Hello, and welcome to my first foray into the realm of fanfiction. Thank you for viewing my first story on the site. I am not a shareholder in Bungie, 343 Industries or Microsoft, so I own no rights to the Halo franchise whatsoever. However, this is just one thing I wanted to have on the site, seeing as I have yet to see a story of this plotline.
Remembrance
He looked down upon them. He looked down upon his men, and the demon slaughtering them. He looked down with disgust, and a grudging respect. He looked down with disgust upon the demon. 'Filthy, disgusting animal,' he thought. The grudging respect came from how it so efficiently decimated his forces.
He could no longer simply observe the slaughter of his forces. He opened a comm channel, and announced to all, "Fall back. I will put this demon down myself. I have yet to see a worthy challenge on this accursed planet."
Noble Six knew something was wrong. Covenant never retreat. Especially not the fanatic Elites.
But they were.
They were retreating at full speed, as if from a demon. Six allowed an inward chuckle at that, turning about and looking down at the weapon in hand. The Spartan knew of the threat level given by ONI to the "Hyper-lethal Vector." It seems the Noble had established a reputation amongst the Covenant on Reach, as well.
When Six next looked up, a look of surprise crossed the young Spartan's face, completely unnoticeable due to the polarized faceplate. A lone Elite, in black armor similar to that of a Minor, was approaching. It was walking toward the Spartan at a slow, deliberate pace. Six, perplexed by this yet unseen behavior, merely watched the fanatical alien approach.
'This is most unusual. Why has the demon not yet attacked?' This thought ran through his mind as the demon became more vivid through the now swirling dust. 'Surely I have been seen by now.'
Six, who was still perplexed by the Elite's behavior, came to a sudden realization. The Spartan was tired. This translated into a noticeable slump in the soldier's posture. Noble Team was no more. Another team of Spartans lost. Another failure. 'No. I got that AI out. That was a success.'
'But at what cost?'
'I was hoping for a good fight,' he thought. He then pulled out two Energy Swords, dropped one at the demon's feet, and back away a few paces.
"I suppose I have one more good fight left in me," it said. He allowed himself a mental grin.
Both of the warriors settled into a ready stance, and ignited their swords. Neither moved for a few moments. The demon made the first move, lunging forward in an attempt to stab him through his thoracic cage. He simply dived to the side, and rolled to regain his footing quickly. He swiftly made his approach, and made a powerful diagonal swipe down to the right. The demon ducked under it, and again attempted a stab at him, which was deflected by his energy gauntlet. The Sangheili and demon waged their battle, back and forth, offensive and defensive, for several minutes with neither gaining any headway. A few nicks were gained on both sides, but nothing enough to slow down the fighters.
After several more bouts, he finally got enough to remove the left hand of the demon. This did little in the end, as the very nature of the sword cauterized the new wound, and it was not the dominant hand of the demon. 'Finally, a challenge,' he thought. He had only ever seen the lowly Jiralhanae fight through severe and debilitating injuries. And he would never stoop so low as to seek out a fight with those treacherous dogs.
A few more bouts, and he received a light gash in his abdominal area. This actually slowed him, momentarily. The endorphins had yet to be released into his system to numb the pain. For this, he received another shallow slash across his arm. Luckily for him, he was ambidextrous, and so had no problem switching hands while waiting for his natural painkiller.
Another twenty bouts of stalemate passed, until he managed to disarm the demon with a twist of the sword in his hand.
'I lost,' were the two words that ran through Six's mind upon being disarmed. It was over. Here, on this abandoned plain, on an abandoned planet, one of the most skilled Spartans would die, forced to remain an unknown to the galaxy. 'I will not be forgotten!' Six protested at the notion. And so, the defeated Spartan did what first came to mind, and removed the battered helmet.
He simply stared as the demon removed the helmet. He had never seen the face of one. Not alive, anyway.
He was somewhat disappointed and shocked to see that this demon looked remarkably plain. It was so similar to all the other ilk, he was rather taken aback that it had put up the fight it did. Then, it spoke.
"I have two requests of you, Elite." The alien looked rather taken aback at this.
"Why should I grant you any requests?" the Elite answered. Clearly he was not used to this, and thought humanity truly lower than him.
"One, is to remember me. I even have a trophy for you, too," Six stated, plainly. The Spartan reached into the collar of the armor adorning the warrior, now battered and beaten, and removed all the dogtags collected during the battle, including the defeated Spartan's own. "I am Alex B-312. The others were my team." At this, the battered Spartan dropped all the dogtags but the sixth. "You personally did not defeat them, and they would wish to stay here. To stay a part of Reach." Six handed the remaining dogtag to the Elite.
"And your second request?" he asked. He seemed to appreciate the idea of a trophy to mark this victory.
Truth be told, he was genuinely surprised by this. This demon was accepting death. He never knew that to happen. The only human deaths he had ween were of cowards, but, even they may have accepted it mere moments before it claimed them, he realized.
"My second request is to be lucky enough to know the name of my killer, before I die," the demon spoke.
Was that respect he heard in its voice? Again, this came rather unexpected to him. He had only ever heard slander loosed his way by demons' tongues. He took his time before answering the demon.
"I am Thel 'Vadamee, Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice."
"Thank you." At this, the Spartan again slumped. All of the injuries of the past month were catching up. Pain lanced the Spartan's face, as the endorphins and adrenalin began to wear off.
Thel saw the pain beginning to affect the demon, and decided to put it out of its misery. He had the victory he came for. Anything more would border on dishonorable. He gave it a quick, relatively painless death. Unbeknownst to him, the seeds of doubt had also been planted by this demon. He now looked upon the warriors of the forsaken with a newfound respect. Of course, he could never admit to it, but he could acknowledge the existence of it to himself. In private. Left to himself, he would often catch his hand holding the trophy from his battle against the demon during the pursuit of the escaping human vessel.
A/N: This can either stand as a oneshot, or I can add another chapter based on the reception and reviews this gets. Again, thank you for your time, and constructive criticism is always welcome. As for the conversation, I decided that Thel would have a translator.
