The world seemed to slow again as he dropped down and looked onto the ceiling. He couldn't loose.

Not here. Not Now.

John struggled to get up, to move – to do anything. As he struggled, though, one of the Replicas placed a firm boot right on his chest, keeping him down. John attempted to make out which one it was through the cracked visor, but couldn't. Rather, he went by feel alone, and grabbed the leg with both hands. He tried pushing it off with full force…and then found to his surprise that the foot actually moved easily. John quickly rolled to the side and was about to come to his feet when he realized what they had done.

They had waited for him to come up before striking him down again, as was witnessed by the fact that another kick moved at a blur. He tried to stop and catch it, and managed to succeed, holding the foot not 2 inches from his helmet. But before he could react, another leg came out of nowhere hit his chest plate.

The pain...it was overwhelming as it coursed through his body and mind; overloading the constant amount of morphine that was being injected into his bloodstream by now…and it soon escalated as another kick came out and hit him straight in the abdomen, smashing the broken ribs even further into his internal organs and forcing him onto his knees.

Yet, still, he remained persistent, struggling to come up to his feet, forever repeating in his mind the same four words. Not here…not now. John's vision began to fade…either due to blood loss, or due to the sheer number of injuries he had taken. And then yet another blow came out, this time it knocked him flat onto his back.

Then John's HUD started to flicker…as did all his electronics. A short burst of static came over his radio, and he could notice out of the corner of his eye that the lights began to flicker as well. All thoughts of what he needed to do, of how he needed to persevere faded from his mind as they reeled back in shock, horror and the truth of his situation. He began to slip into unconsciousness, the vision darkening around the edges and slowly making his way inwards.

He heard it first before he saw it. The soft giggle as it made its way through the air, passing not just through his filters, but through his mind and soul itself. It was then followed by yet another burst of static that sent shivers up and down his spine. Even through the cracks in the visor, John could see her face almost perfectly as she stared back at him, standing up on the ceiling. She giggled and laughed once more…before disappearing into a pile of ashes that slowly drifted to the ground.

The last thing John heard were the sound of his own screams before the darkness finally overwhelmed him.
*****


The world as he knew it was no longer existed to John; for he was longer conscious to it, no longer caring. He floated in the darkness, welcoming its warm embrace, the safety that it offered. There was nothing here but him, and the freedom that came with ignorance…the joy that came with bliss. Floating in the darkness, he remembered nothing of the past or the events that had brought him here. Gone were the memories of the little girl that had tormented him till now, the truths revealed to him by the flood, the haunting eyes of death, which seemed to have kept their sight on him for so long.

No…this was his space, and his alone. It was the very core of his being, his very essence. There was peace here, because John did not need to think of the unpleasant memories, the horrible tasks he had had to perform till now. The only thought that filled his mind, body and soul at that moment was that he was free. He was finally free…

You were never free.

A voice boomed out in the darkness, shattering the illusion, shattering the silence. John watched in distress, as suddenly, the darkness suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a bright light. It grew brighter and brighter, and filled his mind, burning through to his soul, as it were. Memories flooded his consciousness as he tried to recognize the voice…it was so familiar…so warm. John had known the voice before…so long before. John remembered…it had given him warmth in some ways, and had rescued him more times that he could have recollected…but yet…the memory of who it exactly was stayed beyond his edges, as if being restrained by some unknown factor. Other memories soon overcame that one though, as John suddenly came to the recollection of how he had gotten to be here, the events that had transpired…the horrors he had just witnessed.

The voice spoke again – but this time in a harsh whisper.

None of us were ever free…causality beckons, John…it beckons to you now, as it does to us all…

Beckons me to do what?

John asked, in reply. There was too much going on, too many questions left unanswered. Annoyance filled his mind, and suddenly the world around him changed to fit it; the light began to change and shift in patterns of red and black as he continued to float freely. Looking down, John realized he now had a form, a body and hands. But he was not in the armor that had been wearing till now. It felt somewhat uncomfortable to suddenly just feel his body and skin without it – for in a sense, that armor had grown to be a second skin of sorts.

His attention was caught by something else suddenly. It was at the edge of his hearing – a low, sad tune that seemed to play constantly in the environment around him. John initially didn't recognize the instruments being used, or the tune for that matter…all he knew was that it was beautiful, and it seemed to be coming from everywhere. The tune slowly changed, shifted to match his mind and mood, as did the colors around him. Was this…was this the sound that the Gravemind had mentioned earlier? The music of the soul; the symphony of life, the orchestra of eternity – was this how it sounded to the other being? And if this was just John's own soul…what kind of mighty opera were the forerunners witness to?

Then the voice spoke again.

The most important questions that most of us never dare to ask is not what causality has in store for us…

What was John feeling here? Where was he…and what was the right question? If it was not what he was supposed to do…then perhaps..

Why?

John asked the voice. The music rose in pitch and intensity to match his sudden curiosity, and the world around him shifted in it's color patterns as well. The voice did not respond immediately, however, and John was left floating, wondering about what had happened to him…was he dead? Had Alma finally managed to catch up to and defeat him, despite what Grave Mind had said?

His thoughts were interrupted, as the voice replied. The tone was low…calm and gentle. There was a warmth behind the voice that seemed to so familiar…yet so distant.

There are many things in life one must question...and then, there are things that one must not. One of these questions is something you have been asking yourself for most of your dangerous journey, as we did during ours, as he did during his. It is simply the question of why you are doing what you are doing...for your own sake, I beg...please, whatever happens, do not find that answer, lest you damn us all. Now go, John, and finish your purpose...and save your race.

A giant face appeared in the void above him, one of a woman. The memory that had been held back for so long was suddenly released, and it came back to him. John marveled at it for a second as he whispered the name of the woman that had not just looked after him, but the rest of his SPARTANS as well. From childhood to now, she had been there for them…always. At least…till she had disappeared what had been an eternity ago.

Dr. Halsey…

With that, the face faded away into fine mist that then disappeared into the background…and then into nothingness, leaving John drifting all alone. The music in the background slowly started to die out, as did the lights. It left John with one, last parting sentence.


Our songs still play on...and they shall do so forever. We're waiting for you, John…everyone is waiting and counting on you…don't let us down.

And then, suddenly, he began to fall as gravity seemed to return to him.

***

John 117 looked up into the dark ceiling above him, and could feel wetness on his nose and face. A moment later, he was rather fortunate enough to realize it was, in fact, just the water that had managed to seep through the cracks in his visor.

What…what did I just see? John asked himself; unsure whether what he had just seen, felt and heard had been just a dream, or whether it had been very real. Dr. Halsey…John thought back to when he had last seen her…before she had taken the ONI ship and Kelly, and then disappeared.

John closed his eyes, ignoring his surroundings for a moment as he continued to think about this new mystery. Had Death claimed Halsey and Kelly? Or was there something else at work here?

Their songs…they still play on… John thought, realizing that what Halsey had told him was probably a clue…one that Gravemind had provided him as well.

Had the doctor figured out the purpose of the crystal? Had she found some way to use it, in essence, making her soul immortal and transcending the body, perhaps? The questions continued to rack John's brain as he finally opened his eyes. Then he remembered what Halsey had said about asking questions, and the types of questions did ask. What deep, dark secret had Halsey found, that seemed to have condemned her? What secret would John find that would condemn him and everyone else?

There was only one way to find out…but John was torn. Should he heel the warning given by the Doctor? Or should he continue with this sudden and strange new quest, this new desire for knowledge?

No.

John suppressed his curiosity. He already knew why he was doing this…he was doing it for Earth, for humanity. He had lives to save, and save them at all costs. But then…what about death?

The Relic. John thought to himself. The relic that Gravemind had mentioned…if it was indeed as valuable as thought…

His HUD slowly came online, and John got up after what felt like ages. There was absolutely no motion on his sensors, and a dead calm was present throughout the room – only interrupted by the occasional dripping of water from the fire extinguishers. Alma was not here, and neither were the Replicas, surprisingly. He surveyed the damage and the room. The most immediate, of course, was the crack in his helmet, which was blocking a significant of his vision. Though the cracks, he noticed that there was a significant change in the room…

Reaching up, John unfastened the helmet, which came loose with a loud hiss. He held it up in his hand, inspecting the damage. As he suspected, it was far, far worse from the outside – with a severe dent in the glass as well. However, the most shocking thing was not the condition of the helmet, but what was on it. As John lowered the helmet and looked around, and got the shock of his life.

There was blood everywhere. On the walls, the ceilings, all across the floor, on him – it was everywhere,. and the fact that the water now forced it to flow all over the room did not help one bit. Around him were three charred skeletons, all of which were still smoking to a significant degree. The room was in a complete mess – partially from the explosion, and partially from the resulting fight. Deciding not to hang around in the open and exposed, John moved towards one of the corner rooms, locking the door behind him as it closed. Sitting down on the ground, he slowly studied the helmet and the crack. He couldn't afford to go out now – at least, not like this. The helmet was completely cracked, which meant that he had limited visibility with it on. However, with it off his shield system was incomplete, leaving him vulnerable to the next time Alma came to him – or the next time he went up against Replica forces. Sighing, he looked around for any tools he could use to possibly help him repair the glass, or perhaps remove the cracked pieces, at least. It would mean he had incomplete protection, but it was still better than none.

However, after a minute of searching, he found a solution to his problem; or rather, the solution found him. It came in the form of a small cry of alarm as John was rummaging through some of the small boxes on the table, and then moving onto one of the small cabinets to the side. The room was somewhat small, and was intended primarily as a storage facility with cabinets – a rarity considering the Covenant usually used the large purple containers instead.

He was opening the cabinets when one of them seemed stuck. Forcing it open, John was somewhat alarmed and surprised when a small creature jumped out screaming at him and then floated past him towards the door. John instantly recognized the gas-like bladders on its back, the amorphous shape and the many tentacles on the creature. This was one of the covenant's engineer sub-races, and not exactly a threat. He watched as it attempted to override the lock, but failed. Looking back at the locker, John noticed it was in a significant mess, indicating the critter must have been trapped in here for a long time. He lowered the shotgun, though, and didn't move as the engineer turned back and seemed to study him with unwavering eyes, and a focus that seemed creepy, in a sense.

How did you survive Alma? John thought, unsure how to act or respond to it. The last time he had encountered these creatures, Cortona had managed to communicate with it, and then get it to repair his armor. He knew from experience that these creatures were the only non-combat race amongst the Covenant, and preferred to examine and repair equipment

Perhaps this was the answer to his current problems?

Looking down, John slowly and carefully placed the cracked helmet on the nearby table, and then took a step away from it. He then looked at the engineer and pointed at the helmet. The engineer didn't say a thing and moved forward slowly as it unsure what to do with this new toy. Then as it focused on the helmet, it seemed to loose all sight or care that John was there. The ends of the tentacle split into what seemed like a million, smaller (nearly microscopic) Cilia that suddenly seemed to take apart the shattered visor with ease – along with the rest of the helmet as well. The creature's concentration was trance-like, in a sense, and John watched it a bit tepidly as, not seconds later, it drifted away from the helmet, leaving it nearly brand new, save for a few scratch marks that couldn't be removed.

He raised an eyebrow as the Engineer now turned to him and focused its eyes on his armor. John didn't stop it as it slowly approached, and instead de-activated the shield. The creature's tentacles once again split into the cilia, and it began to work on his armor. He could feel a tingling sensation on his chest, and winced in pain as the engineer forced the severely mangled armor out of his chest and broken ribs. John watched in fascination as the engineer managed to do this with ease, lifting up pieces of the half-ton MJNOLNIR armor as if it was paper, and then splitting it up into smaller pieces before re-arranging them. It was smart and careful enough that it didn't spill any of the liquid gel that was present in between the layers of the armor; instead sealing it carefully and even repairing leaks between sections.

John watched all of this somewhat curiously – the last time the engineer had worked on his armor, it had been on the damaged shield generator on his back, and he hadn't had the opportunity to see much there. But now, as he stood absolutely still, he kept one eye on the engineer and the other out the glass window to keep a sharp eye out for hostiles.

Oddly, there were no replicas around, despite the explosion and the loss of contact with the ones that had been killed just now. Had Alma killed off the nearby ones? It could certainly be possible, and plausible, but John had no way to be sure.

After around two minutes, the engineer was finished as it placed back the breast plate on John's chest and redid the seals surrounding it. Although still significantly dented, it was in much better shape than before, and he could breathe properly this time around. With that, the engineer chattered and began to float about aimlessly. It made a curious grab towards the shotgun, but John moved it away and slung it over his shoulder.

"Thanks." John said as he reached for the helmet and put it on. Whether the engineer understood him or not didn't matter – it had done its task, and now John had to do his. It snapped on, and the systems check came online. He got a green light from most of the systems; and the HUD came online.

After a second, the pre-checks completed, and John recalibrated his systems. The radio receiver immediately became active, though, and John cursed as he heard Replica voices come through.

"Command be advised that we have lost contact with the Perseus Soldiers. Should we move ahead and check the vicinity?"

"Negative Bravo 1. Maintain your position and stay alert. We believe the target might attempt to breach your position and get to the hostages."

"Roger that Command, we'll keep an eye out. Bravo 1 out."


John's mind immediately raced…hostages? Why would the Replicas – or death, for that matter – need hostages? Unless… a chill went down John's spine as he considered the possibilities…Death was determined to get him at any cost – which meant anyone was fair game. Could it have pulled people that John knew, and then forced them into this scenario, in an attempt to get to him?

John was now faced with a somewhat difficult situation. On one hand, the entire world and his friends as he knew them were being held hostage by Gravemind, who simply demanded that John help him die, else follow through and consume everything. On the other…it was possible that Death itself was now holding the same people hostage…with the possibility of them all dying.

I hate lose-lose situations. John thought as he considered the scenario. It was a choice between the lesser of two evils, in a sense…stick with dying…or suffers a fate worse than death. Either which way one looked at it, humanity lost…unless…

John looked at the engineer, and then at the door. Checking his weapons, he nodded to himself, reminding himself why he was here, and what he had gone through till now. He always won – and this would be no exception.

Keying the lock, John opened the door and stepped out, shotgun at the ready. The engineer floated behind him, but John really didn't care much for it anymore. He had a task to perform, and help or not, he couldn't afford to be slowed down right now. Moving back to the skeletons, John checked around them for any ammunition or grenades, finding none he instead moved to the near where the exit was. A small storage container was present here, in a similar style to the lager ones, except that it was only waist high. Going down on one knee, John opened it to expose a variety of Covenant plasma weapons…and several grenades.

"Bingo." He mouthed to himself, taking as many as he could hold and adding to the number that was on his belt now. If he was going to have any chance of doing this, he was going to need as many high explosives as possible.

With that, he got up and approached the exit. There were no walls next to it where he could hide – the entire area was open. So rather than go in unprepared, he slung the shotgun and took out the rifle – he was going to need range here, not firepower. He held the rifle in one hand, and then took a grenade in the other.

Taking a step forwards, he entered into the range of the doors, which opened immediately. Correspondingly, the words "Hostile Contact!" rang out over his radio as well as echoing in front of him. His mind immediately perceived the situation beyond. The room wasn't very large – at least, near the entrance. The entire room was circular, widening out from the door he was standing at, and then narrowing down into what seemed like a service lift at the end. To either side of the room was a door leading elsewhere.

The room was largely empty, save for this, at least, this and a grand statue that adorned the center, and stretched from the floor to the ceiling. It was one of the Prophet of truth; seated in his ornate chair and with hands outstretched, as if praying to some deity above. A pair of ramps curved to either side of the statue and led up to a floor that was on a somewhat higher level. Scattered around were several containers that had been stacked or otherwise upturned, and behind which no less than a dozen Replicas took cover, weapons out and ready to fire. However, off to one side, John noticed that there was not one but two power armored Replicas – one to either side of the room. They stood out in the open, obviously intent on taking damage away from the Replicas under cover. The good news was that one was armed with just a shotgun, while the other a HV Penetrator. The Replicas were split up behind four containers. Two containers were nearby the door on the lower level, while the other two were at the top of the ramps and to either side of the statue.

The Replicas all held varying type of weapons…all of which were now trained at him and the Engineer form.

Suddenly, a bright blue beam originated from the crown of the statue; where John saw that one of the Replicas had hidden behind it. The beam struck out and missed his shield by millimeters…and then hit the engineer that was behind him. John watched in horror as it suddenly let out a sharp, hi-pitched cry before it vaporized into a fine, black mist, leaving behind nothing but a few charred bones.

He cursed and armed the grenade, throwing it out towards before jumping and taking a step back from the door. Shotgun shells, different calibers of bullets and HV spikes streaked out and filled the space where he had been less than a second ago. The doors closed immediately after, and John could hear the ping of bullets bouncing off. The explosion of the grenade rang out a second later, but John already knew it had been wasted – it had flown wild due to the way he had thrown it, and more than likely hit nothing. It died down a second later.

"Careful, he might be trying to flank. Keep the hostages secure!" he heard over the radio. Cursing, John realized that this wasn't good – wasn't good at all. He had around 15 Replicas in the room beyond; with at least two of them being heavy armored…and then there was that new weapon. He glanced at the charred remains of the engineer. Whatever had happened had killed it near-instantly, and in a fashion far deadlier than any plasma weapon. It couldn't have been plasma-based, simply because the bones had been left intact while the flesh had been charred off. No…there was no way to actually get in short of breaking through with a tank.

A Tank… John thought, suddenly…he looked back at the entrance and exits and wondered…how had the Covenant managed to get two wraiths into such an internal storage facility? Considering the size of the doors and corridors, it wouldn't have been possible to fit it in there at all…unless, there was another route available.

Doubling back, John jogged towards the entrance he had come from, and into the cargo bay where he had initially fought the other Replicas, and where the Wraith tank had been. Once he entered it, however, John paused. There was something…wrong about the scene. Something had changed…and dramatically so. He couldn't pin it for a moment…and then, realized it.

The bodies – there were no dead bodies in the entire bay area. This was very; very odd considering that he had just killed three Replicas in this room just minutes ago. Either they had suddenly become alive, or...Gravemind had gotten to them.

John cursed and looked around, keeping a sharp eye on his motion sensor. The Shotgun was up instantly and he looked into the dark corners warily. Replicas were bad enough on their own…but as potential flood combat forms, they would be absolute nightmares to deal with.

The lighting was not very bright in the room, and cast a lot of dark shadows on the ceiling. Spotting a small, illuminated control panel in the corner behind the Wraith tank, John moved towards it cautiously, making sure to check the motion sensor and go around the tank with his shotgun out. Somewhat satisfied that it was clear, he turned to the console, and studied the symbols. Again, the strangeness and the familiarity struck out to him, as it had for most consoles like this. Reaching out, John watched as his hands moved instinctively over the console, activating it.

Immediately several ceiling lights came on, illuminating the whole room. He looked up to see that, as he had suspected, the ceiling had a significantly sized hole in it – and was in fact, a false one. A catwalk was present all along the sides of the hole, and seemed to end in a large door just above the one on his current level. A low humming sound of machinery and equipment coming online reached his ears, and a ray of light emerged from the blue color hole, touching the ground in the center of the room. John instantly recognized it as a gravity beam and lift.

So that's how they got the tanks in here. The lift must lead to a central storage or common exit… It was a point that John noted for later. Such a facility might have some use for later. He stepped away from the console, and headed to the center of the room. Looking up at the hollow beam, he wondered whether it would take him all the way, or just to the catwalk.

Either way…it's the only route from here. John thought to himself, before taking a step into it. After around a second, the lift's effects took hold, and he suddenly became weightless; floating up slowly to the upper catwalk. The gravity lift's effect then stopped here, and John was able to step onto a ledge that led onto the narrow catwalk. There was a control panel on the railing – which he again used to this time shut down the lift. The lights went off, and John then proceeded to make his way around the room, and to the door on the far side. Less than thirty seconds later, he was already at it. He stood against the wall, and snaked the optical scope around the door to take a look.

The doors opened to reveal a significantly different room than the one below. Where the one downstairs had been a lab, this one was more of a control facility. Around the same size as the one below, the room was split into three levels, similar to a bridge structure. The lower most level ran around the room and was square-shaped, with the upper levels rising around six inches from the one below to form something akin to a ziggurat-like structure. Consoles lined the walls on the lowest level, while at the other end; there was a glass window that showed a view of the next room and the prophet's statue.

