Hey, guess who's back? Definitely not this guy! Nah, I'm sorta back. I originally was gonna put this story on hold but...em...Insanepyro's shotgun poses a very good argument so I'll just post a little something so I don't get my ass blown off.

And to feeux11, I'm glad you like the story and I really appreciate you pointing those two things out to me. And yes, you are right, I wasn't trying to stay strictly cannon here and I'm not sure if I made a note of that when I started that story. Thank yous for reminding me about that.

So basically this chapter doesn't have a lot of action, a bit of talking. It was originally going to be longer, but I decided that I can wait another chapter or two for the important stuff. Just in case someone misses it, we've done a nice little time skip by two years in the story. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this wimpy excuse for a chapter.


Chapter Eleven: Greatest Success

December 3, 2551 02:23 Hours

Unknown Location

The rebel trooper shivered in his boots as he stood watch near the entrance to the cave. It wasn't a particularly large camp compared to some of the others. It was more of a safe house for any wounded allies that happened by or from other camps.

The thought of what was going on at the other rebel outposts made the rebel shudder. He had heard the Spartan that was now after them. To them, he was the devil himself.

Survivor accounts stated that the Spartan was dark, ominous and totally merciless until he found someone to spread the word of his doings. And the word spread like wildfire. Entire garrisons wiped out. Half of the prime rebel leaders were dead.

Beheadings…

Torture…

Rumor also had it he sometimes used Covenant wrist blades to do more of his nasty work.

The rebel snorted. Could the Spartan even be referred to as a human being with the acts he committed against the rebels? Sure, they were enemies and the rebels had done their fair share of horrors, but nothing compared to this.

There was a snap nearby. The rebel raised his rifle and turned to the side.

"Who's there?" he called. No answer. "What's the password?"

"Lightening! Asshole…" came the reply. "I need a hand, I gotta slug in my leg." The rebel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, I'm coming, hang in there." He shouldered his rifle and trotted over to the voice. When he turned around a boulder he felt something hard and cold wrap around his neck and raise him into the air. He gagged but fell still when he saw who was holding him.

The Spartan…

The Spartan stared at him through his darkened visor. He was still, and showed no effort restraining the rebel. The rebel whimpered in fear, trying to release himself from the Spartan's grip.

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many are in the camp?"

"About a…a dozen…" choked the rebel. The grip tightened around his neck. "I'm not l-lying…there's twelve guys. There's some wounded too…and one of our bosses." The Spartan nodded and smashed the rebel against the rock.

Grey looked at the bloodstain on the boulder, then at the crumpled body on the grass. He gathered up the extra ammo and went to the entrance to the camp. No dots appeared on his motion tracker.

The past two years had seemed to pass quickly. Grey had built a dark reputation for himself among the personnel at the base. Most people avoided him besides Samson, Erick and Norman.

He had been on almost a hundred missions by now. All of them black ops; all of them messy, all of them ending in success…

Over thirty major strongholds had been destroyed by Grey. The numbers of the rebels on Mamore were diminished severely- about two entire militia groups. Out of the twelve HVTs, only three were left. Grey couldn't help but smirk, just a little. Soon it would be two.

Grey had been visiting Norman regularly for a time. They had become friends. Grey knew he went there to help him recover fully, but most of the time he went to the clinic just to enjoy his company. And sometimes all they did was just talk about anything other than Grey and his troubles. But after the first year with little progress and Grey deciding which path he should follow, Grey had started to get more nightmares, not only of what happened to his team, but what he was doing. The pain was still with him, as was the anger. He had taught himself to conceal these emotions.

Doing so made him talk little now. His visits with Norman were less frequent. This disappointed Grey, and he knew he shouldn't skip. He felt guilty, because he knew Norman enjoyed talking to Grey.

Grey felt that against his wishes, he was just becoming a soldier. A Spartan…

That's what he was, anyways. A Spartan! He was trained to be a ruthless, killing machine. This was his job. Grey hated telling himself that, but he knew it was the truth. Was it the truth though?

Grey planned on talking to Norman soon. Last time Grey had given him every detail of what happened on Piltran. Norman had listened intently and when it was time to leave, Norman said that he was getting a better grasp on things than his conclusion in their first meeting.

Grey headed into the cave. He only had to go in about fifty meters before he came across the camp. He used his automag to shoot out a few lights that had been set up before switching back to his SMG.

A guard had his back to Grey and was looking around, cussing out loud about the generator.

Grey came up behind him and grabbed the guard by his hair, pulled his head backwards onto the barrel of his SMG and fired half of the clip into him.

Moving into the next part of the cave Grey came across most of the garrison which were tending to the wounded. The room was raggedy. The wounded were on the floor, moaning, covered with dirty bandages.

They all looked up at him. Grey pulled the suppressed assault rifle and held it with one hand, holding the SMG with the other. He unloaded both clips into the garrison, cutting all of them down.

