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Official Supporters:
Grand Priestess, Luna Haile - "That's meeeeee~!" ~ Mika
High Priest, Alvelvnor
Priest, The Impossible Muffin
Priest, Xager the Chaos King
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Acolyte, Maxentirunos
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Initiate, Greg Gibson
Infiltrator, Voltegeist
If you want your name on the lists of my stories and videos, head over to P a t. R e . o n and search for the Temple Walkers. Just let us know you're from Fanfiction so we can get your name in nice and proper, alright? I couldn't do any of this without you wonderful people's support, of every variety. Thanks to all you guys~!
Along with this, Volte and I here are working on building out our own Dis-Cord server, for fans of myself and RWBY both to chill and hang and just chat about RWBY and stories in general. Story concepts, narrative ideas, challenges, Commissions from those interested, announcements about what I am working on and when and more are already a feature but we hope to add more RWBY fandom related stuff. It's a great way to be involved without being a Supporter.
PM one of us for a join link, and give us some ideas.
Alternatively, try the link below, if FF lets it work. Just delete any spaces :
kfhkfUb
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To explain the delay in this chapter. A server on Discord called 'Work in Progress' is responsible. It's horrible, truly. The rules are sometimes not even stated to you until you break one, the punishments are the same, the mods are biased in the extreme - one of them outright said to me 'I know how to deal with your kind to get rid of you' for example - and genuinely just ruined my writing mood at every point.
Several people were disruptive to conversations - yes, that's against the rules, no, they didn't get punished, yes, I got in trouble for asking them to leave me alone - and just as many were rude and intolerant of basically anything that I said.
I left the server, because it was hindering my ability to work, after I politely asked someone who had already insulted me and dragged me through the mud three times - got in trouble once of course and I got in trouble two other times - to leave me alone and stop interrupting a conversation I was having.
Delays on that end are gone now, I just needed to vent a bit, you know. Ignore a prattling asshole and a long note, if you will.
~ Twisted
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"It's not my call, just protocol." Shepard has said apologetically when they'd boarded, and the ODST had stepped off the shuttle to be greeted by six Marines assembled in what looked like a shuttle bay to him - or their equivalent, whoever 'they' were - armed with the same rifles the Commander had used gripped in the not-relaxed hold of soldiers, ready to snap up at the slightest provocation. "You have to surrender your arms and equipment, if you want to stay aboard. Or just your guns, and we'll put you in the brig until we reach the Citadel where you can get off."
"Is the Citadel acting in defense of Earth?" He asked simply, mirroring the Marine's grips on their rifles. Shepard grimaced, and that was enough answer for him, "I will disarm peacefully, Commander."
One of the soldiers collapsed their rifle down at his words, placing it on his back and drawing his sidearm instead, beckoning him forward with his disarmed hand and holding it out. Careful to hold it by the foregrip, the ODST handed the submachine gun over, and another trooper stepped forward to take his M6 himself, as well as a combat knife on his waist. The first soldier laid his weapon aside and closed with him, keeping his handgun pressed against a gap between the ODST's armor plates and patting him down.
The soldier asked him about pockets as he reached them, and the ODST answered frankly and honestly, until they were done and the soldier stepped back finally and nodded to Shepard, "Doesn't seem to be hiding anything, Ma'am. Permission to scan him with my 'Tool?"
"It's fine." He nodded when Shepard actually looked at him for permission, as though to offer a chance for him to back out now - or come clean, if he was hiding something - and the woman relayed her own command to the marine.
Once more, that sidearm pressed into his stomach between two armored plates, turned slightly to get an organ shot if he tried anything. The ODST was unconcerned, as he didn't intend to try anything and so had nothing to hide, and simply eyed the whirling orange thing on the soldier's arm curiously. Like a magnet-baton, he swept it along the ODST's arms and legs, beeping as it passed over his armor but not finding anything else. Finally, satisfied, the soldier stepped back and looked at the scan.
"Showing what looks like… Magazines or clips in the pockets, a cloth something in the chest-plate and solid armor elsewhere. Everything looks above-board, and in line with his answers to my questions, Ma'am." The Marine finally holstered, or more accurately collapsed the pistol and let it hang on a thigh, and nodded, speaking to John himself, "You will be detained and escorted to the armory under guard, where your arms, ammunition, and armor will be confiscated and thoroughly examined. Do you understand this and consent or do you act under duress?"
