A/N: Hello! Once again, sorry for the delete and repost. Please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Microsoft, Bungie, or 343 Industries. This is for my enjoyment and, hopefully, the enjoyment of others. I do not receive a profit.

Prologue

Stephenson pulled his knife out of the still twitching corpse. He stepped over the dead Grunt and crouched behind a rock. Stephenson looked back at the trail of bodies marking his path through the heavy jungle. He was just glad that he hadn't found any Prometheans. His objective was to eliminate hostile forces and destroy the research station that had been built in the area. Stephenson wasn't sure what exactly the outpost was for, but it couldn't be good.

He peeked over the rock at the blue diamond marked objective. The outpost was made of that purple material that Stephenson knew some marines had dubbed Covenant Cocaine due to its almost addictive use by the Covenant. Stephenson himself didn't care that it was like a drug. All that mattered to him was that that alloy was bloody hard to destroy, and destroying it was his goal.

Luckily, it was a short fifty metre sprint from the rock Stephenson was crouched behind to the station. The plain was flat and Stephenson knew that if he had to, he could mark the station with his comm site once he got there. It was almost too easy. Getting up, Stephenson sprinted forward, a blur of white with gold streaks. His last thought before his armour's shielding flared as a wave of plasma washed over him was that it had been too easy.

After that he stopped thinking and just reacted. SPARTANs may have been taught that acting was better than reacting, but every now and then, they needed to stop thinking and just react so that they could get to cover and figure out how to take charge. All of the training on reaction drilled into Stephenson's head was just enough to save him. He rolled, dodging a hail of green plasma bolts. From there he ducked, dove, and dashed back into cover behind the rock.

Peering out a second time, Stephenson saw the jaws of the trap he had missed on his initial scan - two armies of Grunts, each army led not by an Elite, but by Hunters, four in total. Shit. Stephenson smoothly pulled the sleek Designated Marksman's Rifle off of the mag-clamps on his back and felt as his Heads Up Display integrated with the gun, showing a targeting reticle and ammunition in the gun. Lining up a Grunt on the left in his crosshairs, Stephenson pulled the trigger. The gun bucked, the Grunt collapsed missing half its face, and Stephenson calmly lined the reticle up with the next target. Bang! Two down, thirty-eight to go. By this time, the Grunts had figured out what was happening and were running in paroxysms of terror while the Hunters decided that it would be more prudent to just lob plasma at the rock.

Crouching behind the rock wouldn't work forever, Stephenson knew. Eventually, the Hunters would decide to take the initiative and storm the rock, so whenever there was a lull as the Hunters charged their cannons, Stephenson would pick off a Grunt or two. Three minutes later, he was out of bullets, but there were only three Grunts left. Oh well.

After swapping to the toy he had been saving, Stephenson did the second stupidest thing in his life, the position for most stupid having been taken by volunteering for this godforsaken mission. He charged the Hunters on his left. Stephenson had almost given up the hope for survival that he had had when the metal rod in his hand finally flared into an energy sword. Even though he knew it wouldn't do much, Stephenson swung at the Hunter slightly closer to him, a ghostly trail of plasma vapor hanging in the air behind the blade. The Hunter stopped to shield itself from the deadly plasma and Stephenson used that moment to dash round the beast and sever a huge knot of orange worms lurking at the back of the armour, where the protection was worst. Stephenson was about to congratulate himself for a job well done when the dead Hunter's bond mate roared and swung its shield at him. He went flying and crumpled like a rag doll when he landed.

Stephenson wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten lucky enough to survive when he came to a few moments later, but he thanked his lucky stars that he had. The Hunters clearly thought he had not survived the blow, so Stephenson activated the Active Camo unit equipped to his suit and berated himself for not thinking of it earlier. Crouching quietly up to the Hunter, he drew his energy sword and executed it with two deft swings. Unfortunately, the active camo unit chose then to fail and the other pair of Hunters was alerted of his survival by one of the Grunts. Stephenson ran up to the Grunt and snapped its neck, yanking the plasma pistol out of its grip as it died. Although not as effective as the DMR that he promptly dropped, the pistol could al least shoot.

An explosive bolt of plasma crackled a few centimetres away from his armour, and he ran for cover, shooting the newly obtained plasma pistol at the Grunts as he went. By the time Stephenson was safely behind cover, the playing field had reduced to just him and the other Hunter pair.

Activating the camo module, Stephenson crept out of hiding but quickly changed his mind when he saw the Hunters start charging their cannons. Now that they had figured out he had near invisibility, the Hunters were looking for it. Another great toy wasted. But rather than complain, Stephenson did what SPARTANs did best: he caused mayhem. All it took was a grenade near a pile of dead Grunts to ignite their methane supplies. The Hunters turned for just a second to investigate, but that second was all Stephenson needed. He ran forward and struck the closer Hunter across the back with a bar of plasma that killed it instantly. Its bond mate turned, and Stephenson smacked it with the energy sword. As the Hunter crouched and Stephenson tried to get at the Hunter's unprotected back, the energy sword turned back into a metal rod. Stephenson didn't have time to figure out what was wrong, so he shoved his final grenade into the fleshy mass of worms and ran like hell.

Glancing at his HUD, Stephenson quickly identified the reason for the sword's unexpected shutdown. It was empty. But before he could do anything, he heard an muffled boom and orange gore splattered all over his nice white and gold air assault armour.

Walking over to the research station, Stephenson chinned the button that would mark the current location of his comm signal and opened a channel for the first time since he had dropped into the dense jungle. "SPARTAN Hayden Stephenson to UNSC Infinity. Requesting bombardment at this location. Repeat, requesting bombardment at this location to eliminate target."

The garbled answer was, "I'd get to cover if I were you, SPARTAN, not even you can stand Archer missiles." Once safely behind his rock, Stephenson watched the fireworks and waited for a pickup.

As he climbed aboard the Pelican, Commander Palmer came on the line. "How would you feel about becoming the handler for a new fireteam?"

"And not tango with tangos? Sounds excellent."

"Then haul your ass up here to be debriefed on your new assignment - Fireteam Nebula."

"Yes ma'am."

A/N: First chapter ever . . . of all time. Please tell me how I've done, and feel free to correct me on any mistakes.