Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).
A/N: Just so there will be no misconceptions here, there are no pairings in this fic.
Finally, ongoing thanks to my betas, Tikigod and vrbtny. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian). Tikigod in particular deserves your praise as I'd say that a good half of this chapter wouldn't have come together as it did without him. For this, tiki, you can have one of my doomsday devices. Just don't press the the little red button and the big red button at the same time. That pushes it from apocalypse mode to divide by zero mode.
"They're Spartans, yes. But they're not your Spartans, at least not yet anyway." - Colonel George Yang
1500 Hours, October 21st, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS Pillar of Autumn, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 197.
John groaned as his mind returned to the land of the living. His entire body was writhing with pain, though he could feel the numbing effects of pain killers lingering in his blood stream. As his vision cleared up, the Commander noticed a few things. First, he wasn't on the floor and in his armor but rather on a very comfortable bed wearing a hospital gown with an IV drip in his arm and plenty of bandages all around his body. Second, in a medical bay of a UNSC ship with a few doctors and nurses milling around calmly tending to some of the wounded ODSTs. The final thing he noticed was that he wasn't without company.
"It's about time you woke up. Enjoyed your beauty sleep, Commander?"
Cortana's blue avatar was floating above a holotank next to his bed. Kelly was here too, wearing fatigues and sitting in a chair beside him. For a moment, she looked happy to see him awake, but that was quickly replaced with a scathing glare and a disapproving nod.
What the hell did he do deserve this?
"Where am I?" John asked groggily as he struggled to remember why he was laying in a med bay.
"You're back on the Autumn. You've been in a chemically induced coma for an entire week." Cortana answered.
Now it all came flooding back to him. The boarding action to seize the Truth and Reconciliation. Finding that … feral animal... happily butchering the Covenant before turning on him and Kelly. His fruitless attempts to stop Wa despite all of his attempts and the savage beating he had received for his efforts. The flashes of the shock trooper smashing him back and forth against the bulkheads before pummeling his midsection was enough to cause John to twitch with phantom pain.
"How do you feel, Sir?" Kelly asked as she passed him a bottle of water.
The commander gladly took the bottle and emptied its content down his parched throat. "Bad enough that I wished that you had kept me in that coma for another week."
Kelly handed John another bottle as Cortana spoke up. "Well, I assume that you'll want to know that we've rendezvoused with Admiral Stanforth's battle group in sector 197. The Autumn is undergoing repairs for battle damage while we're getting the Truth and Reconciliation back up to shape. With the intel we've taken, the Admiral is sending out prowlers to recon our next potential targets."
That was all good to hear. But that was not what he wanted to know right now.
"I guess that I have you to thank for routing in the back up."
"Yep. You might not have said anything, but an open channel with sound of someone getting their ass handed to them is the usually a call for back up." Cortana quipped.
"So where is he?"
"Fred has Wa locked in cargo bay five with Blue and Noble teams to guard the entrance." Kelly provided. "So far, Wa hasn't tried to leave."
At least they have him contained. "We should place a couple HMGs in the corridors to lock the entrance down."
"We don't have to do that, Sir." Kelly interjected. "He won't leave the bay. He has no reason to."
Before he could say anything else, Kelly gave John a look that made it clear that she wanted to talk right now.
Cortana picked up on it as well. "Oookay. I can take a hint. Call me when you're ready to continue with your briefing, Commander."
The AI flickered away. Kelly pulled the curtains to give them a little more privacy. For now, they weren't a Commander and a Lieutenant, but just two childhood friends.
"I'm glad you're fine, John, but you can really be an ass sometimes." Kelly began.
"What are you talking about?"
"You and Wa. The two of you trying to kill each other. That's what I'm talking about."
Now John was really confused. Kelly made it sound as if he had been responsible for his most recent near death experience.
"Why are you trying to defend him, Kelly? You were there. He tried to kill us. He tried to kill you."
"And I had him calmed down and about ready to stop right before you knocked me out of the way and pissed him off again. And there was something else going on in that fight. Something with you."
"I was trying to save us both. There was nothing else on my mind."
Kelly shook her head. "Oh, there was definitely something else there, John. I don't know what's going on, but when you got back up the second time... I don't know how to describe it, but if felt like you wanted to kill him just as much as he wanted to kill you."
John didn't bother responding to that line, instead letting the sheer ridiculousness of the notion sink in with Kelly.
"Okay, maybe not as much, but you get my point. You wanted to kill him when stopping him would have been enough. Need I remind you that he was ready to stop until you tried to burn him to a crisp and got yourself beaten to a bloody pulp for it."