The topmost level (and hence the smallest) in the room was around two feet above the ground, and had a ramp leading from it to the lowest levels in all four directions. The three levels between it and the bottom all had various types of consoles and controls in it, all of which were deactivated. John realized that this was probably an auxiliary bridge of sorts, should the main one somehow be incapacitated. But judging from the dust around the place, it hadn't been used for some time. There was a small door at the far end, between the wall and the window, which probably led out to a small balcony, perhaps.

He zoomed in to the window – which was as the same level as the 'crown' of the statue. Looking carefully, he was able to make out the sniper that was sitting there and keeping watch on the door below. Good. If the sniper was distracted – or even better, if the window was one-way, that meant that John had a chance to fight them from up here. He withdrew the scope and then crouched down. He slowly walked across the room, making sure to duck behind the consoles. The Replica didn't seem to see him, which was good. He quietly sneaked around the bridge and under cover, till he was finally crouched down just underneath the window. Snaking the optical wire up, John tried to angle it downwards to see where the Replicas were. He spotted them in the same positions as before, but keeping an alert stance.

John mentally ran through his options, and then came with a plan of attack. It would be risky, but right now it was practically his only option. Sighing, he shook his head and withdrew the scope. Slinging the shotgun, he took out the rifle and switched off the safety. With his other hand, he took out two grenades, and placed them on the ground next to him. John then held the rifle in both hands and counted to three before quickly jumping up and taking aim at the Replica sniper's head.

The Replica, to his credit, despite being focused on the rifle and the door below, noticed John appear out of the corner of his eye, and looked up to notice him.


"Hostile spo - EEARGH"

The Replica didn't have time to finish his sentence as John opened fire at full auto, shattering the glass completely and killing the Replica instantly. He fired one shot off in a vain attempt to hit john, but it went wide, the blue beam leaving a scorch mark on the ceiling instead. John then heard the retorts from below.

"Shit!! Sniper down – he's flanking from above!"

John didn't give them a chance to react; and instead dropped the rifle. He scooped up either grenade in his hand, and then going by memory alone, throw them out the window.

"Fuck! Incoming grenade, take cover!"

Ducking past the window, John picked up the rifle and then got up. He spotted the Replicas as they dived for cover – however, for one it was too late, as a plasma grenade had stuck right onto his chest. He screamed out in pain as the plasma burned through his armor…and then it was suddenly cut off as the grenade exploded and vaporized him instantly. The second grenade then exploded as well, but it did little or no damage. However, all this time, he didn't remain still. Raising the rifle, he opened up in three-round bursts against the replicas on the right side of the statue. The bullets impacted on their armor and drove one of them to take cover behind the statue, while the other spotted him and opened fire with a HV Penetrator.

The spikes flew upwards, some of them whizzing by just centimeters past John's helmet before burying themselves into the ceiling. But John didn't relent; he swung the rifle around and opened fire at the Replica shooting at him. Keeping the gun steady despite the recoil, John watched as the Replica took several hits and staggered a bit. He continued to fire at John, however, and forced the latter to duck when a HV spike grazed pass his head, and drained a significant percentage of his shields.

"We've got three men down! We need suppressing Fire!"

The call rang out, and almost immediately the space where John had been standing was filled with a significant amount of lead – more than enough to overload his shields easily. Breathing hard, John sat down underneath the window, quickly reloading his rifle and waiting. The fire didn't end, and his options were severely limited right now. He'd only managed to take out three Replicas out of fifteen – leaving exactly a dozen more, two of whom were the heavy power armored type.

There had to be some way to get out of this. Looking around, John finally found it in the form of an open weapons locker in the far corner of the room. It was what was inside the locker that was of particular interest to John, however. Glowing a bright green in color, was the large, familiar shape of a shoulder-mounted Covenant fuel rod gun. He had to get to it – one way or the other.

It was then that the suppressive fire suddenly stopped. Looking up, John was about to move when he heard a soft click come from outside, along with a single, loud cry:

"Die ************!"

With that, John could feel a slight shadow as a small object flew through the air above him. He didn't think, he just moved, running as fast as he could along the wall and as far away from the grenade as possible. John had made it all the way to the nearby corner of the room when the grenade exploded – fortunately it did so on the other side of the throne, which took in most of the blast. Still, the explosion was deafening enough to cause a definite ringing in his ears. Before John could get up however, he heard two more clicks. Looking back, he watched as two more grenades suddenly appeared through the window and exploded in mid-air.

The shockwave hit him less than a half a second later, and John was completely deafened by the explosion. He didn't hear what the Replicas said next, but rather let instinct guide him. Recovering from the shockwave, he ignored the next three grenades that appeared through the window, and instead got onto his knees, before launching himself for a straight run to the locker. Even as the shockwave hit, John compensated by leaning into it and just kept on running. By this time he could hear nothing but the loud ringing. Although his filters had kicked in to stop the sound, it still reverberated through his helmet and was deafening from the raw power alone.

Grabbing the Fuel Rod gun, John did a quick check before placing it on his shoulders and looking back.

There was nothing left intact in the control room – every display, every control panel had been damaged to some extent by the sheer number of grenades that had been thrown into the area just seconds ago. The only remotely intact place was in the side that John was standing – and that was only because the window didn't extent all the way in this direction.

John could still only hear the ringing when he turned back and headed to the window, this time determined to do some damage. He saw the radio channels open and close on his HUD, but couldn't hear what the Replicas were saying – not that he cared anyway. He didn't go to the window this time, though, and instead went straight to the Balcony. The door slid open into the left wall, exposing the large statue in front of him, and the Replicas below. The balcony was more of a narrow ledge with little railing than anything else. It left him somewhat exposed to incoming fire…but yet at the same time gave him a significant view of everyone below.

First priority was to neutralize the more numerous replicas – especially those behind the cover. They noticed him and shouted something – again, John didn't hear what. He didn't wait, however, and immediately took aim and squeezed the trigger. A bright green bolt exploded out from the Fuel rod cannon, and then arced through the air, leaving behind a green trail of burning plasma as it crashed into the upper encampment of Replicas to the left of the statue, vaporizing all three that had taken cover there nearly instantly. He then turned to the right and fired another blast – annihilating the lone Replica that had hidden behind the box, and the injuring the one that had been hiding behind the statue. Checking the ammo count, John realized he had just two more shots – but by this time he was taking incoming fire too.

Bullets pinged off his shields, and a HV spike whizzed by in front of the helmet. John immediately ducked and rolled across the Balcony, using the limited cover of the ledge to protect him. Spikes buried themselves in the ledge, however, and John could feel their tips protruding through the relatively thin material. Coming up, he didn't waste time, though, and opened fire at the lower left group – unfortunately they had seen his heavy weaponry and had already scattered. The blast only caught one of the Replicas, which went down. He still couldn't hear anything when he pressed the trigger for the last time and caught another two Replicas in the blast. At this point of time John threw the cannon down at one of the Replicas to the right, forcing him to duck. He used the opportunity to take a grenade in either hand, which he then threw at a Replica each. By this time, his shield was dangerously low, and the HV spikes were about to penetrate them and the armor.

One of them landed right behind two of the lower tier Replicas, and exploded before they could get a chance to move or react, killing both. That left, surprisingly, just one Replica to his right, and the two heavy armor suits to either side. Rolling across the balcony to avoid a shotgun blast, John dived back into cover as his shields died out completely by now. Fortunately, the ringing in his ears finally died down enough for him to hear as the Replica shouted into the radio.

"Fuck, he's too fast! He just went through the entire squad! We need heavy re-enforcements!"

Taking some satisfaction that most of his work was complete; John considered what to do next. He still had two of the power armored replicas to deal with – both of which would be extremely tough to take down – especially the one armed with the shotgun. He would need a separate plan to take those down, but he was unfortunately completely out of heavy weaponry or explosives.

We'll just have to do this the hard way then. John thought to himself as he unslung the shotgun and cradled it in his hands…there would have to be another way of doing this. Another plan began to form in his mind…this one far crazier than the last. The last had only worked thanks to surprise, and his heavy weaponry, not to mention incredible amounts of luck…this one would need even more luck to work…and would be extremely difficult to pull off, especially considering that he might not survive the initial stage, thanks to his injuries.

Only one way to find out…

John thought to himself. Looking around, he found the rifle he had been wielding earlier, which had been blown to the window area. It still seemed intact, though, and as he examined it, he was somewhat relieved that it worked. He held it up in one hand, while holding the shotgun in the other.

Leaning back against the wall beneath the window, John sat there for a few seconds and waited for his shields to recharge. He would have only one shot at this, and it was better if he went with all the protection he could get.

Once they recharged, John immediately got up and in one, smooth motion he dived out the window and onto the ledge. Time seemed to slow as he took in the positions of the various forces. The lone Replica had taken cover behind the statue, while the two power armored replicas were flanking him to either side. On his left was the Replica with the shotgun, while to his right was the one with the HV Penetrator.

He made the split-second decision required, and then leapt off the ledge and to the right. John twisted in mid-air, however, as military reflexes kicked in and his brain automatically sighted up both the rifle and the shotgun at the power armor on the left side, and then fired. But the Replica's instincts were just as good, and John could feel the blast of the shotgun shells as it impacted against his shields and armor. And then, he felt another Impact hit his side as a penetrator round impacted, nearly draining his shield completely. Cursing, John emptied the clip at the target completely, while at the same time crossed his arm with the shotgun to aim at the Replica he was now closing distance with. The drop had been at least 5 meters, and only 3 seconds had passed since he jumped, leaving him not one meter from the Armor Replica now.

As soon as he heard the click of the rifle's chamber going empty, he dropped it, and with blinding speed pumped the shotgun, lining it up with the power armor's head as the Half-ton MJNOLNIR armor then impacted against the Replica at 50m/s. A blast could be heard, along with an inhuman roar from the Replica as it went down. However, it certainly wasn't dead by any long shot. Even as John rolled off and onto the ground, he suppressed the sudden surge of pain in his gut, and raised the shotgun again, ejecting the next shell and then opening fire right into the Replica's head again as it tried to get up.

This time, the roar was louder as the Replica writhed once, twice and then died out. John didn't have time to think or celebrate this minor victory, however, as a shotgun blast hit him in the side, driving him onto his haunches as the other powered armor replica crouched down and opened fire at John as the latter stood over its dead companion.

Raising his own shotgun, John opened fire at the replica, throwing off its aim just enough to miss him as he dived behind one of the boxes the other Replicas had been using not seconds ago. Taking cover, John ducked and ejected the shell inside the shotgun before realizing it was empty. He was about to reload it when he spotted some in the corner of his eye…something black and metallic, which had several blue displays to one side, and the words 'Type 7 Particle Beam' in scripted onto the side.

John instantly recognized it as the sniper rifle that the other Replica had tried to use against him. It was just three feet or so outside his cover, and was clearly operational. Realizing it was his best shot right now, John waited a few seconds as the shields recharged a bit, before suddenly getting up and making a mad dash to the rifle. He crossed the three feet in a single leap, which landed him right next to the rifle. Scooping it up, his hands immediately found the trigger and the handle. It was rather different in the way it was held, and had an unusually heavy weight for its size. Still, he raised the rifle and pointed it at the powered armor Replica. Even as he did so, however, the muzzle flash from the Replica's shotgun blinded him and suddenly he felt a double echo as a shotgun blast from behind hit him at the same time as the one in front. His shields drained completely, leaving nothing. Realizing that it was in his best interest to get moving, John fired off one salvo at the replica in front of him.

The beam lanced out and made contact with the replica, which then screamed in pain, but did not go down. An odd blue flame began to rise from the Replica's body, though. The rifle clicked as the battery seemed to either switch, or recharge – John couldn't exactly be sure which – and pressing the trigger again was useless. Cursing, he rolled to the side, still in a prone position as a shotgun blast from behind destroyed a part of the ground that he had been on less than a second ago. The heavy armored Replica in front of him staggered, fortunately, and it's next shot went wild. By the time John came right side up, the rifle was ready to fire, which he did again, this time hitting the Replica in the head.

It let out a massive, inhuman roar which died out into a gargle before it lurched and fell backwards with a massive thump. But John didn't have time to react, however, as he rolled again and barely missed another shot by the last surviving Replica behind him. However, when he came up and looked back, all he could see was a foot sticking out from behind the statue, which quickly disappeared into retreating footsteps as the last Replica made an expeditious retreat.

Getting up, John looked around the room as he panted heavily, exhausted from what had just happened. He realized that – from start to finish – he had survived yet another battle, and a close encounter with Death through nothing but sheer luck alone. Had it not been for that Engineer repairing his armor…or indeed, the fuel rod gun or the sniper rifle, there was a good chance he would have been dead by now.

As he walked up the ramps, John passed by a few bodies of the Replicas. After checking to make sure they were dead, he looked at them cautiously. These foes…they were tough…just too tough. And who knew what Death was planning?

Walking up the ramp and reaching the higher level, John looked around. The center just had a circular symbol imprinted on the ground, but otherwise there was nothing to note…save for the loud banging noise coming from the right door. Looking towards it, John brought up the sniper rifle, ready to attack in case there were more Replicas.

But there was something odd…something entirely different about this. The doors weren't opening at all – despite the fact that there was someone on the other side, clearly banging on them.

John made up his mind and approached it cautiously, keeping an eye out on the main elevator and the other exit in case the one that retreated showed up with more re-enforcements. There was a console next to the door, which seemed to be lit up in red. Waving his hands over it, John manipulated the controls for a second…and then the doors suddenly unlocked, and opened. The first thing that John saw was actually the second most obvious thing in the room. It was the severely injured woman that was sitting against the wall, wearing a similar uniform the soldier had been wearing – probably from the F.E.A.R. Team. The dog-tag around the woman's neck read the words 'Jin Sun-Kwon'. She looked at him with a slightly weak smile and spoke. "About time we got some rescue…"

However, John ignored her completely as the next thing he saw was the absolute last thing he had expected on the forerunner ship. It was the clear reflection of his own armor in the visor of the equally surprised and equally shocked SPARTAN that John knew as Kelly – 087.

*****

The corridor was long, dark and almost completely bathed in blood. It was everywhere; on the floor, the walls and even the ceilings. As gruesome sight as this may have been, it was nothing compared to the still-smoldering skeletons that were littered to either side of the corridor. Many of them lay in positions indicative of great pain just before death. The blood seemed to run so deep however, that parts of the skeletons were submerged beneath it.

Despite being a shocking sight, the figure that ran through the blood and leaped over the skeletons now had no time to be shocked or in any way affected by it. As he landed, Sadhal grunted in pain as his ribs seemed to break even further. He only took note of the remains in the fact that they might have been one of Alma's victims the first time she tried coming up here. Other than that, though, they were just in his way.

But rather than move them though, Sadhal just vaulted over the bones as he reached the far intersection and then turned right. He then stopped, panting heavily from the stress of running so far, and leaning against the wall as his body protested the rough treatment it had been given thus far.

That thing…its just too persistent.

Sadhal thought to himself in between his pants. After a few seconds, his breathing came under control, and the pain subsided. Sadhal couldn't help but feel a significant amount of fear and apprehension. That creature had been chasing him all the way since the bridge, and it hadn't looked like it was giving up at all. Despite nearly emptying his entire plasma cell at it, the creature just did not give up! It seemed nearly invulnerable against any weapons he had used thus far, and no matter what he had tried, it seemed to have his scent or something similar, as it seemed to be able to follow him with no problems at all…at least, till now.

Rather than move on though, he quickly flattened himself on the wall and took a quick glance around the corner. It was still empty – good.

Did I loose it? Sadhal thought to himself, and was about to move on when he heard a loud thud coming from the corridor behind him. His heart seemed skip a beat as fear overcame him and he looked back around the corner as a second thud suddenly came from the other side of the remains. Standing at the end of the corridor, clear as day was the creature – no the monstrosity that had had been chasing him from the bridge. It looked at him with the same white eyes as it let out a roar and raised it's rocket launcher onto it's shoulders.

Sadhal could only curse and then leap away from the intersection as the rocket fired, streaking down the corridor and impacting against the wall in a fiery explosion. Flame filled the intersection for a second, and like on the bridge, Sadhal didn't have the chance to get very far from it. The shockwave from the blast hit less than a second later, lifting him off his feet and depositing him face-first onto the floor around three meters away. Courses of pain shot through Sadhal's body, while he could feel the bitter taste of blood fill his mouth. Spitting it out, he quickly came up, somewhat surprised to find that the plasma rifle in his hand had skittered some distance away.

Groaning in pain, Sadhal didn't glance or look back. He could hear the loud footsteps as the monstrosity ran across the hallway and the blood, ignoring the remains almost completely.

I need to get out of here. Sadhal thought to himself as he looked down the corridor. There was a small junction of doors at the end of it - perhaps less than fifteen meters away. If he could reach it and then lock the doors, there was a chance he could escape. Reviewing what he knew of the deck layout, the door onto his left would lead down to the auxiliary elevator and localized armory, while the ones on the center to the central cargo bay. The one to the right was what he was looking for, however, as that would lead not only to the medical bay, but to the ramps as well. The route to the armory was nearest at around seven meters distant, and was probably the most logical. However, he knew that there wasn't much in these armories that could combat a rocket launcher – especially on such a being. That and it was a dead end so it really wasn't much of an option in any case. The one to the ramps were just 12 meters away, though, so it wasn't very much further away.

Making his decision, Sadhal decided to make a run for it. However, even as his feet went into motion, he could feel it was too late. Time seemed to slow as he glanced back to both see the monstrosity landing at the intersection, and crushing the plasma rifle that lay there. Super-hot plasma leaked from it's battery, but the monstrosity either didn't feel it, or ignored the pain as it turned to face him.

Ten meters. He was just ten meters from the right door, and five from the left. Any healthy human being was capable of running this in a second – and Sadhal was more than just a human. However, he was injured – and he didn't even have more than a second.

He took another three steps. The distance was now down to eight and three meters respectively…yet, Sadhal knew he wouldn't make it as the monstrosity roared once more, before bringing the Rocket Launcher up, taking aim at him.

Another two steps, and he could hear the loud click as the monstrosity pulled the trigger. It was shortly followed by the loud explosion-like sound of the rocket activating in the chamber. Sadhal's instincts kicked in after this, and he immediately made a running leap for the floor.

The Shields flared once while the rocket's exhaust threw a blast of heat onto his back. It streaked past just above him, missing his back by inches. The missile impacted against the far door, denting and jamming it while pieces of debris filled the corridor and space just above him. His instincts kicked in again as Sadhal heard a slightly different noise come from behind him. Without questioning it, he rolled right into the left niche of the corridor…just in time to miss the monstrosity landing right next to him, and giving a massive punch to the floor where he had been less than half as second ago. The monstrosity roared in pain, raising its-now smashed hand.

Sadhal didn't stop to watch as it reformed – there was no time for that. Instead, he continued the roll and went right through the now-open doors before coming up onto his feet. The control panel for the doors was right next to him as he got up, and Sadhal hit the mechanism for locking it. The Monstrosity noticed this and got up, moving towards the doors as they shut. Before they could close, however, Sadhal watched in shock and horror as it caught the upper two edges, holding it open with all it's might. He took a step back as it stared at him with white eyes and then slowly began to push the upper two sections back into the wall.

By the prophets…wont thing this ever give up! Sadhal could only curse as he looked around the room for a means of escape. The room was a large sanctuary, filled with plants and a natural environment. This was not what he was looking for, however – more specifically, he was looking for the large door that was at the other end of all of this, nearly fifteen meters away and heading to the armory. Glancing back at the now almost open door and monstrosity, he tensed his legs and summoned up the last of his energy reserves…before starting a full-out run for the far door. He panted heavily as he did so, jumping over plants and dodging the trees on his way. When he was half-way there, he heard a loud explosion from the door behind him – one that he recognized belonging to the door control systems giving way. He quickened his pace, burning up whatever he had left of the adrenaline rush to make it towards the door in front before the monstrosity behind him caught up.

The door quickly began to come closer and closer and Sadhal realized he had to slow down – lest he bang into the door before it opened. Reaching a hand out to the doorway's edge, he used his speed and grip to make a gut-wrenching turn to the left just as he entered the armory. He slammed against the wall and was about to fall back when an arm grabbed onto the control panel and he managed to regain his balance. He didn't look through the door, but this time just concentrated on the panel; his hands moving like a blur over the symbols as he programmed the door to lock. Once he was done, he looked as the monstrosity ran across the field, knocking down trees and pushing aside everything as he thundered towards Sadhal's position.

