0202, January 11th, 2543 [MILITARY CALENDAR/] Inner Colony Hotor, Huntington Industries Headquarters
Silence rings inside of my ears as I take the right flank beside my partner, a figure cloaked entirely in black. I raise a fist and count down. Andron readjusts himself and keeps the flashbang grenade primed in his hand.
Upon reaching the final number, I rise from my position and kick the door in. Andron wastes no time in throwing the grenade inside. We both shield our eyes as a brilliant flash of lightning illuminates the darkened space, making the occupants inside cry out in surprise.
I storm in first and quickly mark twelve armed guards with our target cowering in the rear behind a desk. I target six of the twelve and give them a single shot, each directly to the head. The guards fall to the ground, dead, and the office room is left with only one occupant.
"Clear!" I call once doing a quick sweep revealing no further threats. "Clear," Andron confirms after doing the same. The hulking Spartan approaches the desk and doesn't hesitate to grab it and send it skidding across the room, revealing our contract.
I see the weapon before the man even has a chance to think about firing it. Having been to the right of the other Spartan, I was able to react quickly and descend upon the Insurrectionist and get the gun before he harmed either one of us.
"Quit your bitchin'," Andron says as I hold our contract to the ground and wrench the weapon from his hands. Bones crack and poke through his skin as I free the gun and send it clattering across the floor. "You bastards! Do you even know who I am?!" the man screeches. Andron chuckles and crouches down in front of him. "Nezquill Koll. Civilian ID number 0892-NK, CEO of Huntington Industries. Wanted for insurrectionist actions against UNSC personnel and the illegal distribution of military weapons," the Spartan says, repeating the information on his dossier. "We know exactly who you are."
Andron has always been better at remembering the fine information on our targets. I see no real point in it, but don't really mind when he starts spewing it for the contract to hear. It's always worth the reaction.
"Once your superiors hear about this, then you'll regret it!" He snaps, spitting at us in the cold dark air of the windowless room. I wrench him to his feet and cuff his wrists. "I am sure our superiors will not know what you are talking about," I say innocently. "As far as they know, you were arrested by local police forces and found guilty after trial," Andron adds with a light tone. Nezquill begins trying to struggle in my grasp, but his efforts are futile as I hold tightly onto him. "You can't do this! I am a prominent business man, I have rights!" he yells. We don't respond to him as we descend the building and reach the ground level.
A very large number of policemen are surrounding the scene and keeping the civilians at bay. We stay well away from their prying eyes and cameras as we hand off the man to them. "Thank you for ending this peacefully," the head sergeant says upon approaching us. "Mister Koll here has told us that he doesn't want to visit jail, so you can send him straight to prison," Anrdon says. "Jubanen prison will find that he is going to be incarcerated for a long time, Sergeant. So make it pretty for him."
A faint smile pulls at the Sergeant's sharp features and he nods and he has his officers take the former CEO out into the public eye. But just as he is about to turn away, Andron grabs his shoulder. "Oh, one thing, just remember that we were never here."
It holds a sense of victory to watch your contract being detained and taken away to the place they're supposed to be in. And It's even better when the whole event draws a crowd that presses in like a swarm of insects following the action. But we're fortunately not part of it all as we leave to the rear of the building and walk back to our shuttle which sits inside of the docking area near the police station. The shuttle rests nestled in the far corner of the bay and looks as if it would melt into the shadows if allowed to.
The planetary sensors intentionally let the ship slip past undetected and dock with an invisible dot just outside of the planet's orbit. The dot disappears off of the radar just as fast as it had appeared.
"Welcome back, Headhunters. By the reports on planetwide news, I can assume that it went well," Procarron, the shipboard AI, says as we leave the shuttle and proceed deeper into the Prowler. Andron frowns as he examines a new dent on his armor from one of the guards having hit him with his gun. "For the most part," the Spartan replies vaguely.
The ride home takes only a week and the dusty skies are welcoming after being gone for so long. The rest of my team had taken on contracts at about the same time as I had and we were once again the first ones back. It was also strange knowing that the next contract I take on would be without a mentor.
It was a quiet few days that I had to relax before being called to the directors office in the main building. And then it was a scary one. I have never been called to her office before. The other Headhunters say it isn't normally bad when you're called, but it still makes me nervous.
The air seems to become noticeably colder the closer to her office I get. The activity through the halls begins to cease and everything is quiet once the door chime alerts the woman to my presence.
A moment later, I am let through and revealed to a very clean looking office with a dark metal desk sitting in front of a set of monitors and communication devices.
Director Nylen sits at a mobile chair that is firmly planted behind the desk. Her blond hair flows freely around the left side of her shoulder and sits just below the neckline of her shirt. Despite her beautiful appearance, the rough exterior of her soldier life shows through by way of an old scar just barely missing her right eye and a crooked nose which bends awkwardly to the left.
She gestures for me to sit down and I do so. I then keep my hands in my lap as I wait for her to speak.
