Ladies and gentlemen, UNSC Spirit of Fire here with a new story, in coordination with Noble Scotsman! I just watched this show, found it awesome, figured out that the Scotsman liked it, and we decided to write something about it. We'll see where it goes from here. Review with your thoughts/ideas, and as always, enjoy the show!

The Beginning

May 8th, 2014

Phoenix, Arizona

I slumped over my desk and heaved forth a sigh.

Finally done with that god…..DAMN….. essay. I thought to myself. I looked at the clock, which read 1:15 a.m.

"Jesus Christ I'm tired." I said quietly.

I debated with myself on what I wanted to sleep in before just deciding to crash in my shorts. I went to my bathroom, adjacent to my bedroom, to brush my teeth, and when I finished, I looked at myself in the mirror. A 6 foot tall, well-built American male with short dark red hair and deep blue eyes stared back, the angular jaw line and cheekbone adding a certain level of masculine charm. I started to relax as I walked back to my bed, killing the lights and lying down, staring at the ceiling. Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours.

Man, today blew. And it was my nineteenth birthday, as well.

I once again went supine and stared at the ceiling before turning to the clock, which read 1:45 a.m. Fearing the loss of what little sanity I clung to, I got up, put a shirt on, and walked over to a book shelf with 5 shelves, 3 of which were filled with books, and the rest filled with knives, everything from pocket folders to fixed blade combat knives. I chose one, a Remington Tango II fixed blade combat knife, sheathed it and locked it to my belt before leaving my room.

Maybe a little fresh air and a walk will help. I walked out into the main house and out the back door into the yard. 25 yards away was a fence, and beyond the fence was a large open grass field, the picnic ground for a massive private park, perhaps a mile or so square. I hopped the fence, an act normally illegal if the night guard wasn't my best friend. I strolled past the trees, a warm Arizona night breeze blowing, relaxing my mind and my body.

Only in early summer-time Phoenix does this kind of air exist… I thought.

Suddenly, something appeared in front of me, rolling out from behind a tree, forcing me to stop. I observed the silhouette, which had the shape of a rather pretty girl holding a….

Is that a Glock 18?! I think in shock.

She hastily raised the weapon and began to fire in my direction, the hail of machine pistol bullets forcing me to dive to cover behind a nearby tree. I drew my blade at the realization that live rounds were in use. I quickly noticed that she was shooting at someone who had been standing behind me, another girl, who wielded a saber and expertly evaded the rounds. She charged the gunner and threw a cut, which the other girl was too slow to avoid. She fell at the feet of the saber girl. I stared on, adrenaline keeping the fear at bay as the girl spun around to look in my direction.

Shit. I thought.

She charged my cover, and I turned and ran. She caught up with me quickly, and I ducked and weaved around her, avoiding her saber with the dexterity of a skilled fighter. She directed a thrust at my belly, which I slapped away with my free hand before charging and throwing a cut at her throat. She retreated, fast enough to save her throat, but not fast enough to avoid receiving a small cut on her upper chest.

We stood apart from each other, turning in a circle, calculating the other's next move. We charged, her saber swinging toward my head. I ducked down under it, my arm up to guard my head, and threw a cut to her side, which connected and drove deep before tearing through. She screamed and fell to the ground, her saber on the floor and her hands on her side, crying and cringing in pain. I looked at her, honestly surprised I had connected. To confirm, I looked at my knife, still held backhand, and found her blood on the blade.

"How did you beat me?" she stammered through the pain.

I just stared, shocked that I had just severely injured this girl, and even further stymied that she could still speak.

"Who are you?" I asked back, somewhat shaky. "What the hell is going on?"

"The girls you've just encountered are Kampfers. They are superhuman beings, chosen and made specifically to fight each other, but there is no final victory." A deep, booming voice came from all around me.

"What the fuck?" I asked aloud.

"The fact that you, an ordinary human, was able to beat a White Kampfer so easily is testament to your strength. You will be my instrument of action on Earth, Virgil." The voice resumed.

"You know my name? What the hell is this?!" I screamed.

I came to a sudden awakened state, sitting bolt upright in my bed, my breathing heavy. Drenched in sweat, I sat without a shirt, wildly looking around my room. It took me a moment to calm the heartbeat that thudded through my head like gunfire. I was alright.

What a strange dream. I thought. It was at this point I realized my alarm was ringing. I got up and shut it off before stumbling into the bathroom. I turned on the sink and splashed my face with water. I felt something on my wrist, almost like a bracelet. I looked at my wrist and found a simply designed dark green bracelet around it.

"What's this? I don't recall ever having something like this before." I tried to take it off, but it wouldn't budge. Try as I might, I could not slide, pull, or tug it off of my wrist. The minutes rolled by as I tried again and again to remove it, or at least get it to budge.

Shit! I'll be late for school! The thought kicked me into gear as I jumped in the shower, dried off, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and threw on my school clothes, consisting of shorts, a collared shirt, and a thin sweater over that to cover the bracelet. Grabbing my bag, my phone, my wallet, and my car keys, I bolted into the garage, opened the trunk of my Subaru STI WRX, hastily threw my things inside, opened the garage door and sped away, arriving to school just in time.