"Come on. Come on, close already!" Sadhal muttered to himself as he watched the doors slowly moved together. The monstrosity made a running leap towards the door – its hands outstretched and intent on catching them before they closed. Time seemed to slow as the doors raced to close before it approached. Then, at the very last second the doors seemed to surge, and they shut completely. A loud bang could be heard from the other side as the creature crashed into it with full force, causing a visible dent in the door structure. It held however – and continued to hold as the monstrosity seemed to recover, and then began to ferociously bang against the door with both fists. Sadhal took a step back from it and breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe…for now at least. But he didn't have much time – soon, either the door would give or it would use the rocket launcher to force it's way in, and in both cases Sadhal really didn't stand a chance.

Definitely need weapons. Sadhal thought to himself as he turned around to look at the rest of the room. It was completely dark, with the only light source coming from the control panel near him, and another along a nearby wall. Moving towards it, Sadhal checked the controls and then manipulated it, turning on the armory's lights.

The room suddenly lit up, blinding him partially as several rows of lights came on to reveal the contents of the armory. Mostly just a large storage area, the armory would be full of several rows and columns of weapons containers, holding everything from plasma pistols to fuel rod guns and grenades. However, right now either this armory had never been stocked properly, or it had been low-prioritized, as there were only a few sparse containers scattered about near the far wall. The large purple containers were used to store most of the Covenant's supplies, and currently numbered around five in total. Making his way to them, Sadhal started opening them, starting from the one nearest to the right wall. The banging on the door remained constant, but it seemed like it would hold for now.

Looking at the first container, Sadhal reached around the side and looked for its control panel. Finding it a second later, he keyed in the standard combination, and the container's exterior panel hissed before it came lose. Grabbing it, Sadhal threw it aside to reveal a container full of medical items. He smiled to himself. Now this was a stroke of luck, to say the least! Most of the Covenant forces rarely used medical items and kits, but that didn't mean that they didn't use them at all. It was always handy to keep a few spare in case a senior commander was in need of medical attention – even if Covenant medical technology wasn't up to par with the humans.

Taking one of the kits, Sadhal sat down next to the container. He then opened it to reveal the two things he needed the most: painkillers and boosters. The painkillers were straightforward enough, but the boosters were a bit more complex in the sense that they were primarily geared to speeding up the healing process, depending on the species they were used on. Sadhal was in some luck that these kits were primarily meant for Elites. An injection device was placed next to both, and Sadhal quickly took it, filling its container with the blue substance of the painkiller first. Sadhal glanced at the door before nodding. He still had time for now.

Sadhal deactivated his shields before taking off his helmet and placing it onto the floor next to him. Then, carefully holding the needle next to his neck, he grimaced slightly as the needle penetrated the skin and then pulled the trigger. The pain immediately vanished, however, as the medicine took immediate effect. Pulling it out, Sadhal quickly refilled it with the other substance and injected the medicine into the other side of his neck. This time he didn't feel the pain at all as he pulled the trigger, and felt the substance fill his blood vessels.

The effects wouldn't take place instantly, but they would show up soon enough. Already, Sadhal could feel slightly less exhausted as the pain in his stomach and chest began to fade away. Sighing, he looked at the door again – this time the banging had stopped. Realizing that this was probably not good, Sadhal quickly closed the kit and moved on to the next container.

Opening the second container revealed several racks of Needlers. While not the weapon he would have desired, it was still better than nothing. Sadhal took one off the rack before moving to the next container.

The third container didn't hold anything better either. My luck seems to be dying out. Sadhal thought to himself as he viewed the three racks of plasma pistols. Picking up one, he frowned a bit as he realized there was no charge. Picking up one or two others revealed the same thing – none of the pistols here were charged, making them somewhat useless.

If I find whomever packed these crates, their going to die a very slow and painful death. Sadhal cursed as he moved onto the third one.

This one was a bit fuller, unlike the others. It held two Covenant carbines in it, along with two brute plasma rifles. Smiling, Sadhal dropped the Needler and picked up one of the carbines, along with two of the rifles. Slinging them onto his back, he stole a quick glance to the door – it hadn't been knocked in by the rocket launcher yet, so he took this as a good sign. But he didn't waste it, either, and instead proceeded to open the fourth container to reveal…nothing.

Once more cursing whoever had packed all of this, Sadhal moved onto the last and final container. Reaching along the side, he found the control panel and then began to open it. The panel slid off, as expected – but the weapons it held were the last things that Sadhal had expected to see – especially on a ship full of brutes.

Nested within the racks of the container were the hilts of four plasma swords. They reflected the light with a purple sheen that stood out from the colors of the container's insides. Sadhal placed the Carbine onto the floor before reaching into the container and slowly withdrawing one of the heavy sword handles. Holding it up, Sadhal activated the triggers that were built into the handle, and blue-white blade of plasma immediately came to life. The blade seemed to glow with the energy of the plasma, and Sadhal could feel the magnetic field of the sword interact with that of his shield.

Swinging it through the air, he could hear the low hum of the sword as quite literally cut through it. The sword had been one of the Elite's signature weapons to date – somewhat heavy, It was too complicated for usage by the Grunts, while the Brute's fists were too large to use them; making them ideal either for the Elites…or alternatively, even the humans. Sadhal had never seen the Demon actually use one of these swords, but knew that he was certainly capable of it.

What Sadhal knew even better, however, was the effect that these swords would have on unarmored flesh and blood. It would be more than enough to deal with the thing that was now chasing him.

Speaking of which… Sadhal looked towards the door and nodded to himself. He took off the plasma rifle and then slung the carbine on his back. The doors hadn't been breached yet – which meant that either the thing had left, or it was up to something. Wielding the plasma sword in his right hand, Sadhal moved cautiously towards the door. His mind was made up: there was nowhere else to run, nowhere else to hide. The only way out now was to fight his way out. Sadhal smiled; it was time to fight as he had been trained to since the day of his birth.

No more running.

Sadhal thought as he stepped towards the control panel for the door. However, he didn't get to think – or even react – before he heard a loud click that reverberated from the other side of the door, and echoed in the room. It was followed almost immediately after by a massive explosion from the door that forced Sadhal onto his haunches. His sword dropped onto the floor; emitting a loud humming sound as the plasma blade clattered onto the floor just a few feet away. His carbine fell to the floor next to him. As he looked up towards the flaming remains of the door, however, his blood ran cold. Standing there in the middle of the wreckage was Monstrosity – which was now staring right at him. It let out a low growl, and then slowly aimed its rocket launcher at Sadhal's direction.

Battle instincts took over as, in one smooth motion; Sadhal picked up the Carbine, brought it up, and then squeezed the trigger. It was just in time as he heard another short click and the rocket streaked out of the launcher towards him. Sadhal wasn't sure what happened next, however. Either he was more skilled than he thought, or just plain lucky as the Carbine's round also streaked across the air and met the rocket dead-on, not ten feet in front of him.

The explosion drove him back, but he had already been braced against the floor, so it didn't affect him that much. However, as the smoke cleared he found that the blast had been close enough to completely peel back the Rocket Launcher's exterior. The Monstrosity looked at it, looked at Sadhal, and then back at the Rocket Launcher. It just shook it's arm, dropping the now-useless weapon onto the ground and revealing its grossly swollen hands. What was most disturbing, however, was the fact that there were no fingers on it at all – instead in their place were small, prehensile tentacles that writhed with a will of their own. If he looked carefully enough, Sadhal could still see the stubs of where the fingers had once been. He could only theorize what happened to them; especially after the many times that the thing had crushed its hand against either the wall, or the floor.

The Sword Sadhal thought to himself, glancing to where the sword was. It was then that both beings moved simultaneously. The creature began to immediately run towards Sadhal in giant leaps and bounds as, at the same time, he rolled to one side and reached out for the Plasma sword. Less than two seconds later, he was up with the sword in one hand and in a combat stance; prepared for the creature's charge. It was still five feet away, but it covered the distance so fast, Sadhal had barely enough time to dodge to the right before the thing's fist came down where his head had been only to miss air. Using this opportunity, however, Sadhal immediately twisted mid-leap and brought the sword up to where the creature's hand was.

Superheated plasma met flesh and armor. Flesh gave way, and the sword cut cleanly through the thing's hand – cutting it off at the wrist. The plasma was so hot that it cauterized the flesh as it went through, leaving it smoking as what blood was on the outside vaporized.

The thing looked at it and roared in pain, taking a step back. However, it was slowed only for a second as it took another step back and looked at Sadhal. This time there was something behind those eyes…something different. Sadhal couldn't tell what exactly it was – all he knew was that it was bad

Sadhal went low into another combat stance. Combat training and years of fighting experience kicked in as he began to circle the Monstrosity, holding the sword at the ready and looking for an opportunity or opening in which to strike without injury. The thing just followed him, keeping a respectable distance. It had underestimated him once, and wasn't going to do again.

It was then that Sadhal noticed something strange. The stump on the creatures arm exploded in a flow of purple and red blood, which dripped onto the floor. It was that it seemed grow outwards all of a sudden. Sadhal saw this, and took a step back, unsure what was happening. The skin on the stump gave way as the arm exploded outwards, revealing several long tentacles that crawled out of the thing's arm. Sadhal just took another step back in shock, somewhat surprised at the thing's regenerative capabilities. He had seen something similar with the flood…but not to this extent. Each one of the thing's tentacles was at least a meter long, and they moved too fast to count how many were there. Suffice to say, this was very bad.

The thing seemed to have been waiting for this, however, as it suddenly leapt at Sadhal with a loud roar. It whipped out the new arm at him, and Sadhal grunted in pain as several tentacles grabbed the wrist holding the sword. He just flicked his wrist to the side, however. Sadhal managed to cut half of them before he realized what the thing had done – by moving his sword in that direction and angle, he had left his torso open to attack.

The thing came charging in, bringing the other hand up and punching Sadhal directly in the ribs; sending him flying several feet as his shields gave out and a blast of pain made itself felt over the medicine he had just taken. He kept a death grip on the sword even as he hit the wall and slid to the floor. Grunting in pain, he quickly got to his feet – just in time to duck and miss another assault from the thing as it tried to punch him once more.

It was then that he saw an opportunity to attack. With one swift angle, Sadhal pushed the sword upwards with all of his strength. But it wasn't really required – the plasma blade pushed through the flesh as if it wasn't there till it then peeked out the other side of the thing. At this point of time, Sadhal then twisted it around, creating a giant hole in the torso, while at the same time releasing a gush of blood that singed his exposed arm and hand. The creature roared in pain and then suddenly punched Sadhal again – but this time it was weaker – only causing him to loose grip of the sword and stagger backwards. The sword automatically deactivated once more, and the handle slid to the ground. The creature held its stomach as it led out another pained roar that suddenly turned into a gargle as it fell over onto its knees, and then collapsed almost immediately after.

Sadhal panted heavily as he watched the Monstrosity tumble to the ground, into a pool of its own blood. He looked at his arm and shook off the blood while keeping a vary eye on the thing. It was then that shock and realization hit Sadhal: He had defeated the monstrosity – he had won.

There shouldn't be anything else standing between me and getting off this ship. Sadhal mused to himself. Soon he would be off this hellhole and safe…safe from these monsters, the Demon and that accursed little girl called Alma. He smiled for a second before frowning as his arm began to sting all of a sudden. Looking at it, Sadhal saw that the skin had started to blister where the blood had touched it. Frowning, he glanced at the creature and then back at the container. Holding his side, he limped to the container with the medical kits, and took out another. Injecting himself with more painkillers, Sadhal quickly cleaned out the blood from his arm and then began to move. Looking at the container that had the swords in it, Sadhal found that, oddly, the remaining three swords were now missing. Looking around, he couldn't spot any of them in the wreckage lying around – and the one he had used was now lying underneath the monstrosity's body. Frowning, Sadhal shook his head. No matter – he would manage with the Carbine.

With that in mind, he moved towards the exit, carefully stepping over the still-smoldering pieces of debris around its remains. Standing at the cusp of the door, just before the open space outside, Sadhal glanced back at the body and the room momentarily, before turning back to look for the door.

Then he froze.

Wait…Did I…did it…did the body just move? Sadhal thought as he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Turning back to the body of the thing, he looked at it. No…it hadn't moved – it was just as before.

Must be the painkillers. he thought to himself before turning back.

But even as he did so, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye again. This time, Sadhal whirled around and raised up his Carbine.

No…I definitely saw something.

Sadhal thought to himself as a wave of fear went through his mind. It had to be dead – no living being could have survived such injuries like that! None had – not even Flood!

Yet, sure as day, he watched in shock and horror as a burst of blood began to flow from the back of the thing where the sword had exited.

No…that's…by the prophets, NO!

Yet, Sadhal's prayers remained unanswered as the entire body trembled once and even more blood gushed out. And then, suddenly, it stopped, and Sadhal could make out new skin regenerating over the hole and clearing it out. Flesh began to make itself whole again as the creature's arms suddenly surged in size, swelling up and ripping through the flak jacket as if it wasn't there. He watched in horror as the arms then moved; starting with the one that was still intact, which it used to prop itself up and onto it's knees.

Sadhal didn't stay back to see anymore, though. He made the wise decision of turning around and making a run towards the exterior door. Sadhal didn't look back as the Monstrosity rose to its feet; and then let out a deafening roar that echoed not just in the room, but through the corridors of the ship itself. But by the time he had heard it, Sadhal was already at the corridor that had led into the room itself. Making a left turn, he headed to the door that led to the ramps, running down the length of the corridor within two seconds and then hurling himself through the door as it opened.

Sadhal didn't stop there either, as another roar could be heard from the garden's entrance. He didn't look back, however, and instead focused on the ramps ahead of him. The ramps were simple enough: basically just long stretches of hallways that were inclined downwards, with a turn at the end and another stretch before it reached the next level. It went like this all the way down to the engine complex at the bottom of the ship. Right now, he was at the very top of the ramps, leaving the only way being down.

Panting for a second, Sadhal nodded to himself, and then began to run again. The hangar bay was down at least six levels. The next one down was the living quarters, and the one below that were the sub-cargo bays along with the statue of the Prophet truth. Co-incidentally, that was also the level that the lift had stopped on. Sadhal didn't stop to consider this, however, as he turned the corner and continued downwards. As he passed the next level and turned the corner again into the ramp down, Sadhal could already hear the door opening in the level above and the loud thud of the thing's footsteps. Wasting no time, he leapt down the ramp and around the next turn.

And then he screeched to a halt as he looked down the ramp leading to the next level.

At the bottom of the ramp was the last person he had expected to see right now – or rather, the last persons.

The Demon was at the bottom of the ramp…and was running up towards Sadhal. But that was not the most interesting thing. What was the interesting thing was the presence of the other Demon that turned the corner and moved alongside him, who was now carrying a crippled female human on the back.

Another demon? Here? Did we not kill all of them save that one? Sadhal thought to himself as he watched them run upwards. From the way they were moving, they seemed to be running away from something, though.

And that something then revealed itself as it turned the corner just behind the two.

It was massive, to say the least. Almost the same size as the monstrosity behind him, the thing looked equally fearsome despite being of a more mechanical nature. It was nothing more than the equivalent of a moving mech, though, with a dome shaped front with the words "REVE 6" painted onto it. Both of its arms seemed to hold a deadly combination of weapons that Sadhal could only guess at – and as it turned the corner, it came to a stop, pointing both of them upwards. The Demon looked at Sadhal for a second before he pointed at him and shouted something. It was at that point of time that Sadhal's blood ran cold as he heard the thump of the Monstrosity jumping in right behind him.

It was then that he realized just how dire the situation was. He essentially had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide, and as he looked down the Ramp and the Demon, Sadhal realized that the same was probably true of the Demon and his group as well. Closing his eyes, time slowed as only one thought seemed to ring through his mind:

We lost…we're all dead…and now theirs is no escape.


*******

Earlier

For a long moment, neither SPARTAN moved, nor spoke to each other as they looked into the other's visor.

Kelly. The fastest of all the SPARTANS, John had relied on her speed and stealth in many an operation – up to and including their first mission to apprehend the Colonel. That mission seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet, John could remember it as if it was yesterday. John would have given anything to see any of his SPARTANS once again…and it seemed like someone up there was listening in to his requests. The troubling part, however, was what had been taken for this. After all, everything has a price…up to and including good fortune.

"Sorry to interrupt this staring contest, but mind explaining what's going on here?"

Jin's harsh voice cut through the silence. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he noted that she was severely injured; possibly fatally so unless she could get to a medical center soon. But that evaluation took less than a second as John ignored her and instead turned back to Kelly. He wanted to say something…anything at the ghost now standing in front of him…but no suitable words brought themselves before him to express how he was feeling.

But Kelly knew, and she nodded in slight acknowledgment. It wasn't much – just a minor move here and there, but the body language said she knew. She broke the silence as she asked the first question.

"The others?."

John knew who she was referring to. He only shook his head. Kelly nodded. No further explanation was needed.

"Dr. Halsey?" John asked, this time somewhat curious. Dr. Halsey had taken Kelly with her just after the operation, while she was still drugged. Kelly didn't answer immediately though, but after a few seconds of pause, she just shook her head, indicating that she didn't know. Kelly didn't elaborate further, though, and instead turned back to Jin. Turning around, he studied the corridor and lift, keeping a sharp eye out for replicas.

"Jin, this is Master Chief John 117. Don't worry, he's a friend. We have to move now."

Jin only nodded. Kelly didn't wait any further before she scooped up the FEAR agent into a fireman's carry. Keeping a sharp eye out, John nodded to Kelly as he moved towards the lift and pressing the call button. He then moved towards where the battle had taken place, picking up another shotgun and two pistols off the dead Replicas there. Moving back towards the elevator, he came up behind Kelly and Jin as he spoke up.

"How did you get onboard?"

Kelly nodded as she took the weapons pistol, holstering it and then wielding the shotgun single-handed. She passed one of the pistols back up to Jin, who just accepted it with her free hand and placed it into the holster on her side. Finally, she spoke, replying slowly.

"I don't know. One minute I was on the operating table with Dr. Kelly hovering above me...and the next I wake up alone on the ship. I don't know where Dr. Halsey went…but I didn't find remains…or anything else for that matter. The ship was in a storm of some kind; and a lightning blast hit us through the hull and sucked me out into the vacuum…which then threw me onto the ship and into the middle of a dozen replicas – not to mention helicopter wreckage. They took me and Jin from the wreck…something about holding us hostage, I believe."

Kelly turned to John as she then continued, her voice low.

"John...what happened to the Covenant...and where are we?"

Jin looked at John from her position on Kelly's shoulder, a curious look on her face as well. Like it not, John realized that she was stuck in the middle of all of this too, and had a right to know. Looking up at the elevator, he realized it would take some time to come down all the way, giving them a chance to talk.

Looking back at the other two, John quickly spoke to them. He filled them in on the events that had taken place after the destruction of Halo; including the covenant invasion of Earth; the destruction of New Mombassa; the chase and eventual death of the Prophet of Regret, and then the events on High Charity...and then he reached the most important part, the one where he paused and considered what information to give.

Gravemind. Should he tell them about the entity that now inhabited Jin's team member, or of the fact that the flood was now on board the ship?

John knew what Kelly's immediate reaction would be: to destroy the ship and everything on board. She would have no qualms and hassles about doing such a thing...but he felt otherwise. Death was stalking him...and there was still the matter of Alma Wade – something which the FEAR operative would know best about.

They deserve to know.

The thought ran through his mind. It was right; they were knee-deep in this, just as he was. Telling them now would probably save their lives, if nothing else. Besides, John really wasn't all that good at lying either.

"Do go on, Master Chief." Jin spoke up, prodding John around. He sighed internally, and finally continued from where he had left off: the boarding of the forerunner ship. He continued on, telling them about the Brutes, the prison cells, the helicopter...and then his first encounter with Alma Wade. Jin cursed once he finished.

"My God...Alma made it too? What about the point man, did he make it?"

John hesitated to reply. The point man...he was no longer as Jin would have known him...yet, should he bring up the issue at all? Realizing that he had little other choice, John only shook his head slightly.

"The point man...died shortly thereafter. I was rescued by a Covenant Elite, when we hid in the cells aga-"

"Wait. You were rescued by an Elite?" Kelly asked, her tone somewhat shocked and surprised. John only nodded. "From what I can tell, the prophets double-crossed them as well...theirs a full civil war raging on. He's the only survivor of the ship's crew right now. We got split up soon after, however..."

"Why? Where did he go?"

John again hesitated. He was unsure how to put this. After a moment, he finally continued, looking directly at Jin.