"I must congratulate you for your work with Mr. Koll. Agent-801 told me in a report that you performed a text book takedown, and he tells me that you are ready to take your next one alone," she says. That surprises me but I don't allow myself the emotions behind the news. "Thank you, ma'am," I respond.
Her friendly tone drops and she tents her hands over the desk. "But I did not call you here commend you. As you know, Mr. Koll was scheduled to be transferred to an off-world prison. Reports from several hours ago tell us that the transport ship Correspondence has disappeared from radar and is not answering any means of contact. A local outpost in sector 864 reported sightings of the transportation ship en route to Hiyao III, a well known smugglers planet. We have reason to believe that it is their intention to smuggle Mr. Koll into Insurrectionist hands and away from our reach," Nylen says and straightens up, a flash of emotions playing across her face. "This is where you come in, Agent-312. I have decided it is time for you to receive your own set of Mjolnir power armor to take on your next contract."
She then stops and waits for a reaction on my part, but is only rewarded with a stoic stare. "Thank you, ma'am. I will put it to good use," I say. It's obvious that I am incredibly excited, but I refuse to show it to the director. She then nods and gestures towards the door. "Agent-801 will meet you in the hangar bay where you will take a Warthog to the planetside development facility which is a few hours away. You will be deployed directly from the facility to the orbiting station where you will find a surprise waiting for you," Nylen says. Her expression falls once again upon relaying the last bit of news. "I regret to inform that you will not be given much training with your power armor because of the urgency of this mission. But I have confidence that you will do good, Agent. Dismissed."
I snap a salute and leave the room with thoughts and emotions swirling around in my mind. I move through the base and find my ride waiting for me in the hangar bay. Among a dozen other Warthogs sits a black reinforced beast. It's a special vehicle that ONI modified to have thicker armor and explosive rounds for the mounted chaingun. The ONI Warthog is something of a beauty.
Andron appears from the passenger side. He is wearing his ONI sanctioned uniform which compliments his tanned skin. A standard MA6 Magnum is strapped to his hip and a combat blade sits snugly on his thigh. His dark hair is tousled after a long night of good sleep. "How's my favorite Beetle?" the Spartan asks with a grin.
Andron had found and read a detailed, and highly classified, report of the ten years I had trained in Project Freebird and found the report of when I crawled under my bed and had to be dragged out by an instructor. Since then, he has nicknamed me "Beetle". I don't find offence to it and just ignore him when he begins rattling on about the incident.
"Adequate. Is the Warthog ready?" I ask. "Someone's feeling awfully stiff today. Swallow a board, did you?" Andron asks, cocking an eyebrow. I don't answer, but jump into the passenger's seat. I smooth out my uniform and think about doing the same to my hair, but check the nervous habbit and keep my hands stationary. Spartan-801 grabs the side of the Warthog and jumps into the driver's seat, making sure his boots clear the edge. After a short check of the vehicle's systems, he starts up the engine. The Warthog comes alive with a mighty roar and he rolls it out of the hanger and out onto the open tarmac.
After passing a security checkpoint, we leave behind the high walls of the base and begin following a long road straight into the outerlaying mountains. Dirt kicks up in our wake after last night's dust storm had grounded all incoming and outgoing traffic, making us the first people to use the road since then.
The long trip gives me a little time to relax and doze off, the vibrations from the Warthog's tires lulling me into a light sleep.
We pass through a beautiful mountain range with two gigantic hills towering over us on both sides. The road winds sickingly around steep drop-offs and hairpin turns before finally straightening out after several miles. And as we come around a final sharp turn, our destinations hits us in the face.
One moment it wasn't there, not even a whisper, and all of a sudden a close clutter of buildings rises from behind a hill. The buildings are ringed with tall razor-wire and a good number of guards patrolling the perimeter. Hornets buzz overhead and glare down at us as we approach the base. The roar of our engines alerts someone and we are soon greeted by a not-so-friendly soldier in a Warthog who quickly stops us. His gunner lazily aims the mounted LAAG at us, but I ignore the security measure and focus on the driver who had gotten out and is approaching us.
"This is a restricted area. State your business," the Soldier says in a tight tone. "We were sent from Gammer," Andron says vaguely. That's when the man spots the ONI emblems patched onto our uniforms. He visibly stiffens up and waves us forwards without another word.
I am used to these reactions. They stare out of the corner of their eyes, whisper quietly, and shoot nasty looks at us. I am told it's because we work for ONI, and I'm beginning to understand people don't like the Office of Naval Intelligence very much. But no matter. I work for them and have no problems with them, so I can easily stand the looks.
It seems that Andron knows where he's going because he winds through the tightly bound buildings where he finally pulls up to a squat building with only a single door.
As soon as we set foot inside, we are asked to remove any metal we have on us for a metal detector. Andron shakes his head and says that we're from ONI. The guard's face flushes and he only waves us through without checking us.