Upon my return home, I hastily ran back to my room, shut the door, tossed my things at the foot of my desk to the left of my bed, and sat down, my arm in front of me, the sleeve pulled back, to look at the strange bracelet.

"What is this?" I asked aloud.

"It is the mark of a Kampfer." A voice came from directly behind me. I instantly stood and turned to face the voice, but I didn't see anything.

"Who is that?" I asked calmly.

This voice is familiar. Could it be the voice from the dream? Am I still dreaming? Have I lost my mind?

"I am a Moderator, one the creators of Kampfers." The voice responded.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Allow me to explain."

"Is there a way I can see you? I feel psychotic talking to something I can't see." I stated.

"Very well. I will take a physical form for your comfort, but in return you must remain silent and listen to me."

"Alright. I'll hear you out." I said, still doubtful.

A body began to form in front of me out of thin air. The final image it took was that of a large man covered in tattoos and markings from far off lands, scars from engagements interspersed, adding to the dynamism in his appearance. The man had a kind demeanor to him, with eyes as deep as the night sky, seeming to contain knowledge of all things seen and unseen.

"I'll start with myself. As I said before, I am a Moderator, and it is my task to turn humans into Kampfers and keep them fighting each other until a clear victor is chosen. This has been occurring for quite some time now. While I never truly agreed to it, I could not do anything on my own, so I waited it out and followed my orders. However, now that the Moderators are directly interfering with the flow of the battle for their own gain, I cannot stand by. I must act, but I cannot do it myself in the human world; it is not my place. That is where you come in. You may have noticed the bracelet on your left wrist. All Kampfers have a bracelet just like it, and its color indicates what team they are on. It used to be a fight between just Red and Blue, but occasionally the Moderator Whites have been factored in. In recent times, as more Red and Blue battle grounds call truce, more and more Whites are being produced in order to put the war 'back on track'."

"But mine is Green, and there are no other Green Kampfers, right?"

"Correct. You are the first, and there will be no others."

"Are these White Kampfers a faction of human Kampfers more directly linked to the Moderators?"

"No, the White Kampfers are projections of humans, created and controlled by the Moderators directly. But, I digress, you are the instrument in my plan."

"What is your plan?"

"Let me explain the details behind the war on Earth. In a galaxy immeasurably far from this one, a battle between Red and Blue is being waged, and the Moderators serve as intermediaries. The fighting got too intense, so the Moderators decided to stage a proxy battle in a different location that would decide the victor. That proxy battle is here, and whatever happens here will be reflected in the actual war. While the Moderators did once serve as intermediaries, they have since come to assume a radically different position. They have begun to benefit from the war, and will do anything to keep it going, and this does not sit well with me. My objective is to stop the war as soon as possible, however a clear victor would prove their method of settling fights effective, and that benefit the Moderators greatly. I will not allow this to happen, but as I said before, I cannot directly intervene. However, I can insert a wild card: You. You are my instrument, and your task as such will be to draw this war to a close without presenting a clear victor."

"How can I do that? This is a lot to ask! Not to mention the impossibility of success for your plan!" I said incredulously.

"How you do it is up to you."

"Alright, let's say I were to take you up on this. I still don't know exactly what I'm going in to or what I'm doing. Could you help me get my bearings?"

The figure in front of me smiled.

"I will tell you this: you are special in more than 1 way. I have imparted a few of my abilities to you, which will allow you to do things the others cannot. However, I will let you discover those abilities on your own."

"But I don't know how. I don't know where to begin. I don't know what to do." I said dejectedly.

"Why so sad now, when you are needed most to act? You have been granted something extraordinary, and a path into the unknown awaits you, a path that was meant for you and you alone. There can be no place for fear in your heart now. You must become grounded within yourself, your true self, and all will be revealed. Accept this challenge."

I am struck silent by his words.

"This is your task on Earth, Virgil. None other can do it but yourself, none other can fill the gap that would be left if you were to back down. You cannot submit. You cannot falter. You must fight. You will fight! It is yours to do, and yours alone! Stand up and fight, Virgil!" he stood and stretched a hand out toward me. I think for a moment before taking his hand and standing.

"If it is mine to do, and no one else can do it, then I shall do my duty. If it is my path to take, I will take it because no one else can. I shall orient myself on this path, trusting myself to do what I can, and that I will do it with all of my heart. I will fight because I am called to, and if I do not answer the call, no one will. I will be your instrument."

The Moderator smiled at me.

"You are brave, Virgil. Very brave. Be strong, trust in your abilities, find your true self. These things will grant you true strength. Stay true, and you shall find victory always by your side, even in death. You must find your path and follow it. Though you may sometimes lose the path, it is always there, and though you will not see me, I am always with you. Good-bye, Mark Virgil Holiday. May safety and peace follow you, wherever your journey may take you."

With that, he disappeared. But I was unafraid. I was ready to follow my path, regardless of whatever I should meet on it. I was ready to fight. I looked down at my bracelet, not with bewilderment but with determination.

Disjointed, but with purpose. I thought to myself.

"I have work to do."