"The Point Man now belongs to Gravemind. The...condition and the flood infection on the ship became clear shortly after we encountered a different entity on board the ship...one that shares a similar uniform to yours. The being it inhabits...his original name was Paxton Fettel, from what I saw on the name tag, but..."

John paused. He considered carefully what to say next, lest the other two call him crazy. Hell, for the briefest of moments, John thought he was going crazy. The illusions of Kirk, the dreams of Alma and Sgt. Johnson. And then the physical manifestation of death that now stalked them all. He could tell from Jin's expression that she was already somewhat skeptical, but still believing it.

"But what?" Kelly pushed him on this time, noticing the hesitance in his voice. John looked at Kelly for a long moment.

"Kelly...their are four distinctively powerful entities on board this ship right now. One is Gravemind...who seems to be here out of sheer willpower alone. The other is Alma Wade, the third, I suspect...may just be something that can help us all...while the fourth..."

John paused, looking away for a brief moment. His voice turned into a harsh whisper as he continued. The lift was coming closer; but it still wouldn't be there for another thirty seconds or so.

"The fourth is a physical manifestation of Death. It appears to have caused the storm that is surrounding this ship. It brought in the Replicas, along with Alma and you."

Jin just frowned, while John could tell from Kelly's body language that she didn't believe him for a moment. But then the moment passed.

"At any other time, I would think you were crazy...but this isn't any other time. What's the objective and who's hostile?"

Kelly asked, but as John was about to reply, the lift finally reached the ground floor. It was thankfully empty. There were no hidden traps or trip-mines on it as well, which was sort of fortunate as well. Checking the sniper rifle, John stepped onto the elevator and activated it, taking them upwards.

"For now, the objective is to get to the bridge. We have to acquire an object from there, similar to the one that you recovered from Reach. Apparently, it has the capacity to both contain Alma, as well as keeping Death away. Consider all Replicas hostiles – they are technically working for Death. There is an Elite still alive on board the ship, however his status is uncertain. If you see flood, keep your distance – but don't engage. Gravemind's status is uncertain, but it said it would meet us on the bridge as well."

Kelly nodded. John gave an internal sigh, but suddenly noticed that something was wrong. Kelly noticed it too, but it was Jin that actually asked out the question.

"We're ascending fast. That's odd...the lift was slow on the way down."

John frowned. Jin was right...this was certainly odd indeed. Considering that it took five minutes to get to the ground floor, John had assumed it was a heavy cargo lift designed for the purpose. Yet, studying the control panel, he realized this was just like any other Covenant lift he had seen.

Unless it was programmed to go that way.

But then by whom?

The answer came almost immediately in the form of a radio broadcast. Kelly's radio was broadcasting it to Jin's ear peace, so all three heard it simultaneously as it echoed both over the line, and from upstairs as well.
"Tango one, this is Command. Do you have visual confirmation of the hostiles?"

"Negative command, but we have a possible contact coming up the elevator. They wiped out most of Zeta squad, but we have one survivor. The other hostage may now be working with the target and has our weapons. We need more help down here."

"Affirmative Tango one. REV-6 support and Sierra squad is en-route to your location, ETA is 12 minutes. Hold the line as long as you can, but retreat back to Gamma if they push too hard."

"Roger that. What is the status of the flood?"

"Gamma squad has neutralized the flood instance at Sector zero-seven-five. Delta squad is currently in combat with the primary target. Status is uncertain, but four REV-6's are en-route to re-enforce them. Take note that Flood forms may come into your sector from zero-eight-two and zero eight-three. Those bastards are coming out of the ceiling vents now, so keep a sharp lookout."

"Affirmative Command. Tango one out."

John cursed internally. He knew this had been going too good. They had another twenty seconds – twenty five, tops – before they would reach the top. He glanced at Kelly, but she was already looking at her shotgun, and checking the ammo there. John did a check on the sniper rifle as well. It was still operational; although from the display it looked like he just had five shots left.

Better make them count.

"This isn't good." Jin spoke up, but then grunted in pain as Kelly went down on one knee, before laying her to rest against the back wall of the elevator.

"Your too injured to fight, Jin. Stay here." Jin just nodded, but took out the pistol and turned off the safety anyway. She would remain ready, regardless. Kelly turned back to John. The point was clear. Stop the lift. John turned around and manipulated the control panel, setting to lift into an emergency stop mode. It slowly groaned to a halt as the radio channel spoke up again. All three of them froze in place as the voices spoke out again, ignorant of the fact that

"Tango One, this is Sierra one, we're reading the elevator has stopped. Can you confirm or deny?"

"Confirmed Sierra one. The elevator has stopped. Motion detectors show no movement."

"Affirmative. We're picking up the pace. ETA in eight. Sierra one out."

"roger that. Tango two and three, recon. Tango four and five cover them."


The radio clicked dead, leaving the three in silence. John just gave a short nod to Kelly, who just nodded back. It was time to move. Raising his sniper rifle, John looked up. The edge of the upper floor was around a meter above their heads. Normally, any other human wouldn't have been able to jump that high...but the SPARTANS were no normal human. With one breath, both he and Kelly bent their knees, before taking a giant leap upwards. The wall passed downwards in front of them as John brought the sniper rifle up, looking for a target as his other hand shot out for the ledge, his legs coming up to get a perch as well.

The room beyond was similar to the one they had just left; there were three distinct levels here; with a tree centered in each save the one they had just come up to. But at the ramps to each of the levels (the first being about six meters away, with each subsequent one being five meters distant from the top of the previous ramp), no less than twenty-three Replicas had barricaded themselves behind boxes and other equipment. Most of them held rifles and sub-machine guns, but at least four of them had shotguns, while another six had HV-penetrators and there were two snipers. At least two of these were now not six feet away from them; one carrying a shotgun, while the other a G1A1 rifle.

"Hostile spotted!"

The cry came out over the radio as both Replicas suddenly reacted, screeching to a halt and turning back. They were fast...but Kelly was way faster. By the time John had scrabbled to his feet, Kelly had already charged the nearest Replica, ramming it with her side and then firing point-blank at it with the shotgun. The blast was powerful enough that is simply vaporized the Replica's body, forming a fine mist of blood and organs that splashed over them. John ignored it, however, and simply aimed the sniper rifle at the sniper that was now taking aim at Kelly.

A blue beam rang out across the room from the top of the third level, streaking through the space where his had been less than half a second ago. John's return volley didn't miss, however. The Replica gave an unearthly scream as the beam hit...and then completely vaporized him, leaving behind nothing but a charring Skeleton. John was surprised at the result for a brief moment, but then it passed and he took aim at another Replica.

Two down...twenty one to go. He glanced over at Kelly, who was now cutting down the other retreating Replica, while moving impossibly fast herself. Speed or not, this was probably going to be the toughest battle in their entire career.

*****

Bullets streaked both ways through the large room, some of them missing the two SPARTANS and either lodging themselves into the wall, or ricocheting into either the ceiling or the floor. Most of them, however, managed to hit and bounce off John's shields, even as he ran with unnatural speed across the room, dodging the Replicas as best as he could.

Shit! She's too fast! Suppressive Fire!"

He fired once more with the sniper rifle, vaporizing yet another Replica with it. The tally was down to 19 replicas now, as he watched Kelly knock down another one in the lower tier with a pistol bullet to the head. Kelly was fast – so fast, that she was now literally running across the wall for two full seconds to dodge whatever she could, and not get pinned down. It was only a few meters to the first barricade, but the amount of munitions pointed her way prevented her from getting any closer – lest the shotguns actually hit her full-on, rather than just grazing her shields as they were now.

Make that 20 again. John corrected himself, as he watched the fallen Replica get off the floor, a bullet-sized hole running clear through its brain, and then continue firing at both of them with it's rifle. A total of 15 Replicas focused on Kelly's ridiculously fast form, while only five seem to be paying much attention to him...unfortunately for John, four of those five held HV Penetrators; the spikes of which now whizzed dangerously close to his body.

He needed to correct this situation desperately, otherwise they would have little chance of surviving. He fired again, and another Replica went down on Kelly's side. The ammo counter hit zero as the rifle's battery compartment open, demanding more power or energy with which to operate. John just dropped it, however, as he dived and rolled to the side, avoiding a swath of fire that raked his shields, bringing them down to near-zero. But as John came up, his right hand produced a grenade, while his left now held the assault rifle. Squeezing the trigger, John let loose with a hail of gunfire, throwing the Replicas on the lowest tier into cover as they ducked. He brought his right hand up and with a flick of the wrist, the Grenade went flying out towards the lower Tier.

Grenade!! Get down!"

The Replicas noticed it immediately, and dove for cover. But at the same time, John's radio crackled once more as the group of replicas on the other side shouted out.

Grenade out! Get that bitch!

John noticed a grenade fly out from the other side of the room towards where Kelly was reloading. She was no longer using the pistol – which was now out of ammo and lying on the floor. She held the shotgun with both hands, using it to force the Replicas under cover...at least, till now. Time seemed to slow as he shouted her name out over the radio; trying to warn her of the incoming threat. But then he saw it wasn't necessary as she calmly ducked under the grenade and kept on firing. She tensed her knees as it arced behind her, coming to impact on the ground and bouncing towards the lift.

The grenade exploded at the same time as John's did, forming two simultaneous Bangs both in front and behind him. He could hear a scream in front of him as a Replica went down as it was unable to get to cover. He noted that it was the Replica with the HV Penetrator; but at the same time, John ignored it. His attention was focused for the briefest on moments onto Kelly, as she did an expert jump right as the grenade exploded behind her; riding the shockwave and heading straight into the group of Replicas – all of whom scrambled for cover. But even as they did so, he got a sick feeling in his gut.

Kelly…she didn't know how tough these Replicas were at Hand-to-hand combat…for her to take nearly three of them on at once.

Nothing we can do about it…keep fighting. John thought to himself. The priority was to stay alive for the moment. All this flashed through his mind in less than a second as his feet sprung into motion, propelling the SPARTAN full on at the barricade in front of him. The bullet's didn't stop, however, as his shields suddenly collapsed, and they pinged off his armor. John knew it wouldn't last for long, however – and if someone with a HV Penetrator targeted him right now; he would be dead. Taking a flying leap, he hit the ground rolling to come up right in front of the barricade; taking cover right in front of it from the Replicas in the tiers above.

"Shit! He's over there!!"

Again the echo of the Replica's commands came over the radio. John didn't move to engage, however. Instead, he lit up another plasma grenade and threw it up and behind his shoulder, and into the Replicas behind him.

"FUCK! Grenade! Take cover!"

The tactic worked. He counted down the seconds as the shield bar began to recharge. At the same time he sneaked a glance at Kelly while he reloaded the last clip into the assault rifle. She was, surprisingly, managing just fine against the Replicas. Two were already dead, while her speed had somehow allowed her to use the third as a human shield against the incoming fire from the higher Tier. Checking the HUD, John saw that her shields were out; but now slowly recharging. It was surprising how well she fared against the Replicas; especially considering his own dismal performance against one of them in Hand-to-Hand combat. Still, there was little he could do for the moment as the shields stopped recharging at around half when the grenade exploded behind the boxes, pushing them into his back.

Two men down! Get that bastard!

Good enough. John thought to himself. His momentary reprieve was pretty much over. Without another thought, he threw the last plasma grenade over his shoulder once more – this time to where he remembered the second tier barricade was. John ignored the surprised reaction of the Replicas as he jumped up to his feet; barely dodging at the last second as a grenade flew right past his head. There were nobody behind the barricades – which meant that he had either gotten all of them, or they had retreated to the second or third level. Not paying it a second thought, he leaped over the barricade, firing all the way. His feat hit the ground next to another dead Replica. Without thinking, John instinctively reached down with one hand and brought its body up, covering him from the bullets that filled the air where he stood. Blood spattered onto his shields, but they remained solid for now.

He tried to get a count on how many were left on his side. There had originally been four in the lowest level, another five in the second one, and finally 3 in the top most. He had taken out one sniper, along with all three on the lowest level…that only left five behind the next barricade, and two more behind them.

Make that four. He thought. A scream of pain rang through the air as the plasma grenade exploded, taking out another Replica with it.

John's thoughts were interrupted, however, as the corpse in front of him suddenly jerked backwards, slamming into him as the blast from not one, but two shotguns nearly vaporized the front. The jerk was powerful enough that it shook the G1A1 Rifle out of his hand. Somewhat surprised by this and realizing he needed to move, John let go of the body and threw it to the side while he jumped into the opposite direction – right near what appeared as a sub-machine gun of some sorts. Going into a rolling dive, John picked up the gun and brought it up to aim at those in the upper tier, even as bullets streaked past his helmet and his shields began to become dangerously low once more. But even as he looked on, John realized it was too late. Two of the four replicas that stood behind the Barricade were wielding shotguns – both of which had now reloaded, and were being pointed towards him. The other two Replicas had ducked, reloading their rifles desperately. But they didn't matter for the moment. Time seemed to slow as he watched the two other Replicas track his movements, and as the muzzles came down to bear on his still-moving form.

If they fired, he didn't stand a chance. Even at these ranges, those guns would have a devastating effect, especially when his shields were almost gone. One blast would have hurt him really bad right now; but two? No chance.

Yet, even as he thought all of this; his mind considered his options as his fingers squeezed the trigger, hoping against hope that he could get at least one of them to stagger or miss. John could feel as the Adrenaline pumped through his veins and time seemed to slow even further. He could see the individual bullets streak out of the sub-machine gun; the recoil sending them wide of their intended targets. The voices of the Replica rung out; slurred as it were by pace the scene was playing out at.

" Die ************!""

Disappointment raced through his mind as his eyes closed for the briefest of moments. A single question ran through his mind:

Is this it…is it the end?

BANG.

The blast echoed out in his ears as a bullet flew right past his head…and smashed straight into the right Replica's shotgun right in the ammunition cartridge; causing it to explode almost immediately, taking out its hands and arms and spattering blood everywhere. The explosion was powerful enough that it threw not just that Replica backwards, but threw the ones right next to it onto the ground. The ammunition must have been really potent – even John could feel the blast of heat despite his armor and shields.

What in the name of…

John took a quick glance back to where the bullet had come from, and was somewhat surprised to see its source. It had come from near the elevator, where Jin was now crouched on the ground, the smoking pistol held in front of her with both hands. She could barely stay up, and the gun was shaking significantly. Yet, she managed to hold it steady for a second as she fired another round – this time towards Kelly's side. She turned to look at him, the features on her face contorted in pain as she shouted at him, rather loudly.

"MOVE! Go now! Keep going!"

John gave a slight nod, and turned back towards the Replicas. Lucky shot or not, it had brought the time he needed. The second level was mostly clear, leaving only the three replicas that were now at the top. All three had recovered from the blast, of course, and were now shooting at him once more. John replied in kind; going full auto and focusing on downing one Replica at a time. His shields were almost gone, but John didn't bother with them much, using his speed and reflexes to keep him from getting hit too much instead. The Replica's fire was accurate, however, and this only helped him a little as soon he was forced to duck once more behind the second level barricade for cover once more. Still, he had already taken out one Replica, and seriously injured another before the clip ran out.

Studying the sub-machine gun, John threw it to one side, and was about to reach for a pistol that had fallen nearby when a shadow fell over him.

Battle-hardened instincts reacted first as his right hand shot out, grabbing the shotgun that was above his head. John then pulled on it as hard as he possibly could, angling it to the side so that it wouldn't hit him if it accidentally discharged – which it did as the Replica holding it squeezed the trigger almost as instinctively. But then either the Replica was weakened, or had backup, as he let go of the shotgun, allowing it to slip forwards and right into John's lap.

Smiling internally, John held the shotgun in both hands, pumping it and clearing the chamber of the empty round. With one smooth motion, he got up and turned around; firing straight into the Replica behind him and tearing the body in half. The hail of bullets began once more, however, and some of them began to tear into the armor; sending up a sharp pain through his chest and abdomen. Not wasting any time, John pumped the shotgun once more and fired again – this time the injured Replica fell over, with a gurgled cry of pain.

"Shit! He just wiped out the whole squad! Retreat!"

John turned to look at the last Replica; who had by now turned around and was running towards one of the nearby doors; firing at John all the way with his assault rifle. John couldn't take chase, however, as the bullets began to really eat away at the armor, forcing him to take cover. It was then that he heard another loud Bang! from the nearby elevator and then the sound of the Replica falling to the ground. Looking at Jin, he nodded his thanks, before glancing to his left to check up on Kelly.

She was pretty much done as well; surrounded by dead bodies and her armor covered in blood, Kelly was visibly panting underneath the seriously damaged armor. John could see in places here and there that the armor was almost completely gone; with only a scant few millimeters left.

But that was not the important bit. As she turned to look at him; John could sense the smile…the feeling of joy that came behind it.

It was over.

We survived…we won. John smiled to himself. He glanced at Jin, and was suddenly alarmed as he saw her collapsed on the ground, clutching her stomach and coughing up blood. Kelly noticed his gaze and looked towards Jin as well…and then, she moved, racing toward Jin. She made it there a lot sooner than John did. Without thinking, she lifted Jin up and rested her against the wall.

"Jin? Jin! Are you all right?" Kelly asked. Jin just coughed a bit more, before nodding weakly.

"I'll…I'll be fine." She replied. Kelly didn't wait, and instead just lifted her back into a fireman's carry; ignoring the accompanying grunt of pain. She then turned around to face John.

"We don't have much time…their backup will be arriving soon." John whispered. He knew that Kelly understood as she nodded. Walking quickly, they headed past the barricades and bodies, only stopping for a scant second as John bent down to pick up some more ammo from one of the bodies. But after that, they stopped at the top of the ramps, and looked at the large room present. Ahead of them was the main ramps entrance, while off to the side was another elevator, much like the ones they had just come from.

John glanced at the elevator, and realized that something was…off, as it were. The elevator light was on, indicating that it was on the way down. This was confirmed almost a second later as it appeared from the chute; depositing its passengers onto their deck. And the passengers were truly nothing short of frightening. No less than Three heavy-armored Replicas stepped off the platform; forming a triangular formation. At the center of the formation was the most fearsome machine that John had seen to date.

Its construction was reminiscent of the many maintenance drones that John and his SPARTANS had fought during the training phase; yet at the same time it seemed far more…sinister. It could be best described as a small suit of powered armor, or maybe a small mech. A dirty white in color, the machine had a domed front that stood out significantly. Just from the thickness of its arms and legs, one could see that it was heavily armored, and at the same time, from the look of the triple-barreled rocket launchers in each arm, it was heavily armed as well. The domed front had the words "REVE-6" painted on it in bright red and bold letters. However, the last 'E' was significantly fainted out – as if removed by battle scars or damage. The entire construct itself seemed worn out, with several bullet dents and dings present on its arms and legs.

John glanced at Kelly, and only spoke one word.

"Run."

With that, both SPARTANS ran as fast as they could towards the door. HV Penetrator spikes and rockets streaked by in the air behind them as they fled through the ramp entrance, the Replica forces in fast pursuit. They rounded the bend to the first upwards incline. It was then that John stopped as he noticed something at the top of the ramp. Kelly nearly ran into him as he did so. She was about to ask something, when she looked up and saw it, too.

There was an elite standing at the top of the ramp.

Or more specifically, the same elite that John had seen and met earlier. It was in a far more horrible state than before, however, with a lot of blood – of varying species – all over its armor…just as there was on John's. It was a relief in a sense…of all the people to run into here; at least he had managed to bump into a potential ally. But where had he just come from? The bridge?

Thump. John's blood froze as he heard the large sound of the footstep behind him. He didn't need to turn back to see that the REVE-6 had already caught up to them. However, it was what happened next that caught a greater priority. Behind the elite…something appeared. John raised a hand, pointing to behind him, but he could see from the Elite's expression of horror that he knew…and knew all to well what was behind him. The monstrosity…the thing – John had no proper terms with which to describe it. It must have been human at one point of time…but now it was so grossly mutated, that it was only a shadow of its former self.

However, that was not the thought that frightened John the most.

They were now, essentially trapped, with no place to go.

Nowhere to run…nowhere to hide.

***

No Escape. The thought seemed to flash through John's mind as he considered the situation very carefully. This was bad…very bad. They were now trapped between two very hostile and potentially very deadly opponents. One of these opponents had chased him, Kelly and Jin down, while the other seemed to have chased his more…unusual ally, the elite, through the ship and then reached here. John couldn't gauge the creature's abilities; but if it had been more than a match for the Elite – as visible from the elite's wounds and current fear – then it would probably be either equal or stronger than him.