"I understand and consent."
"Your weapons, equipment, and armor will be thoroughly examined and throughout this process all rights to privacy and liberties to act and move will be temporarily null, including Human rights excepting war crimes and cruel or unusual punishments." The Marine continued while the Commander watched, arms crossed uncomfortably throughout the procedure. "Do you understand this and consent, or do you act under duress?"
"I understand and consent." He answered patiently, understanding this was all procedure. Military life, especially under wartime conditions, got one used to these kinds of procedural items.
"As per wartime conditions, upon being divested of items, you will be escorted under guard to our medical facility for a thorough examination. At that time, you will be scanned and checked for recent surgical procedures, blood will be taken, and all attempts to identify you will be made alongside attempts to ascertain if you have undergone aforementioned surgical procedures to instal monitoring equipment or explosives of any kind. Your medical report will be viewable by all High-Command officers, the President and the Council per treaty conditions, but otherwise classified per personal liberty and law following the conclusion of the investigation." The Marine rattled off mechanically, and though the ODST's brow raised a couple times - implanted explosives? - he understood the reasons by and large. "Do you understand this and consent, or do you act under duress?"
"I understand and consent."
"Thank you for your cooperation, Sir. My helmet has recorded all interaction which has gone over here, and is being broadcast to a locked data storage device on board this ship. Should you request it, a copy of it will be made available to you, as will my name, rank, and unit designation." The Marine explained, tapping his helmet at the 'recorded' part indicatively, but seeming to relax now that the worst was largely over. "Should you feel like any laws have been violated, you may report me to Commander Jane Shepard, Alliance Special Forces, or Admiral Steven Hackett, as highest standing Alliance officer, or associated sub-commanders as you wish. Do you understand this?"
"Yes, I understand this information." He spared Shepard a glance and nodded respectfully before the Marines formed up around him, eyes on him but otherwise relaxed, and he made to follow them.
Orbital Drop Shock Troopers were trained to be lethal, perceptive weapons, and so this rundown told the 'Trooper a lot more than he'd thought to glean so soon. Or, it implied things, at the very least. The biggest and most prominent being that this was the same kind of war as he feared, and the same kind he'd come from, but seemingly only in the onset of it. And a lot of things lead to that assumption.
The biggest was the new 'Primarch' that had ridden up with them, a replacement for the newly deceased one on Palaven. Which had been on fire last he'd seen, over a large part of it, and the system itself under heavy siege but still ostensibly the capital and they were fighting over it even though it was already lost. Which meant that they weren't yet properly compartmentalizing losses and withdrawing from losing fights.
The next was that the new 'Primarch' was needed for some gathering, to coordinate effective defensive and offensive measures against the Reapers. Which meant that until recently, the threat hadn't been present, or was a small enough one as to be disregarded. He wasn't sure which, and likely wouldn't be sure for some time without either asking or finding out elsewhere. But given the apparent lack of a coordinated combat line against these Reapers, compared to the contradictory presence of some Council which sounded like and seemed like an inter-species diplomatic group given sending a Human military craft and soldier to retrieving a Turian, it seemed an obvious conclusion to reach.
Which put this conflict on par in terms of destruction with the Covenant, given that two homeworlds were under this kind of assault already and the destruction he'd literally seen scorched onto Palaven.
"How long has this war been ongoing?" He asked the Marines to confirm while he unstrapped his armor and laid it on a table in what was apparently the armory - laughably small as he felt it was.
"Three days, technically." One answered in the back, leaning tiredly on a table tucked against the wall to the left of the door he'd been escorted through from the command deck. Surprised, the Rookie rounded on the Marines in question, left in his upper chestplate and helmet but little else aside from the undersuit. They flinched, but only slightly, and she continued, "They, uh, the Reapers hit the Batarians harder about a week ago or so, and then pushed on to Earth and Palaven."
"A single week…" He shook his head disbelievingly, turning back to the table and unstrapping his chest piece to lay it on the table. Two homeworlds essentially lost from what he gathered, in a little over a week at best.
