Thank you so much Exi for Beta-reading this story and for your genius idea for Jordan. This is dedicated to all my beloved friends on the Halo Rp. Hope you like it.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Home is where the heart is. I've never really thought about that phrase, never believed it. When I was growing up, I never had much love for my parents. My father wasn't a good man. He didn't use his fists, just his words. Mom was, well, mom was never around. She tended to stay away from home as much as possible. I don't blame her in retrospect. Money was tight, emotions were strained. It wasn't exactly the ideal family environment.

When I finally graduated from high school, I thought I was finally going to get the hell away from that place. Course, with a pretty bad track record, no colleges accepted me. I guess that's why I was so eager to join the military when I learned more about it, anything to get away from home I suppose. I was gone from home for all of ten days. The marines didn't even want me. I couldn't shoot for shit. I couldn't perform a simple field dressing. Says something about you when aliens are slaughtering humans by the droves, and the army doesn't even want you. That's how much shit you are.

Then, one day, I was finally brought to the technician's facility. They didn't exactly have high hopes. Neither did I to be honest. To this day, I don't know what fuck up of paperwork led me to that facility. Maybe they thought I could turn a wrench with the best of them: my war contribution. The first time I saw a Cyclops, it was on the assembly line. They were being converted from mining machines to war monsters. I asked, rather innocently, could I try one out? I had a funny feeling I wanted to get behind the controls of one. It struck me as a wonder, something that I didn't exactly expect to see in the military. I don't know what made them give me the chance. Maybe they figured they could get a good laugh out of it. They rigged me into the mech, gave me a quick tutorial on how to pilot it, and within minutes I was performing some rather high skill level actions.

The trainers were impressed to say the least. I was put on duty with my own Cyclops and even some basic mechanics to help me out. I sent them away faster than they could have been ordered to help me. I didn't want any help figuring out the machine, I wanted to do everything myself. And I did. Turns out I could work hard all along, I just needed a spark, something to work hard for. I spent weeks, months, almost an entire year just learning everything about the system. How it worked, what parts did what, what a green light here meant as opposed to a green light there. I helped build them and convert them. I disassembled and rebuilt the machines countless times during the few years I had of peace. Seemed even then they were a bit hesitant to send me out on the field, so I stayed at that factory and built them, but my first Cyclops I kept safe.

Peace. I can't believe I'm even saying that word. After fighting the Covenant, there is no peace. When you've watched an enemy carve into a fellow Cyclops' cockpit and drag the bloodied corpse out of the pilot's seat just to decapitate him (cause that gave them greater honor), there is no peace in your mind. You want to kill the bastard. You kill that bastard. You leave nothing left for his allies to mourn. So that's what I did.

A light snow was falling, slowly covering the cold metal of my Cyclops. It was so quiet, quiet enough I could practically hear the conversations of distant marines. It was peaceful for a battle-field actually. I didn't like it. I never liked taking in the beauty of a planet before it was hit by the war, made everything seem worse, and Miridem was beautiful.

"This is echo three-four." A voice came in over the radio. "We have no sign of contacts. I repeat, no sign of contacts."

"Bullshit," I muttered under my breath, polishing the drill attachment to Big Daddy. "There's Covenant here. I wouldn't doubt them being right on top of us."

I spoke to soon. A plasma mortar reduced a nearby squad into nothing but a blackened hole in the ground just after the words left my lips. I cursed again, clambering up into the cockpit of my Cyclops.

"Alright Big Daddy, you ready?" I asked the machine as I closed the reflective covering and took the controls. I brought the mech to its feet and extended the drill attachment, feeding it with fuel.

"THIS IS ECHO THREE-FOUR! We need immediate assistance at our position; we have lots of squids, more than we can handle with the scorp…." The radio turned to nothing but static.

"This is Overlord. We have visual on your location three-four, hold it down. We have Pelicans en route." The radio transmission singled out the small cache of Cyclops units. "Exo-team Charlie, get your asses over there and secure that position."

"Yes sir, on our way," I replied and began making my way over the hill before me. The mech stomped through the deep snow with ease, sending plumes of powder into the air with each step. With the combined movement of three Cyclops, anyone looking in the general direction would surely see the giant machines trudging along.

"This is Sierra-101 We need immediate assistance!" A female voice came over the radio.

'A Spartan? Why is there a Spartan way out here?' I thought as I came to the crest of the hill.