All this happened in the fraction of a second as a sudden idea formed in his head. He sent a short series of blips onto Kelly's screen in the next fraction. She got the point though: duck and cover. John, on the other hand, immediately began to run forwards even as he heard the soft click of the rockets launcher firing behind him. Still, he was ready for it; and began to move to his left to dodge it.

That was when the entire ship jerked, and the floor stepped out from under him; forcing him to trip and fall to the right. That very move saved his life, as the rockets streaked past him and impacted against the left wall; the shockwave hitting him straight in the chest and pushing him backwards significantly. In front of him, the creature staggered as well, allowing the elite an opportunity to escape as he leaped down the ramp, rolling to a stop several feet away from it as it struggled to recover. Behind him, John could hear a loud thunk as the REVE-6 fell to the ground, but he didn't need to look back to know that it was already getting back up to his feet.

What caused that? John couldn't help but think to himself, however, as he rolled onto his feet and came back up. Something had either hit the ship, or a large explosion had taken place somewhere. Might be Gravemind. John thought to himself. He didn't have the luxury of speculation at the moment, however. Glancing back, he saw that Kelly was still on her feet and still holding Jin. Kelly was moving backwards as she brought her shotgun up, firing at the REVE-6 as it came up in an attempt to do as much damage as possible. Her efforts were futile, however, as the powerful blasts simply bounced off the extremely tough armor. It did manage to slow it down a bit, however, so that was an added advantage.

Moving on, John looked back in front. The Elite was not less than four feet away and was on his feet. John moved towards the Elite, bringing up his own shotgun and aiming it towards the creature as it got up. That was when he heard it.

It was nothing short of a whisper…absolutely faint, it was almost inaudible as it carried itself down the hallway on some invisible wind. The whisper had no coherent words in it, yet at the same time, John could recognize the voice…but at the same time, couldn't exactly place who it belonged to. It seemed that two or three voices had melded into it. Who it was not, however, was a relief. It certainly wasn't Alma's that much was sure. Still, the oddness was enough to give his step a momentary pause.

Once more, John's unwitting actions saved his life as, suddenly, the wall to his right exploded outwards and into the corridor. A massive heat wave hit John, pushing him back as a large, green beam of plasma filled the space just inches in front of him. The wall collapsed, exposing a large opening, and the last thing that John would have possibly expected in this scenario: the large blue form of a hunter that now charged into the room. The hunter was massive; almost as large as the creature that was chasing the Elite. It was hunched over in a defensive stance as it brought its heavily armored let arm up, while at the same time bringing the Fuel Rod Gun attached to it's right hand up to bear towards where John was standing. He cursed and jumped to the side, moving out of the way as yet another blast

"No! Stop! Shoot it!"

The Elite's deep voice resounded across the ramp, catching the attention of the Hunter, who immediately snapped around to face him. It uttered a guttural reply in a language that John didn't understand, but the Elite apparently did, who responded in kind. The Hunter seemed to give the equivalent of a nod as it fired a round at the creature on the top of the ramp, which had already gotten up by now and was moving towards the Elite. The creature dodged the blast easily, leaping to the right with a speed that was far, far faster than something its size had a right to be. The Elite ran forward, taking cover behind the Hunter (but not so close as to get impaled by the long spikes) and looking through the hole in the wall. The Elite turned back to the Hunter and uttered some more commands as it then quickly turned around and fired not at the REVE-6, but at the rockets that were now streaking towards it. A lucky shot managed to detonated all three rockets before they could go very far, buying their group just a little bit of time.

The Elite waved at John and Kelly, pointing at the hole in the wall. "Quickly, in here!" With that, he ducked into the wall. John looked at Kelly, then nodded before making a mad dash to the hole. There was little choice but to trust the Elite right now – staying here would mean that they would be toast.

Running at full speed, they were inside in less than a second, narrowly dodging another set of rockets that streaked between them and the hunter – which, co-incidentally, hit the ground right in front of the creature, knocking it back a bit. The hunter used this opportunity to turn around and make a run for the hole, missing yet another set of rockets just as they detonated on the ground right behind it. But as John glanced back and saw, they had little effect against the Hunter's incredible armor. These beings took a full Jackhammer round to take down – sometimes two. They were pretty damn tough, to say the least. Still, John ignored it for the moment, and concentrated on following the Elite. It didn't look like they were being followed, and they were under the expert guidance of a local, as it were At the very least, they now had a very, very powerful ally to help them get up to the bridge. Once they got to the bridge…this should hopefully soon be over.

Hopefully.

****

Meanwhile, back in the hallway, Nemesis glared at the REVE-6 standing near the bottom of the ramp as it slowly got up. His body had taken a massive beating thus far, and the rocket blast hadn't helped it one bit. Tentacles writhed and squirmed as the T-virus mutations continued, expanding outwards from the stump of the thing's arm. New flesh had already filled the hole that the Elite had left with the plasma sword, and the mutations continued. Worn and battered, the walking mutation took a step forwards to the REVE-6; the internal chip that controlled its brain and conscious immediately identified the cybernetic being before it as a threat – one that needed to be neutralized immediately, lest it be unable to continue with the mission. It advanced further, taking yet another step, and growing into a slow walk. It knew the mechanization could not move fast…and there was no need to hurry.

Likewise, the REVE-6's sensors and equipment showed the unidentified creature to be an unknown factor. The closest match the mind inside the machine could find was the flood organisms it had encountered so far – all of which were to be terminated upon any encounter. Its programming worked swiftly; analyzing the opponent's weaknesses and determining a strategy to attack in less than a second.

The REVE-6 put one foot back to better balance itself as it bent its knees slightly. At the same time, it raised up both arms, and the rocket launchers in each; bringing them to bear on the now advancing form of Nemesis. The barrels kicked back as the rockets exploded out from their chambers; streaking across and up the ramp towards their targets. The three rockets moved in a spiral pattern, leaving a clear-cut heat trail in the air that disappeared quickly.

Few people would have been able to dodge such a blast, especially at those ranges. For this scenario, however, Nemesis was one of those few people. It twisted to the side; its torso passing cleanly between both batches of missiles as they streaked by, and into the wall on the top of the ramp. Turning back to the REVE-6, Nemesis immediately ducked as a second volley passed by where its head used to be. However, it couldn't miss the third volley as the REVE-6 adapted its tactics, and instead blasted the floor right in front of Nemesis; catching it with the gigantic splash and heat wave instead. The Shockwave was powerful enough that it lifted Nemesis off its feet, depositing the giant onto its back not five feet behind where it had been standing. Its body simmered with the heat of the explosion, tainting the air with the smell of burning and rotting flesh.

Two empty and smoldering boxes hit the floor with a loud clang as the REVE-6 cycled its ammo boxes; reloading fresh rockets into the tubes. It would take another minute to cycle the boxes – something which it recognized would force it into melee combat. It immediately took a low combat stance – or at least, as much of a stance that a heavy suit of powered armor could make.

The boxes bounced off the floor, coming to a clattering halt a foot away from the REVE-6's foot. Nemesis could hear it; feel the vibrations of the box as it did so. It wasn't dead…at least, not yet. With a low growl, it slowly got up; jumping to it's feet and looking straight at the REVE-6. The bio-weapon bent its knees for the briefest of seconds, and then with a deafening roar, it leapt at the machine with all its strength. It covered the six meters to the machine in less than a second, bringing about the tentacles on its arm much akin to a strong whip.

But the REVE-6 was prepared for this. It took a step back, bringing up its left arm to shield itself from the blow. The tentacles wrapped around the arm as it staggered back as the full weight of Nemesis hit it, and it nearly fell over from the force of the impact. But it was smart enough to use Nemesis's weight against him. It pulled on the tentacles, and then spun quickly to it's left; shifting the weight such that it absorbed most of the energy safely. It then brought up its other arm, which the REVE-6 then smashed into Nemesis's side, pushing him completely into the floor. The domed-shape front of the Mech was somewhat cumbersome, but yet it somehow managed to pull off the move, smashing the giant's face right into the floor.

The tentacles lost their grip on the left arm as Nemesis momentarily blacked out…but then recovered. It was laying face-down on the floor; its head horrendously disfigured beyond belief by the impact. But even as it let out a gurgled roar of pain, the T-virus began to act; mutating parts of the flesh and recovering it near instantly. It did not remain still, either. It used its low position to kick out towards the REVE-6 with its powerful legs, sweeping the machination's legs out from under it in less than a second. The Mech fell over with a massive thud that echoed through the ramps and send a huge vibration through the floor.

The REVE-6's arms and legs thrashed about wildly as it struggled to get up and regain its orientation, but to no avail. It wasn't exactly helpless when fallen down, but the impact had jarred it enough that it was momentarily stunned. Nemesis did not miss this opportunity, however, as it quickly got up and looked at the machine struggling. With a loud roar, it brought both hands down; the intact one gripped onto the machine's left leg; denting it as it did so. At the same time, the tentacles on the other arm wrapped itself around the dome and body, grabbing it and squeezing as hard as possible. The REVE-6 armor was tough enough to prevent it to falling from so much pressure, however, and it held out. But this was not the intent behind the action.

Rather, the bio-weapon let out a loud roar as it slowly and painstakingly lifted the machine up. The REVE-6 struggled against the grips, but its resistance was mostly useless against Nemesis's strength as it was raised higher and higher…till finally, it was right above the gruesome remains of the bio-weapon's head. With an even louder roar, Nemesis then acted; flinging the REVE-6 with great force against the wall opposite the hole the hunter had created moments earlier. The wall broke into a dozen tiny fragments as the REVE-6 flew into it. It was weak enough that it barely did anything at all to slow down the REVE-6, as it flew nearly four meters past the hole and into a long corridor beyond before it hit the floor. The force of the impact was strong enough that it left a neat indentation into the floor as the machine skidded to a halt. The sounds of gears and hydraulics whizzing away could be heard as the machine tried desperately to recover. But the impact had shaken it up even more, leaving it primarily helpless as Nemesis barged in through the entrance.

It did not seem like the remains of the wall were even there as the bio-weapon leapt into the air once more; raising it's fist in an attempt to finish its opponent once and for all. But it was not to be so. While the REVE-6 was unable to get up and recover; its targeting and motion tracking systems came online, and the definitive click of the new ammo box sliding into place could be heard. Its reactions were on par with Nemesis's, allowing it to target and plot trajectories even as the bio-weapon sailed through the air.

It then put this data to good use, as it stopped struggling, and instead raised the rocket launchers on either arms, bringing to bear onto those trajectories.

And then it fired. The faint click of the trigger hitting the firing mechanism could be heard, as fire exploded out from the barrels. The rockets emerged from the fire, leaving white exhaust lines behind them as they spiraled outwards. Nemesis saw it coming, however, and twisted its torso to the right in an attempt to dodge it. It succeeded as the first trio of rockets barely scraped by across his chest, burning the remains of the flak suit that was left.

But was not so lucky as the second trio of the rockets impacted against his sides in a massive explosion. The heat and shockwave radiated outwards, taking with it flesh, muscles, carving out a massive hole in the side of Nemesis's torso. The kinetic force of the impact was powerful enough that it drove Nemesis upwards…and right into another explosion as the first trio of rockets exploded against the ceiling. The bio-weapon let out a gurgled cry of pain as it fell onto the ground. The bio-weapon's flesh was clearly on fire and burning; filling the corridor with a significant amount of smoke and stench that would have probably killed any normal human being outright. Fire alarm sensors activated, and sprinklers would have come on, had it not been for the damaged state of the entire corridor. Blood began to pour out of the hole in the giant's side, staining not just the floor, but the most of the exterior of the REVE-6 that lay next to it. Nemesis' fingers and tentacles twitched as it struggled to get up and continue the fight…only to finally collapse onto the ground, after which it didn't move.

The REVE-6, for its part, managed to regain proper control of its legs, and slowly rocked from side to side. After a second or two of doing so, it was able to turn onto its right side, at which time it used its arm to prop itself up, and then slowly come to its feet. It took a step backwards as its internal gyro-scopes re-adjusted themselves. The REVE-6 was forced to switch to its IR and UV sensors, due to the intense amount of heat and smoke Nemesis' still-burning body was producing. It scanned the body once, and finding it equivalent to dead, the machine slowly turned away. Its leg was partially damaged where Nemesis had grabbed it, forcing the REVE-6 to slowly limp towards the hole in the wall. It took a few seconds to get there; at which point it beat the wall with its arms, bringing down the remains easily enough.

It limped out towards the ramp, and the hole that was there. But rather than go through the hole after the targets it was sent here to chase, the REVE-6 looked towards either end of the ramp. It had come here with backup – namely three heavy armor replicas. While it had left the replicas behind in the previous room, it still did explain the lack of backup it had received. Surely they would have come once the sounds of the battle had begun? Although they were certainly slow, they were not that slow that they wouldn't have reached in time. Looking around, the REVE-6 attempted to get a radio ping on their positions…which promptly failed as the respective systems had taken too much damage and had shut down. Deciding it would return back to base for repairs, the REVE-6 was about to turn around when it's sensors spotted something at the bottom of the ramp.

A foot was sticking out from the end of the wall and where the ramp did a 'U' turn into the lower level. Judging from the size and pattern, the REVE-6's computers instantly recognized it as belonging to a heavy armored replica. Was this it's backup? If so, what had happened to them? Objective protocols dictated that the REVE-6 inspect the cause of the problem. Yet, at the same time, self-preservation protocols dictated that the REVE-6 immediately find a route back to command for repairs. The odds of an REVE-6 taking down whatever had taken down not one, but three heavy armor Replicas – especially when one of them was wielding a rocket launcher – were not in its favor. This was especially true as it had taken a significant amount of damage as it is.

It stood there, unable to decide for a few seconds. At this point of time, something suddenly seemed to pull the body backwards as the foot jerked out of sight. Protocol then became instantly clear as the REVE-6 quickly back-pedaled and opened fire. It didn't fire at a specific target – instead focusing on the ground and the wall near the 'U' turn. Trio of rockets streaked out towards the floor, creating several deafening explosions as the machine continued walking backwards towards the top of the ramp in an attempt to retreat from whatever the presence was. Scanners worked on full alert as the REVE-6 focused on the ramps, attempting to figure out what exactly the thing was.

All the time, it continued to fire non-stop, lest the thing actually try to come out of the cover and attack it. And then, suddenly, a loud thud and a roar from the hole it had just come from caught its attention. Twisting back to face the hole, the REVE-6 continued to move backwards as sensors scanned it; only to find nothing. Yet, audio recorders could easily hear the sounds of something moving in the corridor. Realizing its ammo was low; the REVE-6 quickly dropped the boxes, changing into its last two boxes of ammunition. By this time, it was already at the top of the ramp and near the 'U' turn leading upwards. Deciding not to wait, the REVE-6 quickly continued up the ramp, limping as fast as it could. It was at the top of the next level when it heard the loud crash of something hitting the wall.

Turning around, the REVE-6 spread its legs and raised its arms. It knew that it wasn't fast enough at this rate to avoid whatever was on its way. A resounding click could be heard as the final box of rockets entered into the chamber, ready to fire. This time, however, the REVE-6 held its fire as it waited for the thing to appear.

Its loud footsteps could be heard as it slowly walked up the ramp; casting an irregular shadow along the wall. The shadow was so vague and strange, that truly nobody would be able to tell what exactly the creature was…but at the very least, one could easily tell that it no longer even remotely resembled a human being. This became distinctively clear as what remained of Nemesis stepped around the corner, and into clear sight.

There were no words to describe how gruesome the creature had become. It hunched over, as if not having a strong enough back to hold up all the front mass. The creature no longer had a head – at least, in the human sense. Instead, it just had a long tube-like protrusion that ended in a stump, within which lay a single lidless eye that stared at the REVE-6 almost constantly. Its chest was serrated with rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth, while where its heart should have been was nothing but a large, gaping maw that threatened to consume anything that came too close. The wound on the side had completely healed, and was now writhing with several tentacles that extended outwards in all directions. Its legs had become thicker as well, supporting the engorged weight and upper body only barely. Yellow and orange skin covered most of the flesh; but there were open spots here and there that hadn't healed yet. The sight of it was revolting enough that it gave the REVE-6 pause. Yet, even as the machine watched, the creature suddenly stood up straight as blood busted out from its sides and the open wounds. It seemed to physically grow in size, gaining a stronger spine almost instantly, and at the same time extending the length of its teeth.

The creature took a step forward, and growled at the REVE-6 in a voice that would send spines down even the most fearless human. But the REVE-6 was not a human…or at least, not completely human.

The REVE-6 acted almost immediately; firing at the wall next to the creature with a rocket burst. But this time the creature was faster; it actually bounced onto the wall and then off, just before the rockets hit. It used the force of the shockwave to propel itself towards the other wall even as it twisted in mid-air and landed upon it; the claws on its feet leaving a massive tear in the armor. The REVE-6 tracked its movements, and fired accordingly; focusing on hitting with as much splash damage as possible, rather than going for a direct hit. It knew that the thing was too fast to possibly hit it with the slow-moving rockets, so it adapted and changed tactics.

The creature at first dodged the rockets by jumping from wall to wall; but then soon adapted even more. At the third volley of rockets the REVE-6 fired, three tentacles shot out; impacting against the rockets as they were half-way through the air, causing them to burst before they could go all the way. The tentacles were disintegrated; but at the same time were almost immediately replaced by three others. The creature continued to do this as it walked forwards and towards the machine; either swatting away the missiles completely, or forcing to explode prematurely. Eventually, realizing it would soon run out of ammo, the REVE-6 stopped firing, and instead went into another combat stance as what was left of Nemesis approached.

Seeing its chance, Nemesis did a massive leap towards the machine once more; but this time at a far greater range, however. It flew through the air with such speed that it nearly caught the REVE-6 off-guard. But it wasn't fast enough. The REVE-6 raised its arms, blocking both blows that came with the landing; while at the same time bracing its legs as it skidded backwards, the creature's teeth just barely millimeters from its domed front. It seemed to pull on its reserves as it pushed against Nemesis; throwing the creature backwards and causing it to stagger. The REVE-6 pressed on the offensive; immediately using the rocket launchers as primitive – yet extremely effective – clubs as it continually beat at the creature.

Nemesis managed to counter some of the blows; but others got through, hitting it right in the chest and the sides. Each blow was powerful enough that it crushed the bone underneath the flesh; ripping through it and gouging out a significant percentage into the barrels as they came out. Nemesis didn't exactly stay still, either. At intervals where it got the opportunity, the creature attempted to attack the domed front of the REVE-6 directly; with each blow that landed doing significant damage and denting it an inch or two. It even tried to kick out the legs from underneath the REVE-6 once more, but failed as the REVE-6 braced itself and blocked it with the barrel of its rocket launcher. Finally, Nemesis once more threw itself at the machine; attacking with both arms as it attempted to grab hold of the REVE-6. But the machine was just as fast in this case, as its arms reached out and blocked both of Nemesis's. They stood there, locked in this position for almost two seconds; each placing a tremendous amount of pressure on the other; neither force giving way.

Then the REVE-6 slowly began to slide backwards. Its feet did not have enough grip with the ground and slowly, steadily, Nemesis was able to push it back towards the wall, using nothing but sheer brute strength. For a moment, it seemed like Nemesis was winning; but that was until the REVE-6 did something utterly drastic to even the odds.

It opened fire. Under ideal circumstances, the rockets would have streaked out and hit their targets at Medium range, doing a significant amount of damage not only to the target, but in a large area around it. This is also necessary as the rockets have a minimum distance before the warheads are primed. Normally, they do so when they are around a foot or so away from the gun, so that they don't explode inside the barrel, or close enough to damage the ammunition box with the other rockets inside.

But these were hardly ideal circumstances. The rocket launcher's barrels were completely clogged up – but that wasn't much of an issue as the rockets pushed the matter out; and right into Nemesis's hands. The force behind their propellants were powerful enough that they actually went right through the creature's hand and tentacles; disintegrating them completely as they streaked out and exploded against the floor or ceiling directly behind Nemesis. It was the opening the REVE-6 needed as it now brought its arms in against its now-helpless opponent. With the full force behind one punch, the REVE-6 jammed its rocket launcher right down the opening in the middle of Nemesis's chest; plunging it deep and all the way in – till it emerged out from the back with a burst of purple blood and gore.