Once he'd finally stripped out of his armor, reaching up to run a hand along the brown stubble set on too-pale skin from so long in his armor or aboard ships and clad only in the bodysuit under his armor, he padded along behind the Marines into the elevator and down a level. Soldiers turned to look at him from the tables they sat at, eating their meals, and he ignored them as he was escorted by to the medical quarters adjoining.
Which was remarkably empty, he noted as the older woman there turned and stood, glancing to the leading Marine, "This is him?"
"Yes, Ma'am." The soldier answered, looking at him and nodding at a medical bed behind her meaningfully. The Rookie took the order, stepping past the doctor and sitting on the bed while she turned and pressed a button, the window into the cafeteria darkening until it had turned opaque enough to block vision. "Do you understand the protocol, Ma'am?"
"I am familiar enough, yes." She nodded, turning to smile good naturedly at him. "Are you going to be a problem, young man?"
"No, Ma'am." He answered clippedly, sitting still on the bed and trying to ignore the grating smell of the medical room - that annoying mix of cold metal, anesthetics and surgical cleanliness than always rubbed a soldier the wrong way. "I just want this through with so I can move on, Ma'am."
And getting through that was shaping up to require significantly more conversation than he'd prefer, which was typical of his luck he decided after a second. Given whatever frankly insane physics had brought him into this mess.
"Typical soldier, always rushing things." She clicked her tongue in amusement, looking at the Marines, "Two of you stand by the doors, the rest of you out. I can handle him, and law or not, I am going to at least show his privacy some respect."
"Ma'am." The soldier turned, speaking to the others in a commanding voice, "Private Alvel, you and me are monitoring inside. Everyone else, standard pattern on the other side of the glass. Don't answer questions asked, you all know the protocol."
"Sir." They responded, all but a thin and wiry looking soldier filing out. The remaining two took a position to either side of the door, rifles resting across their chests.
"Now then," the doctor nodded, turning to him and offering her hand to shake, "I'm Doctor Chakwas, this ship's medical officer if you couldn't guess." He took the offered hand and shook it gently, the woman humming as she brought up another glowing device, "Now then, let's get underway, shall we?"
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"Glad you could finally join us, son." The older man, face marred by a war long past judging from the set-in way the scars laid, said as he was ushered into the small room adjoining what had looked to be a strategic command room of some kind. "Shepard says you were cleared on all counts for suspicious materials, so you can consider your status as prisoner over, short and loose as that was. Given the situation everyone is in, I hope you can understand it."
"I do." He nodded, looking over the man's uniform and deciding he had to be of significant rank and came to attention, thankful for the loaned uniform he'd bean given after his checkup. "Lance-Corporal John Doe, reporting for duties, Sir."
"At ease, young man. You're not under my command, technically. I'm Admiral Hackett, Alliance Fifth Fleet. Or was, until recent events." He chuckled, looking at Shepard as the humor left his face, "He's military all right, you can see it in his eyes and the way he stands. But you're sure he's not Cerberus?"
"We didn't detect any radio equipment or explosives beyond what he told us were there, and those are military ones and not in enough quantity to do anything.-"
"And duds, now." He added, the two turning to look at him for more. "All of my squad were issued with basic explosives, standard for the operation we were supposed to be on. My detonator was destroyed."
"And his armor doesn't have shields of any kind, or monitoring devices that transmit to anything." Shepard concluded, shaking her head slowly and chuckling, and for the first time John actually looked at her.
She was as lithe as he'd guessed when she'd been wearing her armor, and threatening then as much as she was now even in the loose fitting crew uniform she was wearing now and such a small frame that someone less experienced would have doubted could really produce power. With a shock of shoulder-length red hair, and bright green eyes as well, over a kind of cocky but knowingly so smile that spoke to the idea that she knew she was the best fighter in the room on almost any occasion and took no shame in that. A thin scar stretched over her right brow, in line with the eyebrow itself as though aligned to it, and another sat on the opposite jawline. In his mind, the image merged with the sight of her mounting the massive Reaper abomination he'd given her his grenades for, and made the decision to not fight her regardless of where he went next.
"Cerberus wouldn't have sent an operative crashing down like that onto a planet at war, particularly not without shields. Further, they'd have no reason to, they didn't know where we were headed." She continued, the admiral nodding his agreement as she spoke, the woman herself gesturing at his head, "He also didn't screen as having any control-implants we know of, or transmitters, and doesn't look to have cybernetics installed."
