L is for Live

(Post Halo 3)

It was a nice-enough place to live, John supposed. Perfect little houses on a perfect little street in a perfect little town a mile outside of the city. However, that didn't stop him from turning to look at Cortana and say, "Please, tell me you are joking."

"You don't like it?"

"It… it's too… not me."

"Hmm." The construct eyed the neighborhood. "It seems nice enough."

"The people here would probably resent our early-morning training sessions."

"Naw, ya think? What is Lord Hood thinking, letting you Spartans out into the private sector?"

"I think HE should be the one getting the psych exam." John tapped the gas pedal, and the Warthog rolled forward down the street as the pair continued looking at the houses; their flawless symmetry made the rampant artificial intelligence want to blow them up. "Are we done here? We've already decided that we don't like it here."

"What's this 'we,' kemosabe? You're the one who's going to be living here."

"Huh. Really?"

"I am still the property of the UNSC, Chief."

"I thought that Doctor Halsey assigned you to be my caretaker in the private sector."

"Did she?" Cortana was silent for a moment as she checked. "Okay, I guess she did."

"Which means that we need to find a place that you like, too."

"I'll be happy if we have Internet access so I can post incriminating videos of you on Youtube."

"You dinosaur, Youtube's been dead and gone for decades."

"Damn. On to the next neighborhood?"

"And here's hoping it isn't crime-infested or too perfect."