But Nemesis was reacting to this all the time. It convulsed once…and then twice…and suddenly, its teeth grew larger…and then curved inwards. It bit into the REVE-6's arm and rocket launcher with full force; causing a shear on the weapon's exterior. The machine struggled to pull out the rocket launcher, but failed as Nemesis's grip was far stronger in this case. The mouth tightened and tightened; not letting go even as the machine brought the other arm around and beat at the mouth and teeth. Eventually the grip made it all the way through the machinery, crushing the metal exterior and biting through the rocket launcher almost completely. As the launcher came loose, the REVE-6 staggered backwards. It watched as Nemesis began to chew on the launcher, and then spit it out. The stumps of its hand grew back with even more writhing tentacles.

This was when it acted. Raising the remaining launcher, the REVE-6 fired directly at Nemesis. The range was close enough that it couldn't miss – yet not too close that the warhead wouldn't arm. The trio of rockets sailed out once more, spiraling outwards and hitting Nemesis right in the chest and sending it flying backwards. Nearly half of the creature's upper torso was gone, including its head. With that one blow, that one action, there was nothing recognizable left of the bio-weapon, save for half of the lower 'mouth'. Even as the form began to collapse to the ground, another explosion caught it – this time from a grenade that rolled down next to it. It ignited, sending a shockwave that passed over Nemesis's remains and drove it into the walls. The REVE-6 looked up at the source of the grenade. It had come from the group of four Replicas that now stood at the top of the ramp. One of them was a Heavy Armor Replica holding a rocket launcher, while the other three held weapons of varying types, including a Type-7 particle cannon. The Heavy armor replica lowered his weapon as he spoke up to the REVE-6.

"Sierra 12, what is your status? We lost radio contact with your squadron three minutes ago."

The REVE-6 slowly walked up the ramp towards the group. At the same time, it sent a series of chirps and clicks over the external speakers, since its radio was dead. The Replicas seemed to be able to understand this, however, as they nodded and replied.

"Affirmative. We'll notify Kappa squadron to investigate. We'll escort you back to command for repair. Lambda squad, assume escort position. Lambda two, cover my back."

"Affirmative sir. Do you want me to finish off the bio-weapon?" The replica with the Type-7 responded, giving a questioning glance to the heavy armor Replica as they moved to take positions around the REVE-6. The heavy armor Replica glanced back at the body of Nemesis, and then shook his head.

"Looks dead enough to me. We don't have much time left – move it!

With that, the entire group began to double time it up the ramps. They would be up and at the command center within five minutes, and the REVE-6 would be able to give the final report on the confrontation by then.

But even as they left, none of the Replicas noticed as Nemesis's body slowly began to twitch…and then, ever so slowly, the remains of the stomach began to grow. It grew to a certain size, before a slit opened up, exposing a blood-red eye that looked around and studied its surroundings. It once more whispered in a low voice; which was seemingly incomprehensible as it should have neither mouth nor lungs. Yet, to those that could hear, the word it whispered was absolutely clear and precise as the bio-weapon once more focused on its goal and objective.

Sadhal.

*****

Something tells me I should've called in sick in the morning. Jin couldn't help but think to herself, as she watched the corridor go by, the SPARTAN Kelly holding her up as if she was just a feather. Skipping the day had seemed like a really, really good idea when she had first not only been violently thrown out of bed by what was by all accounts a freak accident, but then gotten this a intense sick feeling in the pit of her stomach ever since breakfast.

Why does hindsight always have to be 20/20? Well…it could get worse…although imagining something worse than facing off against Alma, getting teleported through time, and then landing up on some weird alien ship would be rather difficult. She sighed, immediately regretting the action, however, when her chest nearly cramped up in pain. Her injuries had been severe, from the first crash, and then the second…she really didn't have a clue as to why she hadn't just died then and there itself – especially when Alma had come onto the chopper. Truth to be told, death really didn't seem all that bad right now. At the least, it'd end this god-forsaken day. Ghosts, aliens and now death itself chasing them…

Jin sighed internally; forcing her memories and the thoughts back. Now was not the time to be thinking about giving up…not when she had gone through so much. But even if she were to survive…then what? She was at least three hundred years in the future…her family was all dead, as well as whomever she remembered…add an alien invasion of Earth on top of that, and she really couldn't help but ask herself the same question over and over again: Where will I go? What will I do?

They rounded another corner, Kelly carefully turning Jin a bit such that they could fit through the narrow entrance. Looking behind, Jin could see John come through as well, after which the large blue alien was able to barely squeeze through as well. It backed down the corridor, though, keeping an arm up and ready in case anything came up from behind the group that was now headed…somewhere. Best guess was that the alien in front was taking them someplace safe…from the directions and the inclinations of the corridor, Jin estimated that they were descending further down into this alien ship.

These aliens…these Covenant, as the SPARTANS called them…Jin still couldn't completely believe they were real…but then, it seemed a bit hypocritical, considering that just an hour ago she had seen a dead ghost, as it were. Still, humanity being in peril and such danger was a rather hard pill for her to digest…especially considering that if she were to ever make it back to her own time, there would be little for humanity to look forward to.

Jin's attention was distracted from this, however, as they finally exited from the narrow corridors, entering a large and somewhat empty room with an elevator to one side, and several smaller niches to the other. It looked like a resting place of some sort – possibly for some smaller kind of alien; a fact which was simply proven as Kelly turned to her right, allowing Jin to see the bloody remains of…something lining the bottom of one of the niches.

"Looks like Alma got here already. Is the elevator working?" John asked, as he entered the room just behind Kelly. The elite didn't reply, but instead moved over to the elevator's control panels and started to manipulate them. As he did so, he spoke.

"It appears to be – primary power is offline, but the batteries are coming online. It shall finish in a few minutes. However, there is only enough power for it to be used once, considering how much weight we'll be placing on it."

John moved out of the way of the hunter as it started to stretch out after moving from the confined space. Jin could see the bits of orange flesh within the armor, and the way it moved on its own. She continued to look at the alien, her innate sense for biology fueling her curiosity – if only for a few moments.

"Does it go up to the bridge?" John asked, looking at the Elite. At the same time, Kelly moved away 0.from John, towards one of the empty niches in the wall. She kneeled onto the ground, and then placed Jin there as the others were talking. Kelly got up, wordlessly turning up and looking at the others. Jin was quietly grateful for this; even if it was just for a few minutes. Being on Kelly's shoulder wasn't exactly a very comfortable thing she had experienced. Kelly turned around, taking a few steps towards John.

"What do you ask for, Demon? This elevator is not going to the bridge – nothing is left there save for the corpses left in that little girl's wake!"

The Elite replied to John, his tone was hostile, and the undercurrent sounded significantly dangerous to Jin. She studied the Elite for a while…and then wondered, considering the shape of their mouth and the four jaws, how they managed to actually speak in English. Hell, just from their lack of proper tongue alone English – or any human language should have been nearly impossible for them.

I bet the folks back at home would love to get their hands on one of them for an autopsy. Hell, I know I would!

Jin thought to herself, shaking her head. She honestly didn't know what Alma had left behind on the bridge…and the truth was, she didn't want to. She had seen firsthand the remains that Alma had left behind in Armacham HQ and it had sickened her greatly. Jin had seen a lot of gruesome sights in the past – enough to make any ordinary person wretch…but what Alma could do…it still sent shivers up and down her spine. She couldn't imagine what Alma had done here, to this ship's crew. She couldn't imagine what Alma would do to her, for that matter.

Yes…death was definitely beginning to seem like a good option right now.

"Perhaps. But we don't have a choice – the artifact your prophet held will contain Alma."

John replied, his tone remaining calm as he looked at the Elite. Although his weapons were down, Jin could see him subtlety switch off the safety on the shotgun he was holding. Kelly seemed to acknowledge this, and did the same as well. To one side, the spikes on the Hunter's back seemed to bristle as the tensions rose. The Elite turned to John, and spat at him.

"She is your problem, human, not mine! I intend to get to the fighter bay and get off this vessel before she – or that infernal beast - gets to me! Whether you intend to remain here is not my problem!"

John's tone remained calm as he replied, slowly.

"What makes you think she'll let you leave just like that? Or indeed, the flood for that matter?"

The Elite seemed to be taken aback at this. He was visibly shocked; taking a full step back as he spoke, slowly.

"The flood? Onboard this holy vessel? But…how?"

John shook his head.

"I don't know. All I know is that unless we do his bidding, the Grave mind will release the flood onto – "

"Wait. You actually sided with the flood?"

The Elite cut him off with a hostile hiss, and brought up his weapon at the SPARTAN. Within a flash, John brought his shotgun up as well, pointing it straight at the Elite's head – the range was close enough that it would undeniably kill the elite in one shot, yet at the same time. Kelly turned around, and had her shotgun up, poking it right in the middle of the large hunter's orange gut. The hunter had reacted with equal speed, and had its massive cannon pointing straight at Kelly's face. The result, of course, was the last thing Jin wanted at this point of time: a stand off.

She groaned internally. Men… she thought to herself; remembering Sergeant Holiday's rather annoying demeanor.

"Somehow I knew you humans would be trouble…but going so far as to ally with those…things. It just confirms that I need to get off this ship before you kill us all!"

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." John replied, his tone held an edge of something to it that Jin couldn't place. Confidence? Determination? Fear? She couldn't figure it out. Instead, she sighed internally, looking at the group. She tried to remember how many bullets she had in the pistol...she had spent quite a bit in the firefight earlier, leaving her with only…one bullet.

Great. Hostile aliens, Replicas by the bucket loads, a scary girl ghost, the flood death and now this. And me with just one bullet…just great.

There was little she could actually do in this situation, save watch for the group argue amongst themselves as the standoff continued.

"Rather amusing, isn't it?" A new voice spoke up next to her. It was nothing but a low whisper, but the tone…the voice. The fact that she recognized it sent chills up and down her spine. A shadow appeared over her, blocking the already-low light of the room, and causing Jin to look up. Paxton Fettel's features were drawn up in the form of a grin as he stood there next to her, leaning against the wall and staring down at Jin. The eyes…they were different; holding something within them…it was almost as if she was staring at death itself.

I was wrong…things just got a lot worse.


****

If there was one thing that basic training had given her that Jin was ultimately glad for, it was battle-hardened instincts and reflexes. Within a second, her hand was up, with the muzzle pointing straight into Fettel's face. However, Fettel didn't even blink…almost as if he had been expecting that. The smile never faltered, either. Jin frowned, and spoke slowly, her voice just as even.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just take this one bullet and put it through your head, Fettel. And it better be a good one."

Fettel ignored the gun as he replied, his tone low and oddly, with a touch of curiosity in it.

"Ah yes…aggressive as always, Jin…and just as ignorant about the true nature of things, much like your friends there."

Fettel nodded towards the others, which were still in the standoff till now. Jin could no longer hear what they were talking about – with Paxton Fettel quite literally breathing down her neck, they could all go to hell, for all she was concerned. She switched off the safety, and was about to pull the trigger when Fettel rose one hand, stopping her.

"Before you waste your one precious bullet, I suggest you move that gun a little bit closer…if only to make sure you don't miss." Fettel smiled, much to Jin's annoyance. Still, she tried pushing it further; such that it would have touched Fettel's skull…had it been corporeal, that is. Much to her amazement, the gun went right through his head, as if it wasn't there…she pulled it out, to see the muzzle just appear out of nowhere…and then pushed it back in again.

"What in the name of…"

"You see, Ms. Jin…I have to keep my hosts safe, one way or the other, especially considering how aggressive either of your species are." Fettel looked up towards the other group – whom were still embroiled in the standoff. None of them had noticed Jin talking, or Fettel standing over her for that matter. Jin put down the gun down, but never let go of it.

What is he? A hallucination? Mind trick, perhaps? Must be some of that damn telepathy, I bet!"

Still, the question bugged her: what had he just said about a host? Could it be that it really wasn't Fettel that she was talking to right now…and if not, then what? She remembered vaguely what John and Kelly had told her about Fettel…and what he had become. Or rather, what had taken over him. She hadn't believed it all that much…but looking into Fettel's eyes suddenly made her a significant believer.

"Your probably wondering who I am, aren't you, and what I'm doing in Fettel's body?"

Fettel asked. His tone changed again, a curious edge to it once more. There was something behind that voice…a presence that felt extremely familiar…yet, so very strange at the same time.

"They say that you are death…is that true?"

Jin asked, somewhat hesitant. If it was true, and she was staring and actually talking to death itself…well, she really didn't know to be exited, curious, scared shitless or indifferent, considering their situation right now. Fettel didn't seem to notice this though, as his smile suddenly grew.

"Death, the Grim Reaper, Kali, Thanatos...your people have given me so many names as has theirs - "

"What do you want, then, death? I have no time for these games."

Jin replied, cutting Fettel off before he could continue. She was afraid of this…thing, yes…but at the same time, she didn't exactly intend to sit around and let it get the better of her. Fettel – or Death, in this case – stood up, crossing his arms and then giving her an odd expression. It was a cross between anger and curiosity, and really looked out of place on Fettel's face.

"Games? I assure you, Ms. Jin I hardly play games…but you are right that you have no time…at least, no time left."

Jin frowned. What was he…

Oh god…oh god no. Realization of the implication hit her as she looked at the figure. She brought the gun up again, before she visibly moved back from the figure in alarm.

"If you think I'm just going to let you take me -"

Death raised his hand, cutting Jin off as he shook his head.

"You still don't understand, do you, mortal? I may be death…but know that I do not take any life."

"Then what exactly do you do?"

Death sighed, looking back at the others. They were surprisingly, still too busy to notice the exchange Jin was having. She turned to them, and then back up to death's face. Why don't they notice any of this? Jin thought to herself. Why were they just standing there and arguing? Didn't any of them see this, or at the very least her behaving oddly? She would've shouted out, but realized that considering they were all trained soldiers when they didn't notice her pointing the gun towards or away from them, they probably wouldn't notice a shout either.

Finally after what seemed like a long moment, he turned back to Jin, and spoke.

"What do I do? Where to start…where to start?" Death paused, and then, surprisingly, slowly sank to the ground, sitting in a cross legged position, facing Jin. He spoke slowly, the voice shifting slightly from that of Paxton Fettel's to something different…something that seemed familiar, yet completely alien to what Jin knew.

"Perhaps it is best to answer that with another question, Ms. Jin…what do you think you are?"

Jin was somewhat taken aback by this odd question. But she didn't hesitate that much as she replied, somewhat carefully.

"I am a human being…a woman, an individual, if you want to go deeper."

Death did not seemed to be satisfied with the answer though, and continued.

"An individual yes…a human being, certainly…but I would keep going even deeper…"

Jin frowned. What was death getting at? What was the point of all this? Why am I obliging it so damn much? she asked herself. It was maddeningly fustrating, to say the least. She was in too much pain, and had too little patience for these kinds of games and this much required patience. Her head began to throb as well, as she felt the start of a possible migraine.

My kingdom for a painkiller.

Still, she ignored the pain for now and tried to concentrate to the best of her ability.

"I don't know...the soul, maybe? A person's memories? I don't exactly have the focus to guess here, you know."

Death sighed once more, and glanced over Jin's body.

"A fragile yet incredible thing, the human body. Certainly not as tough as some of the other species out there, but it serves its purpose well enough."

He paused, shaking his head before continuing.

"You mortals still remain ignorant, though. Fortunately, that is why I am here to teach. What is your existence; your memories, and indeed, your soul made of? Indeed, what is all life made of, and originated from?"

Jin shook her head, indicating she didn't. Death only nodded slightly as it continued.

"All of life can be treated as a sequence of complex events and cascades…billions upon billions of them; some completely independent of scale, some born from said scale. Every individual that you claim to be alive is nothing but an incredibly complex combination of sequences exactly like those that make up the overall universe – save for the fact that they are far smaller in scale, and are placed within it."

"While fascinating as it may be, such a concept isn't exactly new…." Jin pointed out. Technically, she was right – such concepts were much discussed in many a philosophy class, and was hardly new to humans. However, what was disturbing was that death itself was confirming it to her. Such an opportunity and knowledge would drive people to kill just to acquire it…and yet here Jin was, ironically having it forced upon her by Death itself. The Doc would really get a kick out of this…pity he isn't here, though.

"Perhaps so…but you still haven't connected the dots, or consider the stage where I lie."

Death replied, looking away from her.

"Let me guess…the end of the cascade, the sequence of events?"
Death shook his head.

"Not exactly, no…for no sequence ever dies, nor does it ever end…it simply changes; shifting the environment it has enmeshed itself in to another, and then going from there. It is from these transitions that my own cascade originated; and it is from these transitions that I have gained life. I do not take anyone – simply because I don't need to. I may be death, but I am not the destroyer of worlds that many claim me to be."

Jin didn't reply. She really didn't know what exactly to say to this relevation, though. Her mind raced with this new information…but the question still arose:

"What do you want with me, then? Why come here just to tell me all this?"

"Because you're new friend here does his best to try and fight me. He detests me for what I represent to him, and his people."

Death looked towards John for a moment, and then back to Jin

"But there is something you should know about him…the dark secret that he does not tell you; of not only himself…but of the other that he knows…the one whose guidance he had followed till now…and of what they have done to damn your entire species, and what they will do to damn you."

Now this piqued Jin's interest significantly…she glanced at John as well, but didn't look back at Death as she replied, slowly.

"Tell me more…"

Death's grin grew wider, and then began to speak.

***

The situation was tense…ready to explode almost. Neither side had given way to the other and nothing had changed. John still had his shotgun placed firmly near the Elite's head, while Kelly had the Hunter covered. The argument had kept on going back and forth; and John was about ready to call it quits.

Pity we never really learnt all that much diplomacy…but then, I don't think the covenant did either. John thought to himself, as he sighed internally. At the moment, neither party was speaking, each one waiting instead, for the other to tire or make a mistake. It was at this point of time, however, that John remembered that there was probably someone that could help sort this out…even if she was injured.

Out of the corner of his eye, John glanced towards where Jin was sitting. She was facing away from him, towards the side. However, he couldn't get a clear view of her from the helmet. Slowly, he turned his head to the side, while still keeping an eye on the Elite in front of him. Perhaps curious as to what happened to Jin as well, the Elite's gazed turned in the same direction.

What John expected to see was Jin, probably unconscious and lying to the side. What he did not expect to see, was her sitting down calmly, as if none of the stand-off was happening, and talking to death itself as it sat next to her.

What in the name of… John thought, before his instincts took over. He didn't glance at the elite, didn't turn his head away from the scene. Instead, he let his body move. Everything seemed to slow as he turned, bringing up the shotgun to where death was sitting.

"JIN!" He shouted, as he pulled the trigger; the blast exploding outwards and towards where Death was sitting. But even as he did so, death looked towards him, and then gave him a small, evil smile…before then just vanishing, leaving behind nothing but dust and ashes as the blast hit the wall behind where he was sitting, causing Jin to dive to the side, revealing a cry of alarm.

With the immediate threat gone, John looked back at the Elite…only to see that it had seized the opportunity. Kelly had been distracted as well, and the Hunter had barreled past her, and now moved past John as it headed straight for the lift upon which the Elite now stood. It got on, pointing the plasma cannon at the humans that could do nothing but watch as the Elite manipulated the controls and then just looked up.

"Go fight that horrible girl if you wish, Demon! But I intend to leave this Godforsaken ship before that wretched beast gets to me! Farewell, fools!"

With that, the control panel lit up and the entire lift began to descend down the shaft. The Elite and the hunter disappeared from view immediately afterwards. John cursed internally, but rather than let him affect it, he turned back to Jin, who was now recovering from the shotgun blast.

"What were you doing? What did he say to you?" John asked, kneeling down. Jin didn't look up as she replied, but the dark and angry tone caught John's attention almost immediately. It was strong enough that he decided to take a step back just in case.

"He told me about you. All about you…and what you are going to do, have done."

What is she talking about? John thought to himself.

"I am a soldier…as are you."

Jin gave a dry laugh, dismissing what the SPARTAN said.

"That's the same excuse you gave death." Finally, she looked up at the confused SPARTAN. Her expression was a cross between anger and slight amusement as she continued dryly. "You caused all of this…if you hadn't wanted to do your bloody duty so badly, none of this would've happened."

"Jin…" John began. But it was no use, as her face and expression changed all of a sudden, rage seeping in. "Don't Jin me. At the least Alma is predictable; stable compared to what you've become!"

Now John was really confused. What the hell was she babbling about? Had Jin finally gone insane? "I still have my sanity, and the worse I can do is kill you, unlike Alma."

Again, that short laugh, a snicker almost. Jin raised her pistol, but left the safety on. She waved it around as she continued. John made a mental note to check his shields, and found that they were fully operational, thankfully. So was Kelly's. The last thing he wanted was for any of them to get hurt by friendly fire.