"What bothers me is his helmet." Hackett said after a moment, and John's confusion must have been evident on his face because the man chuckled and explained, "There's a lot of data storage space in your helmet, and frankly, we don't know what it's for. The video we pulled off it didn't occupy the same amount of space."
"And we had to physically make a way to get it off and converted into a basic format that we could view." Shepard added with a small grimace at the information, though that was even more steps towards confirming the Rookie's own suspicions. Impossible suspicions though they may be, he was fast running out of others. "Your formatting was entirely different from our own, and it didn't work for everything. We only managed what we did thanks to some… Unique assets on board the Normandy."
"Assets I don't know about or care to ask." Hackett agreed, nodding with that smile old men always had. Looking back to John, he continued, "We saw some interesting things in your helmet's video. The most interesting, to me and Anderson, was a massive purple craft we saw hanging over what an analyst denoted as the African coast. Would you care to explain what that was?"
"Yes, Sir." He answered crisply, "I was part of a large detachment of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers deployed to board that Covenant Carrier and capture a High Prophet, to the end of negotiating a ceasefire with the Covenant."
"Would you mind explaining what that is to us? I don't recognize the name 'Covenant, or that ship, and I certainly don't remember one landing in Africa." Hackett asked politely, or as politely as John had expected. Still, he nodded, and began to explain.
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"Hell of a story, that was, young man." Hackett said when he'd finally finished explaining the Covenant and the Human-Covenant war to him, in as much detail as he could manage. A process that felt like it had taken hours, but couldn't have been more than one. "Anyone else, they'd call you a liar and order Shepard to arrest you until we found out the truth. But given the frankly ludicrous amount of times Shepard has said something insane and been right, I will defer to her."
"I feel crazy saying it, but… I believe him." Shepard answered after a second, making a pinched face at the admission. Hackett gave her a look, no more than a raised brow and a tilt of his head, and the woman explained quickly, "As I said previously, Cerberus wouldn't have outfitted him this way, nor would the Reapers have, and neither could have known I would be on Menae. Not if they couldn't also destroy this ship right here and now."
"As insane as it really is," she continued, jerking her head at the ODST, "his story makes more sense than anything else I can come up with. And Liara has no idea who he is either, she said she'd look and message if she found anything out. You know how deep her information runs, even Cerberus wouldn't be able to hide this. Then there's that radiation we detected as well, and that has no explanation on either side either. His story, though… It does."
"Slipspace." Rookie said in agreement, "At least theoretically, I think, it explains the radiation." He was a soldier, though, and couldn't be entirely sure. That the radiation hadn't killed him outright was already straining what he knew about Slipspace travel in general, though maybe it being Covenant had something to say there.
"Then I'm classifying that information, beyond who either of you decide to share it with yourselves." Hackett said, sounding suddenly tired and shaking his head. "Dimension hopping super soldiers… What's next, a live Prothean? Maybe the Geth will come riding to our rescue with it, too. And you offered your help?"
"Per Winter Contingency, I'm reporting for defensive operations." Rookie shrugged, the shoulders of his crew uniform rustling quietly in an odd way. Or, odd for him at least, he supposed that it was normal for people not used to bodysuits and armor.
"Then I'm officially drafting you into the Alliance military under my own authority, and ordering you to standby for rank and order aboard the SSV Normandy SR-2, under direct command of Commander Jane Shepard." He said simply, the Rookie nodding and turning to the woman to snap a salute.
"And I am giving you a skip promotion to Corporal." She said, smiling a wide and toothy grin that… Was kind of frightening, really. Almost vicious, and excited at the same time, in a way that sent a brief and small chill up the ODST's spine. "We'll get you a basic shield system installed on your armor as soon as we can, and sort out weaponry for you. Unless you want to use yours, in which case… I can try and get some Spectre resources on it?"
"Spectre?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ah, yeah, guess that wouldn't make sense to a... " She paused, looking at him and making a face, cocking a hip and putting a fist on it, "I'm going to say foreigner here, Rookie, because I don't know what else to say, and you get what I mean. A 'foreigner' wouldn't know what a Spectre is."
