Chapter 2

Moskow-02, Russia

"I thought I told you to wear something nice." Rykov muttered as he and Michel Kreigler, aka Senior Chief stood side-by-side inside the State Tretyakov Gallery, home for some of Russia's finest art. Tonight however, it was being used as a ballroom. Some of the richest people of Russia were present as they clapped for the two heroes of their country. Rykov had become famous with his people for being a great thinker and leader, Michel however, was enjoying his first celebration from the people he was helping to protect. The young man was wearing his regular nice white shirt and black pants, with his hands shoved in them. Michel was also an odd sight, having silver hair, ghost-white skin, and ruby red eyes.

"Don't worry General; they'll still like me even if I'm not in fancy clothing." He muttered back. Rykov was in his army uniform, proudly showing his many badges and medals of bravery and his rank. As the president of the Russian government appeared out from his doorway, his wife, son and daughter present with him as well, Rykov muttered back to Michel.

"People need heroes Michel; it gives them hope in times of crisis such as the one we are in now. I'd tell you to smile but…" The general looked at Michel, who exchanged the look back, seeing that he had his usual smile on. "But you're always smiling." He snapped to and looked to the president, Michel doing the same. The president and his family stood on a platform above everyone else, with a staircase leading from the tiled floor up to them. The president, Dimitri Abelev, a man in his late forties with finely combed brown hair, and a finely trimmed brown beard and mustache. Wearing badges from his own days in the military just like Rykov, Dimitri brought his white-gloved hands up and the clapping ceased.

"My friends, let us give thanks to these two men before us today. Vasili Rykov and his service in the military, and this Michel Kreigler, for his amazing campaign against the invading Abater forces, and becoming a household name and hero to all Russians." When Dimitri's words came to a halt, everyone present broke out into clapping. Rykov stood straight and stared forward while taking his honor, while Michel looked around the room, smiling kindly at those clapping for him and waving at an occasional few. Again Dimitri held his hands up to halt the noise, and spoke. "Now, if it wouldn't bother you gentlemen, shall we proceed with the ball?" He asked.

As the classical music began to play, and the rich couples began to dance, Dimitri took Rykov and Michel in to introduce them to his family. Standing side-by-side, each person bowed as their name was said.

"General, Senior Chief, this is my lovely family. My wife, Helga Abelev," Helga was a bit younger than Dimitri, being in her late thirties to early forties, with her golden hair tied up in a bun on the back of her head. She bowed respectful and held her hand out, Rykov took it and kissed it gently before stepping back beside Michel. Dimitri went on. "This is my son, Sacha." Sacha, a young man who was apparently in the in the military, showed his few badges and rank of Corporal proudly. A young man just barely past the age of twenty, he stuck his hand out and Michel shook it, seeing they were both soldiers. "And finally, my lovely daughter, Natasha." Dimitri said proudly.

Nervously putting her hand out in the same fashion her mother did, Natasha's hand was shaking slightly. Her brother had told her about the Spartans before, and she was always afraid of meeting one. Rykov nudged Michel and the boy understood. The young girl, who was about Michel's age, maybe a year younger, slowly felt a little relieved when Michel gently put her hand in his, then bent down and kissed her hand, before releasing it and backing away. Natasha had brownish-blonde hair, reaching down to her shoulders, she was wearing a bright blue dress, and her eyes were gentle brown in color.

"Now then, you two can relax if you'd like." Dimitri said. "Mr. Kreigler." He said, the boy looked over to the president. "Sometime tonight, I'd like for you to dance with my daughter, if that's alright with you."

"Of course Mr. President." Michel replied kindly and bowed his head respectfully.

"Excellent. Rykov, my wife and I would like to speak with you, we're very pleased to have you here you know." Dimitri went on.

"Of course." Rykov said with a bow.

"Senior Chief, I'm quite interested in hearing about your missions." Sacha said as he and Michel stood side-by-side on the balcony overlooking the ballroom. "I was expecting a Spartan to be…bigger." He said, after seeing Michel's gangly appearance.

"People who expect things are always bound to come up short." Michel replied, using his poetry in his words again. Sacha was a little confused at first, but went on.

"Tell me, what was your greatest battle, I've heard you've been in a lot of great ones, but I…"

" Fair Oaks, Kansas, do you know where that is?" Michel asked. Sacha shook his head. "T'was the hometown of a friend of mine, another Spartan, but it and the base was abandoned after…an invasion from the enemy." He said, having a difficult time thinking back to the pain that battle caused everyone, Susan was killed, everyone went their separate ways, the base was abandoned, and no one has seen each other since.

" Kansas… Kansas…oh yes." Sacha spoke rather softly now. "Was that not the place where her Majesty was assassinated by enemy forces?" He asked. Michel nodded.

"Yes it was." He replied. He couldn't help but think back to that day.

His helmet off and laying on the ground beside them, Sven sobbed over Susan, who was still alive, but barely. Michel appeared over them, and snapped his helmet off as well, putting it at his side. Susan looked up, expecting a comforting smile from Michel, but instead, she was given a solemn frown, it was obvious Michel was hurt by this just like Sven was. Smiling weakly, she brought a soft hand up and stroked the Master Chief's cheek, who looked up with watery-eyes.

"Don't be sad…" She whispered. Sniffling, Sven looked down in shame, one more tear running down his cheek.

