One-Shot. Reimagined Lone Wolf. What if Jun, who presumably survived, came from CASTLE with Halsey's orders to rescue Six? After belatedly purchasing Halo: Reach and completing the campaign, I decided to write this, as my poor pixelated Spartan's death disappointed me greatly. Anyway, hope I'm not too late to the party.
Six's POV
2552, planet Reach, near Aszod Shipbreaking Yards
She had been fighting for hours. Maybe days. It all blended together after a certain point. Maybe it was fatigue, or hunger, or lack of sleep that caused her not even to know how long she'd been fighting in the glassed remains of the shipyards. Everything is coated in a thick coat of dust, and it blew around with each gust of wind. That lone wolf stuff? That stays behind, Carter had said. It seems there was no choice but to disobey that order. Her MJOLNIR armor had run out of power hours before, the HUD blank and her shields gone. Since then she'd taken numerous hits. Gashes all over her body, grazes from energy swords, horrible burns under the armor on her left leg. The worst was a needle protruding from the center her back, at a spot her arms couldn't reach.
Half of her Mark V helmet's visor is completely smashed, a few pieces still attached to the rest of the helmet. The other half is cracked like a web. She isn't sure if it's her clouding vision or the smashed visor that made it so hard to see. Maybe both. She weakly lifts her Magnum. Kat's Magnum. Had it always been this heavy? She couldn't remember. She had to focus. Focus on her target. Like in training. Her arm quivered as she pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through a charging Elite's head. Another one roars behind her. She whips the gun around. Click. Cursing, she tosses the weapon down. The Elite lashes out with its arm, sending her flying, as in her weakened state she didn't counter in time. She lands painfully, her back hitting the side of a ruined building. Her scream of utter agony rings out across the silent wasteland that was once Reach, her home planet. The needle had been driven deeper by the impact; what perfect luck that she had hit the wall at just the right angle. She liked to think Noble was somehow cursed, but every other Spartan had died too, so that wasn't the case. Moaning and clenching her teeth, she tries to stand but fails. Judging from her newly noticed shortness of breath and the blood she was now coughing up, it had punctured a lung.
Ignoring as best she could the searing pain throbbing across her entire body, Six drags herself up to face the Elite. Probably the fiftieth Elite in the last hour or so. Arm trembling, she manages to draw her knife from its shoulder sheath. Emile's knife. She'd recovered it from his killer's throat. How long had it been since the Autumn took off as she covered its escape with the MAC? Three days? More? Less? She is limping in a circle around the Elite, watching for his weaknesses, gaps in his defense. A dance she'd done countless times. Only now she was struggling to keep on her feet. The Sangheili lets loose a battle cry as it charges at her, sword over its head, ready to strike her down. This is always easy to dodge. Just roll to the side when it nears you. Suddenly it is upon her, swinging downwards fiercely, and she musters her remaining strength and dives to the side with her good leg. This time, though, she is too slow. The weapon slices across her right arm, tearing tendons and sinew, nearly slicing the arm in two. It would have, had the armor not partially deflected the blow.
With one final gasp of breath into the lung that wasn't rapidly filling with blood, she brings Emile's kukri up with her left hand directly into the Zealot's face, hearing it tear into his brain. The Elite collapses immediately. She'd managed to take them all down, but at this point Six can barely stay on her feet, struggling to breathe. Each hobbling step adds to a growing trail of blood. Have to make it to...where do I have to go again? Her thoughts are getting hazy. She doesn't realize her legs are giving out until she crumples to the ground among dozens of dead Covenant.
She manages to haul herself into a sitting position against a large rock. She sits at an angle and tries to wrench the needle out of her back. It hurt...so much. She could see a first aid kit in the burned out shell of a building. Too far away. She'd never make it, not in her current condition. The needle was in deep, but it was starting to come loose, so she continues grinding it against the rock. It was getting harder to stay awake, stay aware. No, no...you have to get it out. Finally the projectile comes loose and falls to the sand. Or dirt. Whatever the orange stuff was. The sky was orange, an unnatural colour as a result of the glassing. She feels a liquid seeping into gaps in her armor. She looks down. What is that..? Is that my blood? Out of the corner of her eye, she sees movement. An armored figure, cloudy in the distance. More join it. They're Spartans, she can tell now. Noble Team. They walk in unison towards her. But they were all dead. Everyone but her.
