*Insert disclaimer*
( Halo does not belong to said author; yatta yatta, yatta. )
Every dent and bump on the road was made audible through the 'Hog's rough interior seating. Nothing could protect the occupants from feeling the unfair lashing of nature's makeshift path. Overhead, two Falcons roared with laughter as they soared past the vehicle. The driver of the Warthog made sure to end their mockery with the dust that arose from his ride's wheels; the Falcons roared ahead in displeasure.
"You sure you don't wanna put your helmet on, lieutenant? We're having a pretty rough ride." said the driver. He was a fairly young Marine; having just the right amount of experience and time away from the more hardy veterans; the lieutenant suspected that in two years time, ( if he lived long enough ), that the Marine would eventually fall into the improper grammar the veterans always used. Hopefully, this would not happen.
The lieutenant shook their head in response as they fiddled with their said helmet. It was glowing in the musky light and had visible damages imprinted on the sides and front; the owner would have preferred nothing more or less.
Then finally, the Warthog came to an unsteady halt and screeched just out of the Falcons' landing zone. The Marine took one last look at the Spartan beside him before saluting. "Here's your stop, sir." he announced, before equally swinging himself out of the jeep-like transport; and if the Spartan were to have payed close attention, would have heard the mumbled promises of the Falcons' pilots' deaths.
The Spartan quietly sighed as he sauntered past the armed birds. He ducked beneath one's tail and caught a glimpse of a Spartan-III cleaning their Sniper Rifle out. Not one paid much attention to the other and continued on with their way.
The first entered the temporary base, whilst the latter stayed at his position. The first Spartan's tracks were halted by a robotic arm. The lieutenant showed no surprise as his eyes landed heavily on the man sharpening his kukri blade; his helmet was practically screaming death with the skull etched on it.
"Commander." the voice was fresh and crisp; it came from the owner of the synthetic arm. Six watched as the woman came into his line of view, her profile being illuminated by the fluorescent light. She sported the average haircut, scarred skin, and an exotic accent.
"So that's our new Number Six." this time, it was a different man speaking. Instinctively, Six's eyes flickered over to the bulkier of the assorted Spartans. Clearly, he was not produced of the same cheaper augmentations Six's kind had gone through. 'Battle weary' was displayed on this man's face.
"Kat, you read his file?" Was it possible to be conversed about without being talked to directly? Six remained, however, quiet, and kept these thoughts locked up in his head. Trained to think first before risking one's life and/or rank, he kept his attention focused on the conversation.
The woman, Kat, replied, "Only the parts that weren't in black ink."
This time, Six had to forcefully keep his remark silent. He had seen what ONI had done to his file; all the censoring they did on his bio. Admittedly, Six was surprised that the said Kat had even bothered reading the blatant information leftover.
The only one who did not speak yet finally turned their attention back to Colonel Holland. Internally, Six felt curiosity spur into his system. Why would his newly appointed Commander waste time scrutinizing him now? Evidently, there were more pressing matters to take charge of rather than his appearance. The heavy silence that flanked the room was only disrupted by the conversation the two higher ups were having.
Subconsciously, Six tuned into this exchange of words before snapping into attention.
"Commander, sir." he stepped up as the chat session ended. Noble One nodded, his cynical eyes lowering to a respectable, ominous degree. Six, unlike him, boldly sized him up. At least for him, he had the coverage of his helmet; something his new Commander hadn't even bothered to use as of now.
"I'm Carter, Noble One. That's Kat, Noble Two; Emile and Jorge – Noble's Four and Five. You'll be riding with me, Six." he explained. The two emerged from the makeshift structure and entered Reach's gloomy atmosphere again; the blaring sounds of the Falcons' indicated that the Marine from earlier, had not gone out with his threat. This brought the slightest of comfort to Six; he would not have to face a briefing about their deaths after all.
"Now I'm not going to lie to you, lieutenant. You're stepping into some shoes that the rest of the team would rather leave unfilled," Carter paused as they boarded the mechanical birds. "As for me, I'm just glad to have Noble Team back to full power." Six barely glanced at the other Spartan that sat next to him.
"And by the way, I saw your file. Even the parts that ONI didn't want me to see. I'm glad to have your skill set, but that lone wolf stuff stays behind. Got it, lieutenant?" Carter questioned.
Six did not skip a heartbeat. "Yes sir." he replied. He had been expecting this draw of events. Anyone who was anyone would have instantly recognized that he, as a soldier, had never worked with another ally for longer than an hour or so. If he had, then they were likely to be dead now. He sensed a movement to his left; it was the final Spartan; Noble Three – Jun.
"Welcome to Reach." he greeted.
On the latest note: this is part four of my Halo : Reach 'saga'.
Yet I can assure any reader that they will not be forced to read the other installments.
No confusion should be instilled at all throughout this fanfiction.
Cheers,
FTAaee