"What was that about?" I quietly ask Andron as we step into a sort of service elevator and begin descending down a metal shaft. "Being an ONI Agent has its advantages," he says with a smile, keeping his eyes focused on the walls in front of us.
It seems like we have fallen miles before the elevator comes to a slow stop and lets us out. The room at first was dark, but powerful lights snap on overhead to reveal a large cavern-type chamber.
At one end of the chamber are a series of buildings that crawl from the ground to the ceiling. From there on is a terrain of hills and cliffs with a small stream bubbling through the middle. A nearby obstacle course reminds me of the days before I was put into Freebird. Live fire exercises, razor wire mud crawls, and jungle gyms.
But what catches my eye is a plexigass manequin standing free in a clearing. A group of scientists surround it and part as we approach. But sitting on the mannequin is a suit of dark green armor and a matte undersuit.
"There she is, looking just as fresh and green as when I saw my own," Andron says, hands on his hips. He then steps back as the head Scientist approaches me and tells me that I will be fitted with the armor, and to be absolutely still.
Fifteen minutes later, a suit of air sits around my body, encasing me in protective metal. Then the helmet is placed on my head. The HUD comes online and I am seeing the world through a crisp filter. IFF tags light up over the heads of each scientist, but when I look at Andron it simply puts a question mark over him. The suit responds to my neural implant and translates my thoughts to actions. It remarks Andron with his Spartan number and name.
After a short series of tests, I am ready for the obstacle course. Andron leads me over to it and my gaze scans the course before spotting a small lip on the side. It bypasses each of the challenges by leading just behind them. I hit the magnification on my visor and everything jumps forwards. I then spot Marines in some of the livefire slots taking the safeties off of their weapons. "This won't be long," I say, using the helmet's speakers. My voice comes out much deeper and more intimidating than I know I sound like.
I jump up onto the lip and crouch down, melting into the shadows. I can hear the scientists nearby gasp in surprise as I disappear from sight.
Upon nearing the automated miniguns, I come up from behind and snap their motors. Their barrels slope to the ground and I quickly make my way behind them and find the Marines watching through their slits. None of them expect, or even see, the next attack that takes them all out without a word uttered or a shot fired. I don't kill them but I do break a few bones, and may have put one of them into a coma.
After a short walk, I come back to where I started and give one of the Marine's Magnums to the head scientist who just stares at me in shock. "What is next, sir?" I ask. "Um...your Prowler," he mumbles. He then snaps out of it and nods towards the largest expanse of the chamber. The cieling opens up into a vast tunnel that rises upwards into darkness. And indeed, as we near the clearing, a Prowler sits in the middle. Its sleek build and blackened hull reminds me of a shadow waiting to pounce. Andron says its reminds him of my fighting style.
"This is where we part, Beetle. I've got my own stuff to do, but you enjoy your new toy," he says with a smile. "And between you and me, I hope you kill that bastard. He's caused us enough trouble anyways."
With that parting comment, he leaves back up the elevator. I enter the Prowler, and go into the cockpit where a shipboard AI greets me. Its avatar projects from a small pedestal on the left side of the consoles. He emits a deep purple glow and has his hands clasped behind his back. "Greetings, Agent-312. I am Areolen, your shipboard Artificial Intelligence. I am here to serve wherever you may go and..." the AI pauses and gives a sort of malicious grin. "...whomever you may kill."
I drop into the pilot's seat and begin the start-up sequence. "Pleasure to meet you, Areolen," I say. I watch the consoles light up and listen to the deep rumble of the engines as they come online. "If you need to, I can fragment myself and accompany you inside of your armor," the AI says as I set a path for orbit. "You're a smart AI?" I ask, looking at the avatar. He smiles and his avatar flashes, its glow partially illuminating the controls. "You can say that," he says.
The prowler begins slowly rising out of the chamber. The walls of the tunnel obstruct my view until the cieling suddenly opens up, flooding my view with light. Dust falls down onto the nose of the ship and settles momentarily before dropping away as I clear the tunnel and rise into the sky.
The ground falls away once the ship picks up speed, and the atmosphere slowly fades away upon leaving the planet. "Activating stealth drives," Areolen says. The viewscreen shimmers for a moment then steadies. I know we are now invisible to both sight, sound, and radar. I leave the cockpit once we're on a safe path and tour my ship.
Originally equipped to hold ninety people, my specific Prowler has been downgraded to be flown by a single person. There is a mess hall of sorts, a single bedroom, and multiple other rooms that had been converted into storage. There is a gym with a plethora of training equipment, and an armory. The armory is what interests me most because it holds a lot of weapons and technology that I have never seen before.
I decide to go over what I may need for my next mission and find that I will be going in without much weighing me down.
"ETA to Smugglers planet: three hours," Areolen announces after the Prowler enters slipspace. "Alert me when we arrive," I tell the AI. I then retreat to my quarters to wait out the trip and mentally prepare for whatever may happen next.
