Hello There fanfiction! It's been a while hasn't it? My life has been hell for the last 10 months. But screw it, I'm back now!
This story is rated M for suicidal themes. If you don't like it, then leave now. Seriously, it's not…uhhh…Its… just terrible…
I don't own Reach, characters, destinations, yadda yadda yadda…
Please R&R!
Alex Dragoon, designated Noble 6, ran through an abandoned industrial district as blue plasma flew all around him. A banshee was coming fast and low, preparing to launch its plasma launcher at its prey. Alex, realizing its intent, took a quick right into an abandoned munitions facility as the green bolt impacted on the ground, leaving a crater where he had stood not two seconds before.
Alex ran through the factory searching for an exit. He looked right and saw a staircase. He headed up the stairs until he reached the roof. Once on the roof, Alex noticed that a Phantom had just landed on the roof, allowing the troops inside to disembark to search the facility. Among them was a large Zealot-class elite with an energy sword in his talons. The Zealot turned and spotted Alex, giving an irritated grunt as he started to walk towards him.
Alex cursed under his breath, but was undeterred towards his foes attempt to intimidate him. He increased his pace, trying to time his next move perfectly. The Zealot was now at a full sprint as is roared its battle cry and lifted his sword to strike. But, before the elite could deliver his attack, Alex leaped high into the air, landed on the elite's shoulders, pushed off and landed on top of the Phantom. Alex kept running and jumped through another window sill attached to a much larger facility used for making artillery shells.
Alex landed hard, and nearly tumbled down a flight of stairs as he realized he was in another stairwell. Alex got to his feet within the blink of an eye and dashed up the stairs. An explosion rocked the stairwell and Alex stumbled, but recovered and continued to dash towards the roof. The explosions were all around him now; Alex quickened his pace.
Alex reached the roof and saw the cause of the explosions. An entire fleet of Phantoms and Banshees were trying to bring the factory down on top of him! Alex raced across the roof tops as the building shook violently. He found his target, leapt as the stockpile of shells detonated, and fell.
Alex grunted as he impacted with the glass roof of the weapons depot. He continued to fall until he landed on one of the many conveyor belts. Alex got up slowly, gazing up at the roof to find that the Covenant were breaking off from the district, thinking their job was completed.
Alex sighed with fatigue and his legs buckled beneath him as he grasped at his chest with a yell of anguish. But his pain wasn't from plasma or fatigue, the pain he felt was the pain that he had felt throughout his tour of duty on Reach…
He was no stranger to this emotion, as he had felt it throughout his tour on Reach…
He felt it as he fell from orbit, watching as the portal from the spacedrive bomb destroyed the Covenant Super Carrier, and taking with it his good friend and teammate, Jorge…
He felt it when he fell back down to Reach as an even larger Covenant fleet entered Reach's space, ensuring that Jorge's sacrifice was futile…
He felt it as he ran through the city of New Alexandria, observing the brutal slaughter of many innocents and marines and the burnt out buildings that once used to be glorious in a bygone era of peace and prosperity…
He felt it when he held his second in command, Kat, as she died in his arms…
He felt it when His squad leader sacrificed himself to allow him and Emile to complete their mission…
He felt it when he saw Emile impaled on an energy sword, bleeding and hanging on the fringe of life and death, and as he pulled the trigger of his .45 magnum, the very that he held now, terminating his friend's life…
And he felt it now; he felt the gripping sorrow of weakness and insignificance as the sounds of distant battle rung throughout the area. He had failed….Humanity had lost Reach, their last line of defense before Earth. He was assigned to defend it, and with its fall, he had failed.
Slow, sorrowful tears slid their way down Alex's face as he slowly wept, the memories flashing through his war-torn mind.
He slowly looked down to his holster. Inside, it held his APC .45 standard-issue Magnum, the very same he had come to Reach with. He scorned at it; it was a symbol of his duty as a soldier to carry out his duties to the fullest extent; it was a symbol of his failure…
He took the gun from its place and raised his arm over his head as he prepared to throw the gun as far away as his remaining strength could muster. He couldn't…
Alex slowly lowered his arm back down to his side. He started crying more violently now. He brought his knees up to his face and he sobbed violently into him. He let the gun slide from his grasp as he brought his arms around his legs to keep them in place
After a few minutes of this, he finally managed to recover a semblance of his composure, but the thoughts and sorrow remained, more powerful and overbearing than he had ever felt.
He looked once more unto his symbol of defeat. He reached for it, picked it up, and slowly ejected the clip from the weapon.
Alex then pulled the chamber back, and out flew the large caliber bullet that is contained. He caught it mid-air with his free hand.
And he just sat there, staring at the brass shell. Several moments passed as he continued to stare at it.
And finally, that's when a certain thought crossed his mind.
He slowly replaced the bullet back into the chamber. He cocked the magnum, savoring the final moments of his pathetic existence. He then brought the magnum to his mouth…
"Don't worry guys, I'm coming for you..," Alex said. He closed his eyes one last time… A single tear drop slowly fell down his cheek… His finger pressed down on the trigger…
And then…Nothing
No pain, no sorrow, no…anything…
Alex opened his weary eyes to find himself in a never ending black prison. He slowly got up to his feet and surveyed his new environs.
He sighed an exasperated sigh, realizing the fate he had doomed himself to…
'I probably deserved this, all of it, for my failures as a friend and a soldier… I am nothing, and hence deserve nothing…' were his thoughts
It was then that Alex realized that there was a radiant light emerging from his hands. He looked down and gasped at what he saw…
Etched on both sides of his hands, in a brilliant yellow glow, was the number 6…
He examined his hands, twisting them back and forth to make sure he wasn't seeing things in his paranoia.
Alex looked ahead of him and saw a small droplet of light. The light seemed to radiate from somewhere deep in the bowels of this hell, taunting him…
It was then that Alex realized that the light was growing in size and magnitude and seemed to be heading for him…
The light grew brighter and more brilliant until the source of the light seemed to be right in front of Alex, bathing him in his holy glow.
Alex reached out curiously, trying to touch the light.
Four arms protruded from the light source, each one bearing a different number: 1, 2, 4, and 5…
He recognized those hands and the numbers that were etched onto them. Alex smiled as the light engulfed him completely…
He was back into the arms of his comrades once more. He once more felt the longing sensation of being wanted, loved.
Alex smiled at his friends as he embraced them once again, but not as a team, but as a family…
He was home…
Phew! Finally finished! It is currently 2:36 in the A.M. where I am, so I need to sleep!
Please R&R! I am open to constructive (not destructive) criticism!
Thank you!
With Hope and Best Wishes, Ovid's Sorrow