Then they stop. Abruptly. About twenty Six's eyes focus on each member of her team. Kat had a bullet hole through her helmet and visor. Carter's armor was mangled and distorted beyond recognition. Emile had a gaping wound in his stomach, his entrails dangling out of the hole. Jorge, as soon as her eyes fell upon him, disintegrated into nothing. Where was Jun? You failed us, they cry in unison, their voices empty and metallic. You could have saved us. But you did nothing. Nothing! Nothing! Six tore madly at the shattered helmet on her head. It was echoing in her comms despite her suit having run out of power hours before. She had to get it off. Get it off, and it'll stop. Yes. Have to get it off. They'll go away. What the hell was she doing? She had to be hallucinating from blood loss and extreme fatigue. She tries to remember her training for situations like this, but her thoughts were hazy and constantly swam to random subjects. Her eyelids are drooping. Her body is begging for sleep, but if she granted it that, she was afraid that she'd never wake up. Would it matter if she didn't? Reach, the heart of the UNSC, the great shield of Humanity's cradle, Earth, was lost to the Covenant. Much of the planet was burning; soon there would be nothing left but a smoldering wasteland. Even the full might of the millions of ground personnel and hundreds of naval vessels stationed here was unable to stop the onslaught, and unless the package that she and her team had sacrificed so much for truly turn the tide of the war, the human race would be driven to extinction.
On that feeling of utter failure, SPARTAN-B312 closes her eyes, presumably for the last time.
Strangely, she accepts it.
One hour later
Jun's POV
"Sir, we're nearing her last known coordinates," Says one of the three Marines that Halsey had sent to accompany me in rescuing one of her favorite Spartans.
"Good. Set up a perimeter upon exit." I reply, staring out the back of the Pelican at the Covenant snips glassing the once-beautiful planet's surface.
"What'll we be looking for, exactly?" He says, fingering his pistol holster nervously.
I think for a second. "A grey-armored Spartan and a rather large pile of bodies."
The Trooper smiles, something rare for the pockets of UNSC resistance still on the dying planet. There was a ship at CASTLE; this mission is to be Halsey's last act before they were to intentionally destroy CASTLE to protect valuable intel, including Earth's location. Also known as OPERATION: WHITE GLOVE. Halsey wanted to get at least a few surviving Spartans off the planet; we were like children to her, after all. I may be the last, other than the single one who had made it to the Pillar of Autumn. If luck will spare us for once though, Six is still alive.
The Pelican touches down, and the three soldiers ready their weapons and move out, searching the area for the missing Spartan. Not the propaganda version of "missing", either, I hope. I cross my fingers silently and heft my rifle onto my back. I doubt I'll need it, but bring it just in case. There isn't much left of Aszod; there are a few ruined buildings and chunks of rubble here and there, but aside from that, there's only this odd sand that blows around in the wind and covers everything. One by one, we search the buildings, finding a dead Elite or two but nothing else.
Was she no longer here? Had she somehow found transport? Hell, could she have just hijacked a damn covenant dropship and flown it to CASTLE, and the whole thing would be a waste of time.
"Sir! I've found her!" The other two Marines dash over to his position, me close behind. I hear all three gasp. I shove my way past them. There were probably two dozen dead Elites concentrated in this area, all of them in a hundred meter radius of the center. I step over body after body until I reach the middle, where two Zealots lie dead. One has Emile's machete buried in its throat. The other has a bullet though the head, Kat's pistol lying next to it.
In the middle of them is Six's broken form, lying limp against a rock in a pool of her own blood. Her armor is tattered, shredded and scratched beyond repair, and blood still seeps from a number of gashes and tears. As I get closer, I can make out more details. Her armor had no power; I can tell because there are no flashing lights on her chest plate. Her visor is completely shattered, revealing her eyes, the area around them bloodied from the sharp glass. Judging by the dark bags around her eyes, she hasn't slept for likely days; looks like she's out cold. Her breathing is ragged and shallow; if I had to guess I'd say she's punctured a lung.
