Hello, and welcome to my first fanfic ever! I take great pride in my work, and you will most likely not find any spelling errors. I like telling stories, and my fanfics, be it this one or any I make in the future, try to tell rich stories that make sense. For this one in particular I will try to stick to the Halo: Reach and Halo: CE stories as well as possible, with a few possible changes, considering the Chief isn't the only Spartan anymore. If I get a fact wrong that you feel is significant, please, write a review of what you think about my fanfic or future fanfics and also add in whatever I did wrong, and I will be sure to correct it.

Another quick thing about this series, the Six that I write about is the one that I played. Quick, efficient, socially aggressive and more brawn than brains (Although not by much), my Six is a very broken man. With his friends now gone, Six is more careful, slower to trust others, and is always worried about something. I thought I would add this just so everyone knows what character you're getting to know.

Also, I've done extensive research on the Halo series, and I've played through each one on legendary difficulty. Except for Reach. Ironic, I know. The reason that I bring this up is so you understand that I know the timeline and things. Unless you see an error in what I've already typed, please, refrain from giving me information on possible future things (Such as Halo 4 content) unless you think that it is super interesting/a tiny fact that I just might not know.

Happy reading!

~Husky

Two weeks. Two long, excruciating weeks of hiding from Covenant forces. Scavenging. Fighting. He had struggled along ever since the Pillar of Autumn had taken off without him by his order, and he was near his breaking point.

This man was no mere man. He was a legendary soldier, powerfully augmented and super human, taken into the SPARTAN-III program at age twelve as a war orphan. He was tough, and almost indestructible.

Almost.

He may have been a physical tank, but he wasn't void of emotion. Everyone he knew on the planet of Reach had either died or gone from the planet forever. He was the newest addition to Noble Team, but he had survived longer than any of the others had. He had to watch as his friends died around him, one by one, until no one else remained but him. He had set up a camp in an abandoned structure, trying to be as quiet as possible. He was running out of MRE rations and the rest of the Human inhabitants in Aszod left two weeks ago. He had bought hundreds of lives time to escape when he sent them off, and he hoped that it wasn't in vain. He knew he was going to die. He had accepted that fact when the Autumn took off, and he knew that if he was going to die, he wasn't going to go out without a fight.

His helmet's visor had cracked in the first hour from the constant attack, so he simply removed his helmet after he escaped the firefight. He was only able to escape, however, due to his advanced stealth training. As long as he didn't get shot in his face, he was fine, he had said to himself at the time. He still carried it with him, however, in hope that someone would bounce a transmission off of his helmet-integrated radio, locate him and bring him back to civilization. He thought about going back every minute of every day ever since he was left alone. There wasn't a single moment in the past two weeks he wasn't thinking about getting back to base, or even better, going home. His life before the SPARTAN-III program was one he couldn't remember, not now. The only thing he could recall that wasn't a product of the augmentation that he had gone through was how old he was. 27.

He remembered when he turned five. His mother had baked him a little cake all to himself, and his younger brother and sister were still little babies. They were twins. The UNSC had poked and prodded his brain so much, he had forgotten all of their names. His last memory of his mother was right before she died, the very day after his birthday. Ten minutes before the neighborhood was carpet-bombed by Covenant warheads, she had left him and his siblings with a babysitter. She told him over the phone that she loved him, and hung up. Thinking about it saddened him. It angered him. Seven years later, a group of UNSC officials that liked his papers came to pick him up from the orphanage, and he was separated from his brother and sister. They could have taken any other child, but they chose him. He always wondered why. He was never particularly fit, and at the time he had barely touched the surface of his schooling, but according to the UNSC, he could be forged into something great. They turned him into one of the deadliest Spartans alive, being described by his higher-ups as "Hyper Lethal". As far as he knew, his only equal in combat was the legendary SPARTAN-II, Master Chief. He had always wanted to be a superhero when he grew up. He never knew that he'd get his wish. With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed the broken helmet into one of the walls, making a clicking, static noise.

Wait a minute…

A click? Static?

He heard clicking and static from inside of the helmet. Someone else was on the radio.

He rushed over to the helmet, picked it up off of the ground and put it on his head. "Hello?! Someone, Anyone, Respond! Anybody there?!" The Spartan said desperately.

He had no way of knowing whether or not it was just a bit of static from the force in which he threw the helmet at the wall, but he didn't care if the chance to save himself was there. His time behind enemy lines had changed him. Damaged him. He didn't like it.

The radio went silent, and he could hear something that sounded like breathing on the other end. The Spartan's heart skipped a beat.

Static. Then a loud click. "Finally, someone answers." a smooth, Slavic voice said. Someone else was here, thank god. He wasn't alone anymore. Finally. Now, he could go home. Home...

"Are you still there?" The voice said.

"Yes! Yes, I'm here!" The Spartan said, hoping that no Covenant could hear him, as if they did, he would never leave this planet.

"Are you human?" The voice said to him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm a Spartan."

This did not draw the amazed voice of awe the Spartan thought that it would, as it had so many others. Regular soldiers would salute him when he was in the virtually impenetrable MJOLNIR armor, as if he was God himself. They acted envious, and he knew that they always wished they could be just like him. Little did they know…

"Where are you, exactly?" The smooth voice spoke.

The Spartan rushed through his thoughts. Where was he right now? He consulted the mental map he had created when he was alone, but came out blank. "I... I don't know. Here, I can put on my tracker, if I..."

"Ah ah ah! Don't... do that. Covenant will be able to track you, too. Ever since they captured Aszod, they've had access to Human tech."

"Right..." Six said, clicking off the tracker. It was only on for a second, but hopefully, the Covenant wouldn't be able to trace it.

He didn't even know if he could trust this person, but he had to. He pushed the dark thoughts of what might happen if he was wrong out of his mind.

"What is your name?" The voice asked

The Spartan thought for a moment. "Ahh... yeah, about that..."

He never knew his name, as it was never asked of him, another scar gained from the intense mental testing in the SPARTAN III program. He always thought that it didn't matter that he didn't have a name as long as he did his job.

"It's fine. You don't have to tell me." The voice said.

"My Spartan number is B312, if that helps."

"B312?"

"Yes."

"I've heard that Spartan number before. Are you..."

The Spartan finished the sentence for him. "Noble Six. Yeah."

There was a short lapse in the conversation, and then the smooth voice responded.

"Stay put. I'll find you myself. Don't worry."

As those words escaped the mouth of the other man, the Spartan Noble Six's heart filled with hope. He had a chance now.

It was more than he could have asked for.