Yo, new stuff right here. I got a desire for a hunt, so lets find the Prey's beginning, so he can find her ending.

(Master Chief POV)

Striding into the ONI Head Quarters was strange. For a lack of a better term. The guide while butting on a decent front was nervous. Always doing what he could to keep me in his line of sight. Flinching subtly when I moved in a way that wasn't necessary. Spartans that were stationed here wore the same armor and close to the same color scheme. Peper black with a secondary color matching their department.

None of this mattered really. All of the Spartans were situated at entrances and check points. All of them motionless and silent. ODSTs and Agents milled around at places talking, all while the Spartans were silent standing at ease from designated locations. A waste of recourses. All of them were Spartan 3s. The last of their kind. Condemned to stay in a building. I stopped before one of them.

"Sir, the Director is on the fifth floor." The male voice spoke in a very even tone.

"He wasn't raised besides the one I am hunting." I responded in the same even tone.

"You don't know who you are hunting." He shot back some life coming back into him.

"I know it is a Spartan 3." I supplied.

"There is nothing to give. Why condemn one to a life of this. We are not permitted to move. Act as the machines they wish we were. To act as a symbol of power. Power that is contained by deactivated armor." He ranted softly. "No, we will not help you Chief. Let her be free. I read the reports; she does her duty. We see no harm with her." And with that he falls silent head bowing a bit.

These Spartans were by spirit dead. Spartan III's from when I saw them on the field were childish when not on the field. Messing with others as they reminded themselves why they fought. Helping themselves and others keep their moral up even when the odds were against them. Looking at the other Spartans, who had no doubt heard the conversation, all of them seemed to be nothing but armor stands. I could understand the pain and lifelessness to a degree that these Spartans felt. I turned and started walking towards the elevator. could understand the pain and lifelessness to a degree that these Spartans felt. I turned and started walking towards the elevator.

The ride up the elevator was silent. The guild no longer frightened only silent as he tapped away on his tablet. Holding it in such a way that I couldn't read what he was typing. The elevator door opened after about 5 minutes in the elevator. Stepping out and into a large office. Against the wall a large Window. Behind the desk and before the window, stood Admiral Margaret Orlenda Parangosky.

This woman was dangerous, everyone who knew her knew this. Only two people have nothing to fear from her. I am not one of them.

"Seems you have finally decided to show up." Still not even turning to look at me. I simply remained silent as I stood silent, hands clasped behind my back. She sighed shaking her head.

"B-312, was one of our first, and best." She turned and sat down at her desk. "If it is her, you are up for a fight. Her specialization is hunting, assassination, engineering and piloting." She spoke pulling out a file from her desk. "It was once only her that had to deal with the scorn that the Spartans in the lower level faced." She spoke with a confidence that did not completely match her words. "I keep them stationed here, to keep them close. I was a choosing vote that started the Spartan III program. Call it miss guided guilty if you would." Standing up and handing the file to me. I slowly took it. Keeping the file closed.

"Who was her handler?" I questioned her. Her face darkened just a bit.

"Long dead, he joined ONI to gain power. He wormed his way through a lot of dirty maneuvering. She killed her handler after finding proof that he had allied with Insurrectionists, even if the allegiance was temporary. After she killed him no one but Holland was willing to take her."

"She was traded away."

"Yes, and since then opinions on Spartan here have only gone down. I can scare the crap out of the lower levels. Put up rules to try and protect them, but it will do little good in the long run." I just nodded my head. After a moment she turned. Returning to the window behind her spruce desk. Looking out over the city. I turned and left. Walking out the way I came.

Returning to the safety of the Prowler, that I had been supplied for the hunt of this Rogue, I sat down and opened the file. The file was about an inch and a half thick. Over half of the papers seemed to be half filled with black in. Some mission statements from her handler and witnesses were almost completely filled. Looking over the first files, where they started after she had passed the necessary tests for surgery. Tests completed years in advance.

Her first kill, being a once Spartan candidate, one that attempted to rape one of her teammates. Being ostracized for her title as a Hyper Leathal. The blood trail she left behind after watching the feeds of her fallen brothers and sisters. Her path as a Loner. Mental Health Evaluations that strongly suggested being benched or retired.

Then it stopped.

All the negative signs slowed to a stop, shortly after joining a team known as Noble. Mental Health tests going from retirement to rest, then to stable. Mission statements had less and less ink covering the paper.

From her Commander he expressed concerned on her penchant to vanish and return covered at times in blood, hers and the Covenant's. From a Teammate once known as Emile, he expressed, at first hatred at his new teammate. A teammate that had been a replacement, it changed from tolerance to a friendship. There was praise also from her only other female teammate, one once know as Kat. A praise for being somewhat intelligent when it came to computer coding.

Coming to the report that came from Noble 5 I hesitated. For next to the title, in bold was Jorge-052. I simply looked over the name for a moment. Rembering the big lug. He had been a gentle giant most times. Only ever fighting when he really had to. Always looking out for the little guy. I looked down at the paper. The paper spoke mostly of reticule. Reckless endangerment of herself and others around her, but I saw the code. Words out of place, extra letters, or words that could be slang, but to a Spartan II it was something different. A claim on her. I had to reread it several times.

'If a brother or sister sees this. Care for her. Care for her as you would me. She is one of us at heart and in mind.' I set down the papers. Set them back carefully in the file. What would have gotten Jorge to claim her like this. It would have been something large for this to happen.

After a few minutes I took back up the file. Reading the last report from a teammate. A Spartan known as Jun, and by his file he was still alive. Not only that, but free of ONI. It was time for another visit with a Spartan III.

Comment, please! Please oh please, I begith you, leave a comment. Even if it is, 'You put 'b' instead of a 'p'.' Please, I want to know your thoughts. I can track views, but that only makes me self-conscious when I see 100 plus views but no comments.