I sink to my knees in front of the only remaining member of my team. I gingerly place my hands on her shoulders, as if touching her too roughly would sever whatever still tethered her to life. "Six, wake up." I murmur. There is no response. "Six. Wake up," I say, louder, gently shaking her. Her breathing is getting worse. Muttering some choice words, I dig around in my pack for the small first aid kit I'd found in a nearby building. It won't be enough; she'll need proper medical treatment. I don't even know how she's still alive. Her injuries would make a dozen Hunters drop dead. She's always been a tough one, but I don't know if she'll survive this. And I won't forgive myself if she doesn't. I reach out and nudge her again. "Six! Wake up!"
She suddenly gasps, and begins retching and wheezing, coughing up even more blood. So much blood. Her eyes are still unfocused, and her hands weakly fumble with her Mark V helmet, attempting to remove it. Her eyes fall on me. She grasps for her knife that isn't there, her arm quivering. I see something I've never seen in Six. Fear. There is fear in her bloodshot eyes, hopelessness, and pain. So much pain. She grabs her helmet again, yelping; there in the gap between it and her skin, cutting her. I didn't notice that before. How could I not have noticed?
She shouldn't have to endure more pain than she already has. I gently move her hands to her lap and with some effort remove her jammed helmet. When she flinches and feebly tries to push me away, I cup her face in my hands and force her to look at me. "Six! It's me!" Recognition finally dawns in her eyes, and she offers a small smile before her strength is spent and she slumps back down, clutching her chest and shivering in pain. "Jun...you're alive...?" She manages to croak. Her voice seems so small. She reaches up and fiercely clutches my arm before fading back out into semi-consciousness. I frown. "I hope you still are when weget out of this..." I mumble to myself. Scanning over her broken body and noting the gashes and lacerations, I can't help but wince. I'll have to patch her up a bit before we can leave. I remove the Biofoam from the kit and apply it to her more urgent wounds, and wrap the others in sterile bandages. It'll have to do. But how the hell was I going to move her? She was barely even alive. I sigh heavily. I'll have to carry her to the Pelican.
"Six, this is going to hurt. A lot. But you just have to get through this one last thing, and you'll get medical care at CASTLE Base, okay?" She's not listening, but I continue to babble aimlessly as I plunge shots of morphine and other pain relievers as well as some blood plasma into her body. When I'm satisfied, I scoop her up and set off for the Pelican. The three Marines run off to notify the pilot of Six's condition so he can get us there double time. Despite being barely conscious, her groans and gasps in pain tell me she's still breathing somehow. Weaving my way through the shells of buildings carrying her fragile life in my arms, I resume my chattering, a habit of mine. Despite the messages on the contrary during training, Six had said my talkative nature was "endearing." I smile under my Recon helmet at the memory.
I allow my thoughts to wander to the short time Six had been on Noble team. I, like everyone else, had only reluctantly allowed her into the group so soon after Thom's death. Soon, she'd gained my trust as she had everyone else's; I could see how she'd earned the whole "Hyper-Lethal Vector" thing once we'd been in a few firefights. I was glad to have her at my back, and we shared, well, intimate moments more than once. Sneaking away at night as the others slept, or in an unused room at, say, Sword Base. There was even that time Kat had caught us in the act and simply winked and left. Did I love her? I suppose. I just don't know if she loves me back, and whether or not she'll even make it.
The three Marines had their weapons ready for any Covenant stragglers, standing around the ramp to the Pelican. Upon seeing me they salute and motion in, and one of them helps me lower onto a stretcher the woman who is presumably the last of my team. With a last glance across the landscape, the other two men climb aboard and buckle into the seats on either side as we take off. I kneel next to her. The ride continues in silence. I realize that I've been absentmindedly stroking Six's hair. Embarrassed, I pull my hand away. "We'll get you there, Six," I say quietly to myself. "You won't let them get you that easily, will you? Stay with me, six. Please."
Her eyes slowly crack open, as if she'd heard me. With great effort, she pulls herself up and yanks off my helmet. Before I can react she connects her dry, bloodied lips to mine. It lasts about a second before she falls back to the ground, a contented look on her pale face. I catch her, and lay her against me, her head in the crook of my arm. She looks up at me. "I will," She murmurs, determined. I believe her, because if I've learned anything about this woman, she'll keep her word.
"I'll stay with you."
She falls asleep in my arms to the gentle bounce of the Pelican.
Damn that was cheesy. Oh well; it kept me busy today. It was a nice alternate from Elder Scrolls.