A/N: Hello! I don't have a schedule for posting, so if I ever take a long time to post, chances are that I am just doing something else. Right now, for example, I am trying to get a story published in Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine. But enough about me. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Microsoft, Bungie, or 343 Industries. This is for my enjoyment and, hopefully, the enjoyment of others. I do not receive a profit.


Pure White Silence


Edward perked up when he felt the steady vibration of the Pelican change. He quickly took the Revelation II scope off of his sniper rifle and put it in its carry case. As he began to break his rifle into the stock, trigger, barrel, and silencer, Edward noticed a comm channel open. He paid it no attention and continued to stow his rifle for transport, until he read the tag. Commander Palmer.

This time, he looked up at Marcus sitting across from him. Marcus noticed the helmet had come up to look and made a flurry of hand signs that not even a SPARTAN could keep up with without practice. Edward's Deadeye helmet automatically focused on the motion and doubled the zoom. It was a cool feature and quite useful when sniping, or at least it had been during the times he had had to practice with his sniper rifle. Technically, it wasn't his sniper rifle, but when he had been told to get ready for departure, he just couldn't leave it at the shooting range back on Earth. So he had taken it.

But for the moment, he needed to focus on Marcus's hand signs. /Hello Quin. SPARTAN Palmer wants us to be ready as soon as we get off the Pelican, which will be landing shortly at hangar 10.\

/What for?\

/I'm not sure, but be ready.\

The Pelican's vibration changed just enough that someone accustomed to feeling sound rather than hearing it could detect the change. The Pelican was inside Infinity, a fact that the others figured out only when the engine was cut off entirely.

As the ramp lowered, Juliette stood up and led the way off the Pelican, her bright, pastel coloured Venator armour glinting in the harsh flood lights built into the ceiling of the dock. Raj and Arianna hastily stood up in their red and purple armour as they tried to follow right behind Juliette. Marcus and Edmund brought up the rear, black Gungnir armour contrasting sharply with ice-blue Deadeye. Commander Palmer met them at the bottom of the ramp, leading a SPARTAN in full Wetwork armour, coloured white with golden highlights. A Legendary visor completed the deal. As Palmer opened her mouth to speak, Edmund got ready to lip-read. 'I'm sorry to cut the meet-and-greet short, but I need you to understand each other well, so SPARTAN Stephenson here is going to give you the grand tour of the War Games deck. I want you all to figure out the fighting styles of others and how to compliment the varied fighting styles. I picked each of you for a reason.'

Stephenson took off his helmet, revealing deep-set grey eyes and hair so dark that it was almost a deep, dark blue. Looking directly at Edmund, he opened his mouth slowly and deliberately so that he could lip-read. 'I looked over all of your files, and each of you seems capable. However, I must wonder why you didn't accept the ear grafts, Quin. They aren't like the crude civvie implants, you know. They don't hurt once the stem cells have been accepted. Now come on, the War Games deck is this way.'

As Stephenson walked away, Edward thought about his answer. Why had he said no to augmentations? As he remembered when they had offered to fix his ears when they did the augmentations, an answer came to him. Despite the fact that unlike the civilian implants, this military grade restructuring was one that he would never have ever been able to afford, Edward had said no. He was so used to the silence that noise would be too much. With a silent world, it was easy to disappear into the scope of his sniper rifle and focus somewhere far distant, somewhere with simple rules. Point gun at enemy. Pull trigger. Edmund wished all life was like that sometimes. He opened his mouth and carefully tasted each word that rolled past his tongue so that he knew it was right before it was said. "I have grown up in silence, and in silence I shall die. There would be too many stimuli if I could hear."

Stephenson nodded, not really listening, and then put his helmet back on. Edward saw the crew members that Nebula passed leaned in close and started to whisper. Edward was glad for silence just then. He was sure the other SPARTANs heard snatches of the whispering but never the whole conversation. He was glad he couldn't hear the words, but hoped they weren't hateful anyways. The word freak ran back and forth through his head. He saw it spelled in fire, the twisting tongues of flame searing the idea into his mind with burning pain, the smoke obscuring all else. Only the memory of a cruel boy with a big face, heavy brows and a long forehead. Although he looked as bright as a cockroach's tea room, Edward remembered his ten-year-old archenemy's hands, twisted into a deformed monster that he recognized as /Freak,\ the ugliness of the word matching the ugliness of the sign. That was the real reason he had denied implants. Although he doubted that Danny even remembered him except as the shy, quiet kid who couldn't hear his taunts and insults, Edward felt this need to prove that he could succeed without ears.

He was shaken out of his reprieve by Marcus gently signing, /We're here.\ Edward relaxed. These people had all had their share of problems. Even if he couldn't hear them, he had had to learn how to read lips and faces and people. Everyone carried themselves tall through the haunting ghosts of pain, but only because they had support. He would give his, whether with a sniper rifle a kilometre away or with a comforting word, despite the unnaturalness of the sounds he couldn't hear pouring out his mouth, and they would give theirs.

He quickly signed back, /Thank you.\ He strapped himself into the restraints so that he wouldn't injure himself and watched as the covering came down. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, just like he had reviewed on the flight over. He was fairly certain the others had too.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was glaring off of his visor, which had polarised automatically. Edward stood atop a rocky outcropping that ran parallel to a sheer cliff face. In below him stretched rolling hills, interrupted only by dip with metal girders. Off to one side lay a cave, which Edward idly noted would be useful for sniping if the outcropping upon which he stood became infested. Past all of this lay a ravine, which wrapped around and opened up, revealing crashing ocean breakers. The sides of the canyon before it opened up were bounded by a pair of metal staircases, one on each side. Up the staircases lay an open metal structure, from under which a waterfall cascaded.

A video of Stephenson popped up in the upper-left-hand-corner of Edward's visor. The helmet was off, and Edward lip-read, 'Hello SPARTANs. This is a simple game called Slayer. It was designed for all-purpose training, so your only goals are to kill enemy SPARTANs and not die. The objective here id to learn to work as a group, so I have received authorisation to give you whichever weapon you desire. Good luck, and kick Fireteam Opalescent's ass for me.'

A set of green markers popped up in the center of Edward's helmet. His eyes focused on the sniper rifle icon, and once the trackers in his helmet determined which one he was looking at, the sniper rifle picture glowed brighter. A thud reverberated through his boots a moment later when a burnished weapons pod cratered the ground in front of him. The side shot off and SPARTAN Quin grabbed the sniper rifle out of the pod. He felt the grip and laid down on the rock, starting the hunt for his first target.


A/N: I realise that there is a discontinuity about the War Games, but I think that there are multiple War Games rooms, and this one uses a slightly different design.