"I'll leave you two to sort this out, then. Shepard, get to the meeting point, and find out what the Krogans and Salarians need. They're waiting on you." Hackett nodded with a sigh when she saluted, turning as the holographic display flickered out behind him.
"Let's get you settled in then, Rookie. I'll give you the grand tour, and find you a nice spot. Maybe the old Observation Deck? Maybe, yeah, maybe..." Shepard said shortly, losing herself in her own thoughts and turning and leading him out of the small communications room, talking over her shoulder at him, "Yeah, you can have the, uh, right side Observation Deck. Should be right."
"Hm." He nodded, glad to simply get to stay quiet finally. Nothing but talking, answering questions, for hours now. It was nice to just follow, finally, and do what he was told.
"Need to get you an Omni-Tool, too, and show you how to look stuff up on it…" She seemed to brighten suddenly when she saw the Turian, Garrus if he remembered right, round a corner with a small pad in his hands and a digital screen, "Ah, Garrus! Meet our newest crew-mate, Corporal John Doe."
"Wait, that's your actual name?" He sounded surprised, blinking weird, almost reptilian eyes at him. In an uncomfortable way, he looked like an Elite in some ways, but just different enough that the Rookie could calm himself and nod at the question, "Huh. I sense a story there, but I won't push for it. Welcome to the team, Rookie. I saw you out there, and I have to ask about the nickname, because no way in your hell are you actually a rookie at all this."
"Name stuck. Prefer it now." He shrugged, the Turian tilting its head while he mentally ordered him to leave it be, or maybe begged him. His mouth was aching from so much damn talking.
"I think he's worn out." Shepard said, patting him on the arm and smiling up at him, the woman herself a couple inches shorter than he was. Not that he let that change his opinion on her, he'd killed enough Brutes and Elites to know size didn't matter. "Hackett had a lot of questions for our wayward space-traveler."
"You gonna explain that, or-"
"Making a brief for the ground team and anyone else critical that needs to be in the know." She gave him a look, scarred eyebrow raising questioningly, "That alright with you? They do kind of need to know who they're working with, after all, but if you have qualms..." He simply shrugged, and she blinked at him a couple times before sighing and looking at Garrus, "Okay, I don't think he cares."
"Alright, well, like I said, I guess. Welcome to the team." The Turian offered his hand, and John swallowed as he looked at it for a couple seconds. Those talons looked sharp, after all, but…
Shepard elbowed him in the side, and his hand came up to meet the Turian's, nodding respectfully as they shook while Garrus and Shepard chuckled and the woman grumbled, "Great, another antisocial weirdo, that's what we needed…"
"Anyways," she moved on when he looked at her, "Garrus, can you get an Omni-Tool sorted and meet me on Deck Four, up under engineering with it, and see if you can get his armor too? That's where I'm putting him up, until I find somewhere else to put him. That part I'll, uh, figure out later! Yeah."
"Anyways, yeah, do that for me?" The Turian chuckled, a sound that came from low in his chest and thrummed oddly, and she smiled, "Thanks, Garrus. You're the best alien buddy a girl could ever ask for."
"Isn't that how you talk to a pet…?"
"Come on, Rookie, let's get this grand tour underway." He nodded, and Garrus sighed like someone who had suffered for too long under weights without compare, and the Turian watched them leave before making his way into the large room behind them.
"So, that was the War Room, and this is the CIC, where I plot out our courage to objectives we've been issued or found, and combat orders are run if we end up in a fight or something. You know, war ship and all that." He nodded again, and she snorted a small laugh, "You don't talk much, do you?"
"Not if I can help it, no." He answered, shaking his head.
"I mean, it's fine, as long as you shoot straight and talk when you need to. And I know you do both, so…" She flailed her hands and shrugged, smiling almost dorkily, and he himself almost laughed at the ridiculous gesture. She seemed almost annoyed by that but shrugged a moment later and turned, like it didn't actually matter to her at all. "On with the tour!"
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All Concerned :
I intend to address that soonish. Suffice to say for now, he had no context, and mainly meant on the ground the Reaper is massive. To be able to land and move that way is, actually, special even in the Halo universe.
Jackalope :
When they can be, yeah. He did a lot of talking here and in last chapter, but trust me when I say that will not be the case terribly often.