The valley below was nothing short of an ensuing massacre. The line in which the marines were trying to hold was clear to see thanks to the bright colors of the Covenant forces, as the rainbow bodies stopped there. A group of Wraith tanks sat at the end of the valley, lobbing blue bolts of plasma down onto the human forces, while Scorpion tanks fired shell after shell into the advancing alien forces. It wasn't a surprise that the Covenant would just send in wave after wave of forces, it was typical of them. Meanwhile, they would flank from behind and pincer the defending forces. If that failed, then they just fall back into space and glassed the planet. I sighed in my armor, hoping that fate wouldn't befall beautiful Miridem.

"This is Gunnery Sergeant Jordan Curelski. I have a trio of Cyclops moving onto your position Spartan," I said while beginning my descent down the large hill.

"Hurry, we're losing this position fast," the Spartan called; gunfire clearly audible in the background.

"I'm on my way, ma'am." I closed the radio connection. "Get ready Big Daddy. We got some serious shit coming up."

The human line was beginning to falter as Big Daddy and I traversed the slopes towards the battle. Even more Covenant had begun to show up, with Ghosts and Banshees spraying the defending marines with fire while the foot soldiers began pushing through the line. Just as the Scorpion was about to be overrun, a fellow Cyclops joined the fight. He began throwing the Grunts and Jackals from the tank with ease, while the second mech focused on helping hold back the line.

"Cyclops team, this is Sierra-101. Thanks for the support," the Spartan said over the com. I could see her now. She didn't look feminine at all with blood spatter and burnt armor. Course, under the armor, it was difficult to tell they were even human.

"What are your orders ma'am?" I asked as there was now a temporary lull in the battle with the Covenant regrouping to make a second pass.

"We are holding this line. There are still civilians we have to evacuate just a few klicks south of this valley. Until they are safe, we're not moving."

"Understood ma'am, we'll do what we can," I said as she walked off, taking a defensive position behind a makeshift bunker.

I looked around the small 'camp' of marines that were trying to hold back the Covenant. It was rather sad to see just how few of them were left. From my descent I could see a large number of green bodies scattered about the colorful armored corpses of the Covenant, but judging from that, it was clear only about ten percent of the original force was left.

There was an eerie silence that lasted several minutes. I ordered one of the Cyclops to do what he could to repair the tank, another to stomp through the Covenant corpses and make sure they were dead. Double taps and all. From the clock in Big Daddy, it was six minutes before the Covenant decided to come back. Only this time they weren't on foot. A massive Covenant cruiser broke through the cloud cover and took position at the end of the valley. It shot down a semi-transparent purple beam, which I knew to be a gravity lift. "Here we go again," I muttered.

"This is Overlord; we have visual on a hundred plus Tangos moving towards your position. It's not squids." The radio went silent after that. All the marines moved to the bunkers, carefully watching the approaching mass of Covenant.

A sniper called out. "Brutes! It's fucking Brutes!" He began firing at them, his shot's echoing out through the valley for a moment before it became filled with the sounds of gunfire. Our gunfire first. Brutes never seemed much interested in range. Though they still fired off their weapons, the orange spikes didn't reach us. More Ghosts came towards us, piloted by Grunts this time. They charged right into our barricades, smashing through them.

"Damn it people, hold the line!" the Spartan called out through bursts of gunfire. I lunged forwards as a Ghost began firing at the marines inside the camp. The small vehicle tried to back away but I was already too close. I grabbed the front with my right arm and pulled, punching forwards with my drill. It tore the pilot of the vehicle to pieces, spattering the ground with phosphorescent blue blood. Another Ghost began firing at me, but was quickly dealt with by another Cyclops.

"Don't worry Exo-One, I got your back," the pilot said as he discarded the battered remains of the Ghost. I turned in time to see a cluster of huge, hairy, ape-like monsters breaking through the barricade. It was really a smart plan. The Ghosts distracted us long enough for the Brutes to cover the ground. They tore through the marines behind it with ease, shredding them with bayonets and bare hands. I grabbed the empty Ghost near me with both arms and threw it towards the broken line. It tumbled end over end before smashing into two of the Brutes. One of them was hit dead on and instantly crushed while another was clipped and thrown to the ground, roaring loudly.

I moved my Mech towards the carnage as the Brutes began attacking the other two Cyclops. Grenades pelted the front of one Cyclops, bringing it down to its back.

"Exo-two, damn it, talk to me!" I yelled through the radio as I ran towards him.

"Oh FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FU…." His signal cut out. I was confronted by a duo of Brutes, but Big Daddy made short work of them. One hand was put around the right Brute's head and crushed it, causing blood and bits of bone and brain to spatter the forearm of Big Daddy. The other Brute fired a burst of plasma into Big Daddy's chest. I jammed forwards on the controls, sending a large drill through the monster's chest in a mist of gore. With a quick twist of the arm, I sent the corpse sprawling to the ground a few meters away.

