Liberation In Death
Viewer Discretion is Advised. This work of fiction depicts Violence, Strong Language, and Adult Themes. You have been warned.
Cold. That's how this place felt. Cold and desolate. But this place had a sense of life to it, a rhythm. The solid thuds made this place seem human. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. A heartbeat. This place is no place at all, but a human heart. Why would a heart feel so cold? A heart should be a place of warmth. Whomever owns this heart is not of sound mind nor body.
Wind tugs at the short locks of this human. Scars riddle a war hardened face and bi-colored blue eyes gaze out emptily. A small nose dares to twitch and scarred lips part to produce a small cloud. The lips press into a firm line. White colored armor with accents of an ice color make up the rest of this human. The armor itself battered and worn. A simple MJOLNIR Mark V helmet is held in an armored hand, the other occupied on a hardcase. The feminine codpiece indicates that this human is female. Not only female, but a Spartan.
Tales tell of these large soldiers being the next step for humanity. Super-soldiers. Weapons and tools of the UNSC. Taken at a very young age for experimentation more commonly known as Augmentation. Subjugated to intense training and military discipline. What a life for a simple six year old child.
But this female is full grown, yet has the face of youth. She looks to be in her mid-twenties. She has the look of one much older in her eyes. The years of war that she has seen has made her so. She has seen and lived through the hell of the Spartan II Program, witnessed the brutality of Reach, and has seen the destruction that came with the Great War.
But here she stood, on a snow covered hillside monitoring the burning wreckage of a Frigate. Even from this distance she could see figures gathered in a small group. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and she looked over to see a smaller male. He wore his hair in the fashion of a mohawk. His armor mimicked that of the UNSC's ODSTs. He begins to speak to her but she holds up her free hand to silence him.
"I don't need any thanks. Especially from you. I also don't need your sympathy. CT was a friend. No more, no less. I help my friends. Now, go." she says in a monotone voice.
Slightly offended by the female's reaction he turns with an angered grunt and walks off down the hill. She didn't watch him go. She instead observed the group as they called out to each other, no doubt assessing wounds and checking for those who might be MIA. She turns to leave, casting one last glance at the wreckage. She places her helmet on but just before it completely seals, she feels a familiar warmth at the back of her neck as well as a familiar echoing voice call out to her.
"Lydia..."
Author's Note: Well here it is, the intro to the new version of my old fic which was titled: "Fallen Angels, Righteous Demons". I hope you enjoy this sort of teaser to the story. I say teaser because it's short but oh well. As always, never be afraid to leave a review even if it's just a simple comment. As Ellen Degeneres says, "Be kind to one another" and stay awesome!