He must be a really good actor if they can't see his pain. His siblings would've been able to detect his mood a kilometer away in the darkness of a new moon. However they were all dead. He was the last of a dying breed, but this breed doesn't go quietly. Alas, all they had on their faces were looks of awe. The mighty Spartan slayer of a Forerunner. Escaper of a Havok grade nuclear pavelow. He was a hero, a shining example for all to follow in his footsteps. But they wouldn't understand the way he got out. The way he escaped cost him something more than anything he had ever done. "Welcome home John." Those were the last words he heard from his other half. As he continued to look in upon himself as he walked down the halls to the armor removal stations. He sighed when he felt the armor coming off. Time to put the mask back on he thought. Then his face was as impassive as a mountain's slope when the helmet came off.