"Exo-two, respond! RESPOND!" I yelled through the radio. As the fallen Mech came into view I could see a large Brute, wearing intricate red armor and wielding a hammer, smash through the cockpit glass and drag out a mangled body. I yelled again, charging forwards as the chieftain threw the body into the air and smashing it with his hammer, much like a child does with a baseball and bat.

"Another? Excellent, you metal humans proved quite a challenge," the chieftain said as he turned to me. It raised its hammer but stopped mid swing and looked down and growled. Around his legs was Spartan-101, pushing forwards to take him down.

I swung an arm forwards. A sickening crack resounded through the mech as the chieftain fell backwards from the blow. It roared at me and rolled to his feet, staring down Spartan-101 and I. I began to move forwards when the Spartan had already engaged, firing a burst into the Brute's chest and slamming the rifle's butt into his exposed side. He grunted in pain and swung a thick arm towards the Spartan's head. She wasn't quick enough to dodge and was sent to the ground.

"Demon, you will die!" the Brute roared and brought his foot over the Spartan, stomping downwards onto the helmet. I tried to get there in time but Big Daddy was just too slow. I cursed myself. I had modified Big Daddy. A lot. I had fitted heavier armor so that plasma and spikes wouldn't penetrate it. But it made me slow. And I was slow, alright? I couldn't reach. The Spartan's head popped like a grape, its helmet flattening and gore oozing out of the base of the helmet.

"This is Doctor Halsey. Sierra-101 is down. Avert to plan B," said a soft female voice over the com channel, there was a tinge of sadness in her voice. "Anyone who can hear this, your sacrifice will be remembered. Thank you." Seconds later a deafening explosion resonated through the valley, shaking the actual frame of Big Daddy. Both the chieftain and I turned to watch as a MAC blast ripped through the hull of the Covenant cruiser and smashed into the earth beneath it. Immediately after that, a single Longsword fighter raced over our heads and towards the cruiser.

"Oh fuck," I muttered. I guess I knew this was going to happen. I took a moment to look around, seeing only a small cluster of marines still alive, oblivious to what was happening. They were still fighting, still shooting at Grunt piloted Ghosts and the big hairy Brute. Ten in total. The other Cyclops had been ripped apart. A few lives for thousands, it was expected.

I looked to the Brute with the hammer, smiling under the sheen of my cockpit covering. "See you in hell," I said, before a flash blinded me and Big Daddy was knocked off his feet. The force of the blast was enough to knock me unconscious and crack the cockpit covering.

Several hours later, Big Daddy's systems were finally back online. It took a few minutes to bring the mech back to his feet, but I instantly regretted doing so. There wasn't much left of the armor plating on Big Daddy, and parts of the chieftain's body painted the entire right side of the mech. I took a quick look around, but there wasn't much left to look at. Much of the snow had melted, and a glance at my HUD explained why. External temperatures were around 100 degrees, even a few hours later. In fact, there was still the faint remains of a mushroom cloud where the Covenant cruiser was earlier today.

"This is Gunnery Sergeant Curelski. Is there anyone left out there?" I coughed into the radio, restricting the signal to just around a mile. I waited for a moment, there was no answer. I extended the range. "Is there any UNSC forces out there?" I asked, still barely coughing the words out.

"This is Lieutenant Anderson of the UNSC Fatman." I laughed in my armor at the irony, despite the carnage around me. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm still in sector Echo Three-Four. I need a transport out of here."

"Are there any other survivors with you?"

"You fucking nuked us, what do you think!" I shouted. I took a breath and shook my head. "No, no one is left. Me and Big Daddy. We're it."

"Big Daddy?" the lieutenant asked quickly, the confusion clear in his voice.

"My Cyclops, I'm guessing that's the reason I survived the blast."

The lieutenant let out a rather loud hum. "I see, we are sending down a Pelican to retrieve you. We're bringing you home."

Home? Home is where the Heart is they say. I guess that makes my home Big Daddy. Without him, I would have died that day on Miridem. Even a Brute chieftain couldn't survive that blast. Big Daddy saved my life that day, and on countless other occasions. I guess you could say I love him. He gave me a purpose in life when I first joined the UNSC. He saved my life when hundreds other perished, when a Spartan got curb stomped and the UNSC decided killing a hundred Covies was more important than evacing a few grunts. He is the closest thing I ever had to a family in truth. Big Daddy, a giant mechanical monster, is my best friend. A weapon of war designed to cause death and pain, is my home.