"A lot better? I don't think so! At least Alma has the decency to just kill you painfully, if nothing else!"

This was starting to get dangerous. John had absolutely no idea what death had told Jin, but whatever it was, it had made her extremely unstable. He sent a signal to Kelly to go to Jin's other side and be ready to help restrain her.

"Calm down. What lies has…"

"Shut your pie hole! If theirs only one person lying here, it'll be you, especially after what you've done! Death has no reason to lie – not to me, not to you, not to anyone on this Godforsaken ship, John! The only people that refuse to believe it are you, because your so Goddamn blind to everything save for the duty that eventually damns you!" Jin cut him off. John's temper began to rise, despite his control. He was about ready to give the signal to Kelly, but didn't, instead indicating her to hold position.

"Jin. What did death tell you?"

Jin glanced at Kelly, and then back at John. She sneered at him, but didn't point the gun towards either SPARTAN.

"He told me the truth, nothing else. I'm not choosing between either you or her. It gave me a way out of all this mess – one where I don't need to worry about what you or Alma will do to my mind and body. I'd say I'd be seeing you in hell, John…but you've got a far, far worse fate in store for you, and those anywhere near you."

"Jin! What are you –"

Jin smoothly raised the gun to her own head, turned the safety off and pulled the trigger.

Crossroads of Fate - Continuation Chapter
Date: 4 October 2006, 3:43 pm

What did death tell her? What lies did she hear, that brought about such a decision? John thought to himself, as he looked at Jin's body and face. He studied her; as if the woman's form was a great mystery to him…and in a sense, she was. Wordlessly, John got up, glancing first at Kelly, and then towards the lift where the Elite had gone down. He shook his head sadly.

"What now?" Kelly asked. John didn't turn as he replied, calmly.

"Death will pay for this. We go the bridge and end it."

His tone was even and calm; yet it had a dangerous edge to it. Kelly didn't seemed to be perturbed by this, however, as she calmly glanced towards the corridor they had come from, before looking back at John. Her gaze was clearly intent, even behind the visor.

"What of the things she said?"

Kelly asked, nodding towards Jin.

"Lies. Death is determined to get to me, regardless of the cost…even if it means taking anyone else first."

Kelly didn't seem convinced by this reply, however. She looked at John, tilting her head to the side as if she was trying to see past him.

"Why would Death of all things, need to lie?"

John just shrugged. He didn't have the answers here, and even if he did, he was in no mood to give them. He didn't consider much of what Jin said; especially after what the Gravemind had told him earlier about Death. To him, it was just more delays…more ways to slow him down from his goal, his objectives, and to save humanity. John remembered, however, of how Dr. Halsey had warned him about being too dedicated to Earth and his duty; to forget about the individual soldiers he had fought with…to forget that he was still human. But the things at stake here and now…being human simply took a back seat when one's entire species was being threatened. It was too much for just the rant of an obviously insane woman to try and stop him.

"I don't know. You heard her, Kelly. She was clearly insane…she couldn't even tell us of what Death warned – if only to make sure it doesn't happen." John replied, turning away from Jin. Kelly only looked at Jin for a moment, again her head tilted to one side as she examined the dead body. Kelly stood there for a long moment. Unmoving, unwavering as John reached, and then walked past her towards the elevator.

"She didn't seem very insane to me."

The reply was low, and Kelly's body barely moved. However, as John glanced back, he could see and recognize that she was uneasy – possibly upset about this. Her tone betrayed nothing, but her body language; the way her fingers seemed to twitch almost…it told John all he needed to know. He turned around completely to face Kelly as he asked

"Is there a problem, Kelly?"

Kelly looked at John for a long moment, as if considering what to say. She clenched her fist once…but then let it go, and shook her head.

"No."

It was a simple word, and nobody else would have been able to pick out anything wrong about it. But Kelly's tone alone sent alarm bells ringing in John's mind.

"No, Kelly…if you have something on your mind, speak it."

Kelly looked at him strangely. For a long moment, a silence hung over the two SPARTANs and the corridor. It was uncomfortable…but finally, Kelly broke it as she spoke, slowly.

"I just can't help but have a feeling she was right…"

"About what I have done?"

"No…about you dooming us all."

John just looked at her for a moment, before shaking his head and shrugging. "We'll never know till it happens. If not me, then it'll be the Covenant should they find and activate the Arc. We need to get moving, Kelly."

Kelly paused to look back at Jin's body, before nodding. John breathed an internal sigh of relief. The conflict was hardly over; but for the moment it had died down. He turned around and moved towards the lift. John studied the shaft; thinking of a way to perhaps go up. The flashlight on his helmet came on almost unconsciously, illuminating the far wall. The light revealed a ladder that stretched both up and down the dark shaft. The light faded into blackness as he looked up, indicating that it was a fair climb to get to the top. It would also be a dark, dark climb – something he wanted to avoid, considering his last experience with the ladders.

Still, they had little choice – especially when the only other option was going back right into the middle of the Replicas and that…thing the Elite had fought. John shuddered internally just at the memory of it.

What has Death awaken in it's pursuit…what horrors has it unleashed upon us? John asked himself…only to find no answer. He sighed internally, before nodding to himself. He was about to turn around, when, suddenly, a blast of static hit his radio.

Oh God…oh God no.

Nobody listened to his prayers as just as suddenly, his instrument panel failed; along with all the lights in the room and even his flashlight. They flickered, coming back on for a brief moment, and then going off almost as immediately. The night vision in his goggles failed as well; leaving John completely blind. But his memory served him well as he whirled around, trying to find Kelly.

"Kelly?!" John called out, in hopes of getting a response. However, there was only silence.

"Kelly? Are you there?!" John called out again, but once more his questions were met only with silence. It was pitch black; forcing him to listen carefully. He heard the slight scratching his own metal boot made on the floor; the low, barely audible humm of the ship around him.

It was the last noise, however, that sent chills down his spine.

It was low, and John could barely hear it as it seemed to run away from him. The sound was that of a girl giggling…but it wasn't just any girl, or indeed, Alma, it belonged to a voice he recognized almost instantly.

Cortona?

Suddenly, a light came on in front of him. John took a slight step back backwards, bringing his shotgun up. He had to be careful though, as his feet were already near the edge of the floor, and almost to the elevator shaft. The single light was yellow in color, casting a soft circular spotlight onto the floor which, to John's relief, showed nothing in front of him. Then, for some reason, the light swung wildly from side to side; moving the spotlight with it and casting the area right in front him into shadow as it reached the apex. It swung back down, reaching the center once again…

Only to reveal, for the briefest of moments, the purple and blue figure of Cortona looking right back at him; eye to eye. She didn't say anything, didn't move one bit as the light swung to the other side, once again casting the entire area into shadow as Cortona disappeared.

"Cortona?" John asked, blinking as he slowly lowered his shotgun.

The light swung back; again revealing the area to be empty. He frowned, looking around for any other sign of what was going on. When he looked back, however, the light had slowed such that the illuminated portion now remained directly in front of him; in the middle of which directly stood Alma, looking up at him. John nearly jumped back in fear; but he caught himself in time as he raised his shotgun and opened fire at the little girl. Another blast of static hit his radio as his instincts and fear took over his reactions.

"Die! Die! JUST DIE!" John screamed at the top of his lungs Alma's form disintegrated once more into a pile of ashes. But even as she did so, he continued to fire at the position; the blasts causing a deafening roar throughout the room. The muzzle flash soon died out, however, as John continued to press the trigger, only to be met by a loud click as the shells ran out. Breathing heavily, and just standing there, John was frozen for a minute. Finally, after realizing that Alma was gone, he quickly started to reload the shells.

That was when the spotlight died; plunging him into darkness once more. But John didn't need the light to see himself reload. By the time they came back on, he was ready and looking around for Alma.

But as they did, his surroundings changed completely. John was now in a long, sterile corridor; the corridors made of old-fashioned cement and concrete, as opposed to the exotic metals of the forerunner ship. It wasn't very wide – enough for two men to walk through, at most. Half the corridor was clogged up in places by strange gurneys and trolleys – most of which were half rusted, and simply kept there, as if abandoned.

What caught John's attention most, however, was the blood on the walls…it was there in streaks and splatters – as if someone had been shot, and then had his body dragged across the wall. He looked at these surroundings, and raised the shotgun – half out of fear, half out of knowing what would come next. The only exit here was the door behind him – which he promptly found was locked, and the double set of doors at the other end of the corridor. The doors were a blue color, with a small glass window on either one. John took a few hesitant steps forward; keeping a lookout for Alma.

He continued on, moving the trolleys out of the way as he approached the set of doors. As he came closer, he could hear something from the other side. It was loud; high-pitched…almost as if a child or baby was crying. As he came closer, John recognized it as the distinctive wail of a new-born.

Where am I?

Then, suddenly, a face appeared on one of the windows. John took a step back in surprise as the lights suddenly went off; leaving only that cast from behind the face. John couldn't make out whom the face was; but all he could make out were the words it spoke to him, slowly and surely.

"It is the nature of man to make monsters..."

The light then went off; plunging the entire corridor into darkness. John was about to move when the flow below him gave way. He flailed around, attempting to find something to grab onto to, or slow his descent. John continued to fall for a full second before he finally hit something liquid. The Mjnolnir Armor created a massive splash as it fell right into it. The liquid filled half of the new corridor; while the splash had pretty much stained the ceiling with the liquid. John's flashlight came on suddenly, revealing the surroundings fully. Slowly getting up, he looked around, and then finally down at what he had fallen in.

It was blood. The entire corridor was filled in blood up to his waist. John wanted to move, to climb – to get away from it somehow. Still, he physically controlled himself, and looked around. There were another set of doors just a few feet away from him, past a trolley that was almost completely submerged. John waded his way towards the door, determined to get out of this…to escape somehow. He reached the door, was about to open it, when suddenly, something emerged from the blood right in front of him. A hand burst out from the calm surface, grabbing John's arm as a head and skeletal body emerged just behind it. The force behind the pull was too much for him to resist as the skull came right up to his helmet. It started shifting, changing as John watched on, his body frozen in sheer terror as he looked at the fully formed face in front of him.

The face was smooth, more normal than the rest of the body that looked back at him. What was most shocking, however, was whom the face belonged to. It was not Alma; Cortona –or anyone else John knew for that matter…save for the reflection he had seen in the mirror as a young boy…a face, he hadn't seen since he had first met Dr. Halsey so many years ago…since that faithful toss of the coin. The face spoke to him; the voice slow, barely audible. The tone was that of curiosity, with a touch of sadness to it.

"…and it is the nature of monsters, to destroy their makers. Which one are you…which one will you become?"

John blinked, managing to take a step back as the skeleton suddenly released him. As he opened his eyes, however, another form grabbed his arm at the same spot.
"John! Careful!"

This time he recognized the voice, and his new surroundings. Kelly was holding his hand, supporting and pulling him up. Glancing back, John realized that he was about to fall down the elevator shaft – and probably would have had Kelly not caught him.

"Are you all right? You fazed out for a moment, and about to fall…"

John just shook his head in response and gave a slight sigh. What did he just see? Had it been another of Alma's illusions? What that face had said…it somehow rung true; but John couldn't exactly place from where.

"Did the lights go out by any chance?"

Kelly only shook her head in reply. John nodded. "Then I really don't know. We have to get going…"

With that, he turned around once more, when he noticed something.

His motion tracker blinked once, and then twice. This was almost immediately followed by a loud scratching noise coming from the corridor they had entered from. A large red blip appeared on the tracker…no, not large – massive was the proper definition. John looked back at the corridor…only to see the most disgusting thing he had ever witnessed in his life. The form that crawled through the entrance, in the process taking it all up – was massive, to say the least. It was equally hideous; being nothing more than a mass of flesh and muscle, dragging itself across the floor by latching onto the walls with several tentacles and then pulling itself forwards. Each tentacle had a razor sharp set of spikes that was sharp enough that it left a hole in the wall. The main front of the mass of flesh had a gaping hole, around which lay several rows of razor-sharp teeth. A pair of large, lidless eyes, each as big as John's torso were present next to this; while several other eyes were present along the thing's long form. How long it was, though, John didn't know – it filled up almost the entire corridor behind it.

"Fire in the hole!" Kelly responded, not wasting any time as she lifted up her right, producing two of the grenades she had salvaged from their battle earlier. John took a step backwards and was about to turn around when, suddenly, one of the tentacles detached itself from the wall and with incredible speed wrapped itself around Kelly, pulling her towards it and eliciting a cry of pain from the SPARTAN.

"Kelly!" John shouted, raising the shotgun and opening fire on the Tentacle. The shell connected; tearing it apart and dropping the SPARTAN to the ground. But John could already see that it was too late – the razor sharp spikes had somehow managed to penetrate both the armor and the shields; exposing areas of flesh through which blood now oozed out.

John moved forwards, in a vain attempt to do something – anything to help Kelly. He couldn't loose another SPARTAN – not here, not now.

"Kelly!" He called again, advancing forwards and firing at the same time. The shotgun was having little effect on the creature, save slowing it down a little. But even that hardly did much as it latched onto the walls again, and pulled itself forward till it was almost at Kelly.

Kelly didn't respond, didn't speak, however. Instead, she just looked back at John for a brief moment. The helmet had been broken, revealing some of her blood-torn face and one of her eyes. She looked directly at John, the expression in her eye telling him all he needed to know. As if to iterate her point, she raised her right hand – which still firmly clutched both grenades…their pins removed, and both ticking away to detonation.

"John! Go! Go now!" she shouted once more, before breaking eye contact, and looking at the creature in front of her. John wanted to stay…he wanted to shout, scream at the thing to let her go. He wanted to do something to save her – regardless of what it would do to him. How many other SPARTANS had he seen die similarly; being helpless to do anything?

It was something John placed in the back of his mind as he turned around and made a leap for the ladder. Without wasting time to look back, he began to climb up into the darkness above him. He tried his best not to think of the fact that behind him, the Grenade's countdown time went to zero and a massive explosion filled the entire hallway. He tried not to think of the fact that everything that had been there – Kelly, Jin's body, that creature – was now filled completely with flame.

Most of all, John tried his best to avoid thinking about the fact that he was now alone…and once more the very last SPARTAN left alive in the UNSC.

The Crossroads of Fate - Continuation Chapter
Date: 27 January 2007, 4:20 pm

Writer's note: You can find the previous chapters here:

Previous chapter/continuation: 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


Sadhal smiled inwardly as the lift descended; uncaring of the fact that he had left the three the humans behind on the upper floor. If they wanted to continue with this mad…scheme of theirs, they were more than welcome to – but as far as Sadhal was concerned, though, they could go to hell and he'd be just as happy. He had little love for the humans save that they could have made good allies…but the sheer insanity of what they were trying had dissuaded him away from the thought.

Instead, he now focused on their destination: the Seraph fighter in hangar the decks below. He had programmed the lift to go all the way straight down. It was at this time that another problem presented itself as he glanced at the Hunter. Unless there was a drop ship, or at least something larger than a fighter, Sadhal would most likely have to leave the hunter behind. Realizing that letting the hunter know of such a thing probably wasn't a wise idea, Sadhal remained silent, considering the possibilities.

He would need a way to either get rid of, or dump the hunter somehow. He glanced at the large, hulking form next to him, and realized that it wouldn't be an easy task at all. However, this was only true if there was no drop ship…which Sadhal was pretty sure there should be. In either case, they would see – although the Hunters may be strong and powerful, they weren't all too bright.

The lift slowed, finally coming down to a stop. A pair of double doors opened in front of the pair, and Sadhal indicated the Hunter to go forwards. The Hunter only nodded and took a step forwards, while Sadhal kept a healthy distance behind it. The room beyond was much like the one they had left above; save that it had multiple exits and corridors going from it.

"Go left." Sadhal spoke to the hunter, remembering where the direction of the hangar was. He approached the Hunter from behind, keeping a sharp eye behind them as the doors to the elevator shaft closed slowly.

Sadhal looked back at the Hunter, following closely as the large beast turned into the corridor. He was about to say something; when instead a burst of pain from his arm cut him short. Sadhal looked down to see what it was, resisting the urge to gasp and shout in pain. Shock was added to this, however, as he saw the blisters begin to swell and grow on their own; straining against the armor on his arm.

By the prophets…what is happening to me? He quickly reached down and ripped the armor over the area off, to examine what exactly was happening. His entire arm had swelled up by now, and his fingers had gone completely numb. Yet, oddly, he could still move and wiggle them a bit. The pain suddenly stopped; but his arm remained swollen; sickening him by how it looked and felt. The Hunter turned back to him, giving a questioning glance. Sadhal just shook his head.

"It is nothing….just an injury. Keep going." He told the hunter, indicating him to move ahead.

That was when the entire corridor shook as an explosion could be heard from somewhere behind them. Sadhal looked back; but his mind didn't want to consider the possible source. Instead, he looked forward and nodded at the hunter.

"Faster."

With that word, both of them began to run down the corridor, and towards the Hangar. They passed a few empty corridors along the way, along with several intersections. It was at this intersection that something odd happened. As they were running through, time seemed to slow for Sadhal. The lights began to flicker once more; while a blast of static hit his radio. The intersection they were passing through had corridors to the right and left of them. Although he knew there would be little traffic amongst the corridors; he looked to either side anyway. The left was clear; only rubble and some ashes to the side.

Sadhal turned to look at the right, which was when his blood froze. The corridor stretched out from his right, ending only at another intersection almost six meters away. Their was nothing there…at least, till the light flickered off. It then came on less than a moment later, at which point he could hear soft giggle as Alma walked through the illuminated area, only to disappear less than a second later into a pile of ashes that slowly swept towards the floor.

That was when the Elite looked forward and increased his pace. His head turned to look towards the left hand turn of the next intersection. Time hadn't sped up yet, though. As the passed the next intersection, his managed to catch a glimpse of the corridor to their left – at which point, the lights and radio flickered once more. This time when they came back on though, Alma was not standing there. Instead, a large human male strode down the corridor towards them. His face was covered by the darkness, but the uniform was clearly blood-stained. As he walked, however, the figure spoke a single word that sent shivers down Sadhal's spine.

"Sadhal…"

It called out his name; the tone being slow and enticing – almost as if it were calling out to a lowly creature or companion, as it were. All the effect had was to make Sadhal push harder, and run even faster than before. He came pretty close to impaling himself onto the Hunter's spines ahead of him; and had to dodge a bit to the right. The hunter kept on running though – had it noticed Alma as well? Or indeed, the strange individual just now?

Sadhal just shrugged the thoughts from his mind and instead focused on the direction they were going. A full minute later, they reached the double doors that led into the hangar. Both of them slowed down as they approached the red marks on the door – which, fortunately, were more traditional ceremonial markings as opposed to blood or such. Neither door opened at their approach, however. Sadhal moved towards the console to the side, entering his access codes and unlocking the door. It gave a soft click before smoothly opening to the side, and revealing the hangar beyond.

Unlike most other Covenant craft, the hangar on the Forerunner vessel was limited to only a single level and three large, very spacious bays. The walls surrounding the bays were different from the corridors they had just come from; with it being more of a dark grey on black pattern. To one side of the hangar was another set of doors, leading to the small control room near the top of the bays. Just past each of the three bays as a large blue force field that held out the storm outside. Each one could easily fit a covenant drop ship or gunship for repairs and boarding. However, much to Sadhal's dismay, neither gunship nor dropship lay in any of the bays. Instead, in the central most one, right ahead of the door lay the small, tear-dropped shaped figure of a Seraph fighter.

It was not the fighter, however, that was the most eye-catching thing in the entire room. No. That right belonged to storm that raged outside the force field. Dark and almost fluidic in nature, it mesmerized Sadhal almost completely, as it did the hunter. The way the clouds and the lightning moved…it almost seemed as if the storm were alive – reacting their presence as well. For a long moment, Sadhal stared into it as the clouds formed, dissipated and formed again.

That was when he saw it. It had come and gone by so fast that for a moment, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But it had seemed too real for it to be an illusion. For the briefest of moments Sadhal had seen what he thought was a face in the clouds; one that had looked back at him straight in the eye. Sadhal look a step back, and gave a slight gulp. Such things weren't possible…but then, considering what he'd seen thus far…could it be? There was no way to be sure.