"But it was my fault you're hurt." He replied. Susan leaned forward and gently kissed him on the forehead.

"It wasn't your…fault…" Her voice slowly became softer and softer, and Sven could suddenly feel that her grip on him was lessening. He looked at her, her eyes slowly closing.

"Susan please, don't die." He pleaded. Susan smiled faintly, she was about to say something, but she was too weak, and her eyes closed. "Susan? Susan?" The Master Chief asked. "Susan…?" But still, no answer, she was gone. Suddenly Sven felt alone again, like no one was ever going to be with him again. With one hand, he put his helmet back on and picked the princess up, holding her in both arms, and he approached the incoming Pelican dropship, Michel walking right beside him.

Sitting side-by-side, on the platform, watching the dancers as they moved elegantly with the music that was playing in a classical way, the president, his wife, his daughter, and Rykov spoke. Natasha, being a shy girl, only fiddled with her thumbs as she didn't participate in any of the conversation going on.

"So do you know what happened to the Evas and other Spartan?" Dimitri asked, interested. Rykov crossed his legs and looked forward.

"No, I know nothing about the Evas; they weren't in my field you see, however, the Master Chief is in the hands of a good friend of mine, General Grievous." The general said.

"So…was it the Master Chief that was shunned from the Royal Family or am I just thinking of someone else?" The president asked next.

"No, it was indeed the Master Chief; the Royal Family did despise him after the death of their daughter, Susan, and blamed it on him for not saving her." Rykov replied.

"Poor child, does he have any family?" Helga asked. Rykov shook his head.

"No, they were killed in an Abater attack. Last time I spoke with Grievous, he told me the Master Chief has gone quite quiet now, that he apologizes for several things that aren't his fault, and he never removes his MJOLNIR armor." He went on.

"Just a series of downfalls for him isn't it?" Dimitri asked. "Now that Michel, what's his life story?" The president said with a broad grin as he looked up at the balcony to the Spartan and his son. Rykov looked up to Michel and Sacha as well.

"The Committee has erased everything about Michel, except his date of birth and name, same as the Master Chief. No one, not even himself, knows what his life was like, who his family was, and where he lived before being put into suspended animation." Rykov said. "Or why he had red eyes and white hair. But I will tell you Mr. President." The general smiled and looked at Dimitri. "He is quite a poet." Dimitri, being a fan of poetry and other works of literature, smiled brightly, which turned into a laugh.

"A military-bred killing machine who's a poet? Interesting." He, his wife, and Rykov broke out into laughter, while Natasha looked up at Michel, too shy to speak with him herself, but something about the boy intrigued her.

"Natasha, this is your song. Go to Mr. Kreigler and ask him to dance would you?" The president asked.

"Yes Father." The girl replied softly and stood up, walking around the ballroom and up the flight of stairs. By the time she reached the top, Michel was already on his way to the stairs. She saw him, almost jumped, but retained her calm state. "Hello Mr. Kreigler." She said softly and bowed slightly. Michel stood with his hands in his pockets, smiling contently.

"Hello there Ms. Abelev. Please, call me Michel." The boy said politely. Natasha blushed a bit, never having had being able to call a boy by their first name.

"O-okay Michel. W-would you like to…to dance?" She stammered nervously. Michel smiled brightly.

"Certainly Ms. Abelev, I would love to." He said and walked toward her. Walking down the stairs side-by-side, Michel looked at Natasha, whose face was red and she was looking away. "You seem nervous, why?" The young man asked. Natasha looked back at him, her face still bright red. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and looked forward.

"I…I don't know." She said softly. As they walked out onto the ballroom floor, Natasha felt increasingly nervous, seeing that her parents and renowned Russian hero Rykov were watching.

"Shall we?" Michel asked as he turned to her. Natasha nodded slightly and put one hand on his shoulder, her other hand in his hand out to her right, with his other hand on her waist. As they began to dance with the classical music playing, Natasha couldn't help but notice something.

"Why…why are your hands soft?" She asked. Michel looked at her, then to their hands, then back into her eyes.

"Hmm, I've never noticed that, are they supposed to be rough?" He asked. The girl shook her head.

"I suppose not, but…after all I've heard…about you, the Evas, and the others, I was…kind of expecting someone…scary." She looked down at their feet, her blush reducing only to her cheeks. Michel's smile widened.

"So, I'm not scary?" He teased. Natasha looked back up at him, then looked away giggling.

"Well, no." She replied.

"Then why are you so nervous?" Michel asked.

"I don't know, I've never had any friends, people don't really talk to me or make me feel like somebody, I'm just the president's daughter." She said softly.

"I'll be your friend." Michel replied. Natasha looked up at him.

"Y-you will?" She asked. Michel merely nodded.

"I love having friends, I don't have many myself, but they keep me happy." He said.

"Who?" Natasha asked.

"Well, there's Sven, Shinji, Ray and 'Zukamee. There's a girl named Alexis who thinks we're friends but I'm not sure." He said.

"Do you ever see them? Being a Spartan and all." Natasha asked. Michel's smile lessened slightly.

"No, I haven't seen them in six months, about when Princess Susan died." He replied. "We haven't seen each other since."

"I'm sorry." The girl said.

"That's okay." Michel said reassuringly.