AN: Here's the second chapter of To Reclaim Thy Self!
Stayed up to deliver another chapter of this as slight penance for the long wait I left you guys. Hope you guys like this!
Exordium 1.1
Stars saturated his view, pinpoints of light glowing brightly in the sky. Their light mixed with the sky of dawn, creating a sight breathtaking to most people. They formed a picture of cosmic awe, a microcosm of the universe around them.
To John, all he could he feel was shock and loss.
He paid little attention to his predicament, falling through the sky kilometers above the Earth's atmosphere. He had no concern for the redoubts on his HUD, screaming errors and warnings that needed to be addressed, that showed problems that had to be solved.
All he could think of was that Cortana was dead.
Dead.
His partner, the one who made him human, was dead. The one he promised to save from whatever harmed her.
"You know me. When I make a promise…"
"You keep it. I do know how to pick them"
He failed to keep her safe. He had been helpless, trapped in the Didact's grip. Cortana had saved him from the Didact, saved him from the nuke.
And he couldn't do the same. He lost. He had finally lost.
And the stakes couldn't have been higher.
His fists tightened as he forced his mind back to his current predicament. Cortana wouldn't want him to die because he had been too busy grieving. There would be more than enough time for that later.
John twisted his body and brought his arms up, regaining control of his body's momentum. He aimed himself downwards and clicked his microphone open on the UNSC E-Band frequency.
"Mayday, this is Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117, requesting assistance from UNSC forces. How copy, over?"
He paused, waiting for the reply. Nothing.
"I repeat, this is Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117, requesting assistance, over!"
Nothing.
John's face betrayed nothing behind his helmet and shut his microphone off, eyes blinking commands to his HUD. The hydrostatic gel layer inside his suit responded to the commands, over pressurizing itself in preparation for a hard landing. A thousand tiny knives pricked his skin, but he easily ignored the discomfort.
He'd felt a lot worse.
His microphone had to have suffered damage during the destruction of the Mantle's Approach. That had to be why that the UNSC wasn't responding to his hails. No matter. He'd just reach Earth's surface and walk his way to civilization and regroup with the UNSC.
But it would never be the same without her.
He would do his duty as a soldier. He'd protect humanity. Whatever the costs.
But as he approached the cloud layer below him, John couldn't help but feel the cost was too high.
What would happen to him now? Would he be thrown back into the fray with another Cortana model like she had said to him? Would he be benched as an aging asset, too old and 'outdated' to matter? Would he be arrested for insubordination?
The thought stung. And it wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried.
But he was a soldier. That's what he did best.
That's what you only know how to do.
John found that he couldn't deny it as he breached the cloud layer beneath him.
And he found himself facing an Earth that didn't look like the one he knew. No sprawling cities, no UNSC presence patrolling the skies in case of alien invasion. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
John instinctively waited a half second before realizing that Cortana wasn't here anymore to give him information while in the field. He'd have to do it manually.
With a few blinks of his eyes, he tried to gain access to the UNSC servers only to find himself stonewalled. Apparently to the suit, the UNSC computer systems didn't exist. Either his suit was damaged severely or …
John didn't want to think about what else could be wrong.
Changing tactics, he had his suit access the UEG Internet Earth, hoping he could find topographical maps that could explain what was going on. Perhaps he'd have better luck using the civilian servers.
The resulting COULD NOT FIND error message was more frustrating than he thought.
If the UEG systems were down as well, then something terrible had happened. He could confirm his suspicions as he drew closer to the ground, spotting a small town with his visor-enhanced vision. No familiar UNSC presence, no sign of any modern day architecture…
This wasn't home.
As he plummeted towards the ground, angling his body towards the bay that would mitigate some of the fall, John's mind rapidly raced through what he had learned.
No UNSC or UEG computers systems, no presence of UNSC forces. Modern architecture was nonexistent, the buildings appearing straight out of a twenty-first century history vid. He was falling from the sky in damaged armor without Cortana to back him up.
A challenge, then.
John knew he had to figure out where he was and find a place for a staging ground to try and get in contact with the UNSC. Something had to have happened aboard the Forerunner ship to send him here. Was it an STP? It could be considering how little they knew about the Forerunners.
No matter. He just had to get home. He had to protect humanity, do his duty.
For her. And for himself.
He was now meters above the water. John braced himself, tucking his body into a ball in one smooth motion.
He hit the water. Darkness.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"… look at …. here! What … fuck is it?"
" Don't know… Looks abandoned … forgotten … Tinker made. Obviously … left behind."
" Shit …. The mech… Lots of money…. "
"Take him away! Maybe… get… payback on … damn thief."
XxXxXxXxXx
John opened his eyes, blinking away the dark spots in his vision as he came to. That landing had been harder than most he had experienced. His visor flickered, the systems rerouting power after such a shock. He wouldn't be able to move until the suit finished rebooting. He was vulnerable.
Voices emphasized that as three men walked in, all sporting some kind of weapon. They were all talking, obviously about him. The two thugs on the side were wearing jeans and ill-fitting short sleeved shirts. That was strange. He didn't expect to see humans, much less humans wearing twenty first century clothing that had seemed better days.
The woman in the middle was wearing nicer clothes; khakis, long sleeved shirt, a watch. It was obvious that she was the boss.
"We found the mech lying on the shore of the bay in the condition you see here. " the first thug replied, white skinned and red hair. "We believe it was a Tinker invention that was accidently left behind when it got too damaged."
"Is it Armsmaster's work?" the woman replied softly with a slight French accent. What was a Tinker? Who was Armsmaster? Obviously he was one of these Tinkers…
The other thug shook his head, "Could be. Might be Toy Soldier's as well. It doesn't matter."
The woman shook her head, "It does matter if they come crashing into my operation looking for their salvage."
John kept perfectly still, but inwardly he was confused. So much context was missing, context that would have make everything so much clearer.
"What do you want us to do?" the first thug replied, fiddling with his gun.
"Dissemble the mech, pry it open. I want Havoc down here to gut it and learn what he can from its innards."
That statement made them enemies. John knew how to deal with enemies.
The woman turned to leave. "We've managed to track down our money thief to a few blocks south of here. I'm leading a detachment to find him and take care of him."
"What about the Wards?" the second thug asked, nervous as well. Who were these Wards? It had been a long time since he had felt this out of place.
"They're too busy preparing for the next Endbringer attack." The woman brushed off the question. "It's about time for the next one." She left, leaving the two thugs alone.
The black guy shrugged and walked over to a table, picking up a power saw. "You heard the lady. We've got work to do."
"Don't you have a bad feeling about this?" the redhead asked, gulping. "Its visor… it's feels like it's looking into my soul."
"Can it" the black man snapped, stepping forward with the saw. "It's just a dead machine."
"Before this is all over, promise me you'll figure out which one of us is the machine."
John felt Spartan Time kick in as the man approached, prompted by the memory of Cortana's words. His suit reactivated and he lunged forward, lightning fast.
He would not let her down.
Fin