He shook himself, putting the thought aside for the moment. If there was something in the storm, it couldn't be as bad as staying here. Besides – if the Forerunner ship had survived with no problems thus far, then a Seraph would work just as well. Looking around, he decided it was a priority to get out of the storm as soon as possible. Glancing at the hunter, he realized that he'd need to stall the large beast somehow, otherwise he wouldn't get a chance to get onto the fighter, much less fly it out of here in one piece. Looking up towards the control room, an idea formed in his head. Nodding to himself, Sadhal turned towards the Hunter.

"Stay here and guard the door, I'll be right back."
The hunter only gave a slight nod in reply and moved off the door, bringing up the fuel rod gun towards it. Sadhal headed off towards the far-off door leading to the control room. As he approached, they opened, revealing a small lift much like the one they had just come from. Stepping onto the elevator pad, Sadhal pressed the controls to take him up and turned around towards the door. He smiled briefly as the elevator moved towards the top. This should be relatively easy, to say the least. There was a sentry gun that could be activated from the control room, if he remembered correctly – although not very powerful, it would probably be enough to kill the Hunter if applied properly.

This should be simple enough…worst comes to worst, I can shut down the force field and throw it out. It was a risky proposition; as the fighter could just very well be dragged out…but if it came down to it, at least Sadhal now had a plan 'B'. In either case, there was no other option but to get rid of the Hunter – such a large beast wouldn't fit in the fighter – at least, not with Sadhal inside.

The lift reached the top. Sadhal's smile just grew as he took a step forward; coming one step closer to getting off this ship. The doors opened to either side, revealing a section of the small control room. Unlike other areas, this one had but a single level, and a row of consoles towards the other side near where the windows were. There was little other furniture save for a few chairs.

Sadhal was about to step forward, when a sharp pain once more rung through his arm and shoulder. He staggered; nearly crying out as he leaned against the wall with his good arm. Looking at the previously swollen arm, he was alarmed and even somewhat disgusted to see the entire thing had become even more grossly swollen than before – worse; the swelling had now reached his shoulder, which bulged out horrendously underneath the armor. He carefully took off the armor as the skin there was sensitive to the touch.

What in the name of the prophets is happening to me? Sadhal asked himself. The arm had become like this ever since that accursed beast's blood had…

Oh God... his mind froze in it's tracks as he thought about it. Could it be? Had the thing's blood infected him? But how was it even possible? Sadhal kept asking himself that question as he cast aside the armor towards the floor. He looked at the skin on his shoulder and arm as best as he could. It had gotten a horribly ugly tinge of yellow all over; with several veins sticking out plainly.

Sahdal watched in horror, however, as the arm suddenly grew larger right in front of him! The swelling increased, and the flesh moved as if it had a life of it's own. A moment later, the pain hit him, causing him to stagger and go onto one knee as he gave a rather loud cry of pain. His eyes shut automatically as what felt like a red-hot flame crawled up his back, neck and then finally into his head. Sadhal could feel the blood pressure increase as it pumped up his neck and into his brain. His cry soon became a scream as the pressure increase; his entire head coming very close to feeling like it would explode. His arm similarly grew in size, the very skin feeling like it was constricting and holding back something.

Then it stopped.

The pain just stopped, suddenly, leaving him panting and heaving as the pressure died, his skin stopped crawling. Sadhal opened his eyes – only to end up becoming extremely disorientated as he saw not just in front of him…but oddly, himself as well. Sadhal blinked…but the odd sensation still didn't leave him…and the fact that he could still see himself. Frowning, he tried to move the arm to see if he could still feel it. It moved…as did the view of himself.

That was when Sadhal opened his eyes once more, and looked down at the swollen arm…only to see in shock and horror, as a large, lidless eye in the arm stare back at him. He could strangely see through the eye, but had absolutely no control over it.

Help…I need help. he thought to himself. This simply wasn't possible…this just couldn't be possible!

Yet, it was. Deciding not to let it get the better of him, or indeed, let it stop him, Sadhal moved forwards, trying to get used to the disorienting affect of having another viewpoint added to his own. The doors parted again as he stepped in front of them, and then into the corridor beyond. However, Sadhal heard a soft click from either side of him as he did stepped past the doorway.

"FREEZE"

A human voice shouted out from his right, and Sadhal did exactly that as no less than three shotguns pointed right at him from either side. Looking from the corner of all three eyes, Sadhal realized that there were humans in the room…humans!. They were dressed somewhat similarly to what the other human he had met earlier had been. As he looked on, Sadhal realized that they had barricaded themselves inside the room…almost as if they had been waiting for him, or indeed, someone to come this way.

"Drop your weapon and raise your hands!"


One of the Replicas spoke up – this time from his left. The carbine went clattering to the floor as raised his arms – including the swollen one. One of the Replicas came closer, and kicked it aside. The Replica on the left didn't lower his shotgun, however, and instead nodded.

"Move away from the lift compartment, turn to your right and move slowly towards the chair."

Sadhal could do little bit comply. He turned to his right and walked towards the wall. The Replicas in front gave way, but kept their shotguns up as he slowly walked towards the indicated chair. In the background, he could hear one of the Replicas as they spoke into the radio once more.

"Command, this is Tango three. We have apprehended target three; he appears to have been infected by the bio-agent, however. Please advise on new orders."

"Sit down." One of the Replicas ordered. Sadhal sat down, looking at the room while the Replicas took position to cover him. There was no way he could fight against these odds and come alive – probably not even with the Hunter's aid. A thought ran through his mind, though: where had these humans come from? Had the Demon brought them aboard? No, that couldn't be possible. If that machine he had seen earlier belonged to this force, which meant the Demon was probably against them as well. The weapons they held were unfamiliar as well, adding to the entire mystery. More importantly, however, was the question of why he apparently was a target for them. Confusion and fear went through Sadhal's mind as he looked at the Replicas, keeping an eye out for any opportunity to escape.

"Roger Tango three. The commander has engaged target two and will not be able to come to your location immediately. Keep watch over target three…if he mutates anymore…kill him."

Sadhal just stared at the Replica in fear and shock. If he mutates anymore? The memory of the pain still lingered on in his mind – Sadhal didn't want to go through that again – much less have it continue till his flesh was no more. He'd much rather be dead than let that happen again.

"Roger that Command. We'll keep a close watch. Tango three out."

The Replica that had been talking on the radio turned and looked at Sadhal, while the others simply fanned out and took watching positions. He didn't say anything however – none of them did. He couldn't make out their eyes beneath the visors, but Sadhal knew they were staring at him…whether be it in disgust or otherwise, he didn't know, though. Rather than find out, though, Sadhal bided his time. He would watch, and wait…just like he had when captured by the Brutes. His opportunity would come. Glancing at the arm once more, Sadhal gave a slight prayer that it would at least come soon, if nothing else.

Crossroads of Fate Continuation Chapter
Date: 21 April 2007, 7:03 am

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."

Crossroads of Fate Continuation
Date: 7 June 2007, 4:57 pm

Writer's note: This is continuation of the previous series. To find it, simply search for The Crossroads of Fate, either here, or on fanfiction.net (whichever one suits you). The story is approaching it's end/climax and will be over soon. Hope you've had as good a time reading this as I've had writing it =)


Master Chief John 117 knew that to say that time had slowed would've been an utter lie. Even when his combat abilities had been at its best, time always seem to go by incredibly quickly. Every moment he lived seemed to have been too fast in a way. The moments when the he had watched the other SPARTANs perished passed by too fast to comprehend or act in any way to save them. The quiet moments between the missions had gone by too quickly as well, even though all they had done was train during that time. Training or not, it was a peace that ever warrior cherished, and knew would always pass by too quickly.

Funny I'd be thinking this at a time like this.

John thought to himself as he watched the doors open, ever so slowly. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, while his hands tightened their grip on the shotgun in preparation. His mind ran through a dozen possibilities of what may come in next, studying the room they were in. The area they were standing it was little more than an over-grandiose doorway. The walls were wide, yet the only feature on them was the single door that led to the bridge. Beyond the door were numerous hordes of Replicas – more numbers than John would've ever hoped to face.

Yet, now he had to get past them. As the doors opened, he gave a quick glance to Gravemind. The figure now had a grenade in hand, and his arm was already swinging forwards to release it. His other hand came up and the loud roar of the pistol filled the air as Gravemind fired. Without another thought, John's hand reached for the last plasma grenade on his belt. It was all he had left in terms of explosive ordinance – best to make it count.

"Look out,Grenade! GET DOWN!" The echo came again, once over his radio and then from in front of him as Gravemind's grenade went out. He was forced to duck back however, as the space he had been standing in was suddenly filled with everything from HV rounds to grenades and bullets. John was about to lean forward and toss his own grenade in, making use of the distraction when his eye suddenly caught something, forcing him to pause.

Clattered on the floor, not three feet away from his foot was the assault cannon. The memory of the explosive rounds suddenly played in his mind, as a plan formed.

"Cover me!" John shouted towards Gravemind, before quickly reaching down towards the cannon. He gave a quick glance at the figure; there was no acknowledgement of the fact as Gravemind ducked out of his cover, let loose a blast of fire with the pistols and then dived right back in again as several red beams lit up where he had been. John followed their trails, grimacing as he saw the red molten scars they left on the other wall.

"We've got them! Heavy armor to the front! Advance!"

The shout came out. John ignored it, instead focusing on the task at hand. A loud bang interrupted him however, as a nearby ventilation cover suddenly burst out from the wall to his right. His head snapped around to the source, fearing more of the melee replica. His fear was unwarranted however, as several flood forms leaped past him and towards the open door. Infection forms scuttled about below them, intent on following their larger cousins. The scraps of Replica uniforms on some of the larger bodies chilled John to the core though – regular Replicas were dangerous enough on their own, but flood infected ones? It was a thought that was better left unsaid.

One of them suddenly stopped in front of John, looking at him for a long moment. John could do little to stare back at the horribly mutated and rotted flesh. A blob of muscles and tissue was where the head used to be, but just by the way it seemed to move and turn, he knew it was looking right at him. It right arm had grown out; changed into several writhing tentacles; each of which seemed to have a mind of its own. The left arm was intact though, and John could still see the armored shoulder pad on it.

Something on the pad caught his attention. His HUD zoomed into it almost immediately. There were words written on the pad, in minute detail, along with a small symbol. It simply read "Property of Armacham". For some reason John couldn't really phantom, the words seemed eerily familiar. It was almost as if…he had read them somewhere before?

Déjà vu?
Before the thought could get any farther, the flood form shook suddenly, reaching out with the intact arm. Looking down, John noticed what it was holding out towards him: two thermal grenades and some wire. He glanced to his left, towards Gravemind, who was simply looking at him. The mask simply moved down a bit, in a slight nod. John just nodded back before taking the grenades.

"FUCK! Command, we've got Flood! All units, open fire! OPEN FIRE!"

John ignored the radio message, and the result hail of fire that quite literally ripped the front-most infection forms to shreds. The sound of a minigun charging up came just a scant second later as the entire doorway became full of bullets another second after that. John didn't focus on that either, though. With a single swift move he ejected the assault cannon's ammunition cartridge before throwing the cannon itself to the side. His hands seemed to move like a blur as he placed the thermal grenades to either side of the cartridge, tying them up as best as possible with the rope. Within a few seconds, he was done, hefting the somewhat heavy explosive device in his right arm.

"Is that the last of them? Echo one and two, recon in force. Bravo team provide fire support. Advance!"

The minigun's firing suddenly died down. John's head snapped to the door, realizing what had happened. In front of the door, in a bloody, gory green mess lay the remains of at least a dozen or so infection forms. His gaze went towards the far wall, which now lay shredded in pieces from the sheer volume of fire that had emerged from the door.

He glanced back at Gravemind. The figure lay crouched next to the wall on the other side of the door. Without a word, he quickly stepped forward and stuck the plasma grenade onto the cartridge, activating it and then tossed it with all his might into the corridor beyond.

"RUN!"

John shouted, turning around and diving for cover.

"WHAT THE F-"

The sentence was cut off by the sound of a massive explosion that was strong enough to shake the entire ship and rattle John's bones even in his armor. The doors that were beginning to close behind him exploded outwards; moving at such velocity that they broke through the already-damaged far wall with ease. The result was another secondary explosion, possibly a leaking fuel line or something similar. The wall exploded out, away from the inner room, but the only thing it revealed was the sound of air rushing past him.

Hull Breach!

The thought rang through his mind, only to be confirmed as he glanced back. Apperantly, this section of the wall hadn't been really thick or armored from the inside for that matter. The sound of rushing air sent a sick feeling down John's spine as he scrambled to the side, fighting against the surge of air that rushed out towards the breach, while at the same time looking for anything to hang onto. He managed to reach one of the fixed tables before being overwelhmed, grabbing onto the flat top and hanging on for dear life. Glancing back, he noticed Gravemind had found a place as well – a shaft cover that seemed to be fixed in the wall as well. As he continued looking on however, John realized the Replicas weren't as lucky.

"HULL BREACH! HANG O – YEARGH"

The cry of pain came through the radio sharply as John saw a figure suddenly fly forwards from the doorway and towards the breach in the wall. The dead bodies had already flown off, with whomever was left surviving hanging on. Another body went by – this time one of the larger heavy replicas with the shield. He seemed to abandon the shield and minigun, instead reaching out with both hands to grab onto a piece of the floor. He hung there for a brief moment, feet up and seemingly like he would be able to hold on. That was when a loud screechingsound could be heard, and it came into view.

The mere sight of it froze John's blood in place. The huge monstrosity that was being slowly dragged out of the corridor by the vacuum resembled an REV-6 in it's build and general shape. However, its size and grey outline dwarfed the smaller power armor significantly, while the rockets it wielded on each arm somehow seemed far deadlier.

Still, power or not, even it couldn't resist the force of the air pulling it towards the breach. It squatted low, trying it's level best to gain a secure footing on the ground – but the fact that the ground was covered in slippery flood remains helped little. John wasn't surprised at all as the thing suddenly slipped and crashed head-long into the heavy armored replica, ending up throwing both into the space beyond. For several moments, John could do little but hold on and watch whatever Replicas had survived fell into the breach one by one. His arms didn't give way one bit, but they were already tiring from holding the half-ton armor. The table was slowly starting to give way as well, creaking and groaning from supporting the chief's weight.

Where the hell are the force fields?

John thought to himself. A forerunner ship like this ought to have force fields to contain a hull breach…yet, there seemed to be none. The source became all to apperant however, as a sudden burst of static went across his HUD and radio. A short giggle came from his front where his hand was on the table.

His head shot up, looking at the source even as a shiver went down his spine. The time span had been less than an eye blink, but it had still been too slow. One moment, the lights were on and John could see Alma's form on the table. The next, they went off, before coming back and then there was only ashes left, that slowly drifted to the table.

The rushing of wind suddenly stopped as sirens blared out in the background. John hesitantly let go of the table, stepping back from it. He turned around to look at Gravemind, who now took an unsteady step forwards. John took a few steps forward towards the door and then peeked in. It was completely empty – any surviving Replicas had been thrown out in the breach. His radio crackled as a voice spoke up.

"All units, retreat to the bridge and barricade it; the commander is waiting there."

Looks like their on the run

John thought to himself. This would end at the bridge, one way or another.

Turning around, he looked for Gravemind, finding him standing just on the threshold of the breach. John's gaze wandered from to the…space…outside?

What…what in God's name is that?

His mind reeled back at the sight that confronted him beyond the threshold. The flicker of the force field did little to conceal the nauseating blue, black and white vortex that seemed to be present there. The swirling black clouds of thunder from earlier had gone, replaced by…this? Whirlpool? Space? John didn't know what to call it as he watched, mesmerized by the flashes of lightning that arced across the sides of the vortex. It was like a tunnel almost; the walls constantly turning around a center far away on the horizon. It rotated both ways and seemed to have many layers, the nearest being the brightest and most visible, while the outer ones being incredibly dark. Even in that darkness and distance though, John could see things moving back and forth; darting from his vision like living creatures.

The frightening part was not that though – but the fact that it seemed to call out to him. It was like a symphony, calling out to him…calling out for his voice to be part of their own. It was terrifying, yet so beautiful at the same time. He walked forward towards the threshold, coming up next to Gravemind.

"What is that?"

John asked, his voice full of awe as he looked on, mesmerized.

"Death. We are in its realm now…" Gravemind replied. There was an echo in his voice; again striking that feeling of Déjà vu in John's mind. It was maddening in a sense.

I've been here before…but I don't remember ever seeing this anywhere in my entire life.

As he took another step forward, his radio suddenly became active. His HUD immediately identified several radio signals; coming in at a variety of frequencies and origins. There were hundreds – no thousands from what he could see. There were probably more, but his HUD could only list so much. It automatically picked up on the nearest one, and a voice broke through, static-ridden. The tone was incredibly panicked, the person speaking clearly in distress.

" Mayday, …day! This…Kappa 3 of the 107th Ravens, GTD Aquitaine! Do you cop…"

The signal suddenly cut out in a burst of static that made John wince a bit. His mind swarmed with questions, but before they could get much thought, the Radio pitched in again as another voice spoke up. This time this one was female, and again there was a distressed tone behind it.

"This is Dr. Marie Dalcroix of the UNN Von Braun. We have…hijack…by an unkn…source. Ship's security has been compromised Do not…., I ……..do not let this...leave under any circumstances. I do…."

Again, the source cut off in a burst of static. Before John could do anything though, a third transmission came through. Even before it could finish, others came through.

"Oh God someone help us! This is the cruiser liner Valley. We're under attack and being boarded by Reavers! Someone, please he – OH GOD THEIR HE-"

"Mayday, mayday! This is the USS Pensacola, we're under attack by Dominion forces and request immediate assistance. Is anyone out there?! We're under at-"

"Valley Forge, this is Echo squad. The bugs have got us pinned down – we need immediate assistance! Valley forge, can you read me? Can ANYONE rea-!"

"Someone get us a goddamn transport! GDI forces have swarmed all over Ayer's rock and we need extraction on the doub – Oh God… ION STRIKE INBOUND! Everyone get to co-"

"This is UEF Colony delta to anyone that can hear us. We are under attack by Aeon forces and have no defenses online! We need assistance immediately otherwise we'll be overrun! Can anyone hear me?"

"This…is Captain Keyes....someone…someone help me please. The flood…I finally figured them…I kno - "

Keyes! The thought rang through John's mind. But Keyes was dead – how could he be receiving the transmission here? Before he could listen any further though, a hand reached out and yanked him away from the threshold. John spun around immediately, coming face to face with Gravemind once more.

"Answers are a rare resource. You don't get your share just yet."

The voice seemed different this time; more determined and edgy…as if there it was anticipating something close at hand. He was about to give a sharp reply, but then thought the better of it. Instead, John simply gave a slight nod, and sighed internally. He shook his head towards the threshold and the vortex beyond. The messages he had received…none of them made any sense. He didn't recognize any of the organizations or names. None of them were UNSC at any rate…or from this universe – save Keyes' transmission.

"What were those messages I picked up? Who were they?"

Gravemind simply looked at John for a moment before replying calmly.

"This is death's realm – it connects to many, many others. The voices you heard were the echoes of the dead or dying. There is nothing we can do for them – their fates are sealed as far as we're concerned. We must go to the bridge."

Gravemind simply turned around, and began to walk towards the doorway and the corridor beyond. John glanced at the Vortex one more time, before turning back and following. It was then that a thought occurred to him: how had Gravemind known about the voices? Although he had a radio too, some of the transmissions had been on bands that only his armor would've been able to receive – especially the last one, with keyes. It was an interesting point to note...one that he kept in his mind for later.

They walked through the corridors leading to the bridge; it seemed almost like a maze to John, forcing him to follow Gravemind, who at least seemed to know where they were going. His mind longed for Cortana's reassuring presence. Unfortunately, she was many worlds away from the looks of things.

They came to a corridor with an intersection to the left that seemed to lead to the bridge. But at The junction had a large pool of blood, one which would've sickened him any other day – but now, after all that he had seen thus far? John barely even blinked as they turned the corner to see the pile of skeletons that could only have come from Alma's doing.

The pair didn't even give it a second glance as they walked through the corridors, and finally came to the door leading to the bridge. Gravemind paused just before the threshold though, leaning a bit to the right, as if listening for something. He turned back to John finally after a moment and spoke. His voice had tenseness underneath it; an excitement that John found disturbing in a way.

"This will end here. It will finally end."

He raised both pistols and nodded. John simply nodded in reply, placing a shell into the chamber and raising his shotguns.

"Let it end then."

With that, Gravemind simply turned around and stepped forward. The doors opened, and they charged in.

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