He reloaded both weapons before drawing his automag. Grey walked to each wounded rebel who was left and fired a round into their head.

Grey remembered that in one of his recent conversations with Erick that he still believed that the fighting between humans was wrong. But he reminded Grey that rebels were like weeds. 'You let'em sit for a while and then a whole bunch sprout. You try an' stamp'em out, but more just keep coming.'

The way Grey interpreted it, Erick said that to rid themselves of the rebel menace, they would have to eliminate every single one of them. Grey had recently decided to stop letting people go- they all knew him anyways.

Erick and Grey talked a lot more nowadays. It was sort of like talking to Norman, except Norman was a bit of a fatherly type and Erick could talk to Grey like a friend. Grey hoped he could call him a friend. Grey had to give him credit- Erick could talk and talk while Grey usually said very little. Grey realized it was hard for anyone to have a conversation with him. Probably because he was really fitting into that Lone Wolf persona Erick had mentioned.

Maybe that's why most people at the base avoid me…

Grey was still meaning to ask Erick how he had known his name. It still kept Grey intrigued but he was waiting for the right time to ask.

Erick was a good guy but Grey could see that a question like that might cause something to happen. Whether it would be good or bad, he didn't know.

'People do not understand the gravity of words.' Ivan used to say that a lot.

Grey searched for a bit until he found HVT Seven. He was standing as far away as he could. He raised a pistol.

"You think you can scare me!" he yelled. Grey knew he was afraid. HVT Seven was visibly shaking, his voice stuttering. Grey raised his pistol. "You think by killing me this whole-" Grey didn't wait for him to finish.

He had heard enough speeches by the HVTs already. They all seemed to have this common mindset that their final words conveyed some kind of important meaning to their fight. All Grey heard was nonsense.

Silently, Grey turned and exited the cave.

Six Hours Later…

Samson laughed as Grey finished telling him the report.

"You didn't even let him finish, that's rather funny." Samson shook his head then cleared his throat, trying to look professional. "Well done. Soon enough we shall be able to take out the rebels on this planet for good- all thanks to you."

Grey nodded, not moving from his seat. He knew Samson wanted to say more. Samson leaned back, sighing as he stared at a terminal screen. "You have become one of my finest assets. I tell you something needs to be destroyed, someone needs to be killed, and you go and get it done. You're very dependable Grey."

Again, Grey responded with a nod. "These rebel assholes are shitting themselves just thinking about you. Their operations have practically stopped. Because of you! You! One man, against everything; truly amazing…" Samson shook his head, holding his chin. "I'm glad we're finally wiping this scum away."

Grey had gathered from what he seen and heard over the past two years that Samson really despised the rebels. And today he had been planning to ask why. Plans, I gotta lot of those.

"Sir, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, my boy!" Grey frowned under his helmet. Samson had grown fond of Grey, calling him 'boy' or 'son'. Grey didn't like it, but never commented about it.

"Why do you hate the rebels so much, sir?" Samson's eyes seemed to drift away for a moment. He was remembering something. Samson took a long, deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"I had a daughter…" he said quietly. "She was all I had left. She was my joy, my happiness…my life- everything. And one day, she was taken away by rebels. I searched as much as I could, but the rebels had her. Murdered her…" Samson looked down, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at Grey. "I swore revenge. That's why I am here. To make every, single one of these monsters pay…" He smiled. "I can compare myself to you and that trooper, on your first mission."

Grey raised an eyebrow under his helmet. "You knew that trooper had undergone unimaginable pain, so you made the enemy pay for it dearly. They murdered my daughter in the most horrendous way, caused me pain beyond grasp…and I am simply making them pay. An eye for an eye, just as you said." Samson nodded. "And you, you are helping me do it. You are my grim reaper. You are my greatest success."

Grey said nothing. How? How am I your success?

"Well, anyways, good work today. I have a big mission for you, one that you may not be able to do alone."

I sincerely doubt that. "But that will wait until tomorrow. Get some rest."


AW SHIT, WHAT'S GOIN' ON TOMORROW? I think you guys'll like the next chapter. Probably going to be longer than most, hopefully lots of action, little less talk. Of course, it may take a little while since I'm so friggin' popular OFF THE INTERNET THAN ON IT! BWHAHAHAHA!

*Ahem* What I mean, a lot of people around my school, now that they've got a glimpse of my writing that I started one day during class now ask me to write a little story for them. Tied between that, I've also started my own original story called 'Day of Saints'. If you want to learn about that you should check out my Deviantart profile (RadiationSoap). I recently took down a lot of my writing on their, so you'll see the two prologues for my new story and a prologue to a stupid story I wanted to write. There isn't a lot of information on 'Day of Saints' but I think it will give enough to get a picture of it.

Speaking of pictures...ah, never mind. Thanks for reading.