John rolled his eyes. He didn't need to be reminded of that particular experience again. "I'll make a note to be a little more careful in that situation in the future. But I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for something like that to happen again outside of him."
"Don't try to dodge the question, John."
John sighed. How does he even begin to explain it to her?
"I don't know how to explain it, but there is just something about the entire Spearhead team that puts me off."
"It's more than that, John. Spearhead is more than a little quirky and I'm not going to try and defend them. But it's specifically something between you and Wa that worries me."
John didn't answer her. Usually, he was one to tackle problems head on, but this one that he simply wished would go away. Seeing that he wanted some time alone, Kelly left her chair and opened the curtain.
"Whatever you decide to do, John, just remember he's still a Spartan."
John laid back onto his pillow as Kelly closed the curtain behind her.
"No he isn't."
No Spartan enjoys inactivity, even for medical reasons. Spartan-117 was no exception, though the temptation to make this a one-off was there. It had been a few days since he had woken up. The other Spartans had visited him and brought reports when Cortana couldn't be bothered, but it was time to get back on his feet. The Commander stepped off of his bed and changed into fatigues.
"You know, mother warned me that a doctor's order doesn't mean much to you." Cortana commented.
John finished donning the black and green BDUs and turned to the AI. "I'll be fine. It's not like I'm running into battle right away."
"No, but I'm pretty sure that you'd do exactly that if the opportunity ever came up." Cortana sighed before deciding to continue with her briefing. "Why do I even bother? Anyway, the Autumn is going to require at least another two days in dock with the Ironworks to finish our repairs. We lost half of our weapons outside of the MAC during the fight but the shield and armor belt managed to keep the damage to the exterior hull. Would be sooner if the work crews didn't have to split their time with the Truth and Reconciliation."
"And why is HighCom sending Admiral Stanforth's entire battle group with us?"
"Well, they surmised that regardless of how stealthy we are going in, we'll probably wind up having to shoot our way back into friendly space after we bag a prophet."
John huffed at the idea. "That's reassuring. So how many ships do we have with us?"
"Aside from the Autumn and the repair platform Ironworks, we have three of the Autumn's sister ships and two carriers and their escorts. In the meantime, Colonel Yang is leading the effort to strip every non-essential piece of equipment from the Truth and Reconciliation and trying to record how the rest of it functions. He's also having me work on a couple side projects for him."
It was then that the aforementioned Colonel in his trademark black trench coat waltzed into the medical bay.
"Well, speak of the devil." Cortana commented.
The two officers exchanged salutes.
"You should be in bed, Commander." Yang began.
"I'm ready for duty now, Sir."
The colonel scoffed at the comment. "That's what Six tells me every time." Yang turned to Cortana and shook his head. "Spartans, they're all the same."
The AI simply giggled at the scene.
"Anyway, I'm here on business with the Commander and I need some time with him in private. Why don't you have yourself transfer over to the Truth and Reconciliation, Cortana. I'm going to need your help there with Project Minutiae."
At that piece of news, Cortana lit up like a child at a birthday party. "Admiral Stanforth approved it?"
The colonel simply nodded. Cortana flashed away in an instant, leaving a slight chuckle with the Colonel.
"She's easy to please, isn't she?"
"Project Minutiae, Sir?" John inquired.
"Just a little cyberwarfare project that I'm running. But I digress. I'm sure that you have some questions for me."
That's an understatement if John ever heard one. "Why didn't you tell me about Spearhead and 514 in particular, Sir?"
Yang's eyebrow piqued on that one. "Well, you should have asked. You're not a Master Chief anymore, Commander. Don't expect that kind of information to be handed to you on a silver platter."
John was truly shocked at the Colonel's sheer ambivalence with the matter. "I'd say that the mental state of the soldiers assigned to me is a matter worthy of a simple statement, Sir."
"True, but at the same point I imagined that you got around to talk to each of the Spartan-IVs. A Commander is expected to have the initiative to ask questions."
"Yes, Sir. I have no problems with Noble Team; they performed excellently. But the Spearheads... the sheer chaos that they've caused..."
"... and the number of lives they've saved?" The colonel interjected. "You've seen the combat footage. Tell me with your educated estimation how many lives would have been lost if the Nobles and the ODSTs had assaulted the Covenant positions without Spearhead team?"
John hated rationalizations, but he had to give the colonel this. The final phase of that engagement was essentially a frontal assault across an average of two hundred meters of open space against entrenched Covenant forces. By his own guess, sixty percent casualties would have been the absolute minimum.
"But enough about that. I imagine that you want to know more about Project Typhon."
At just the mention of the phrase, the imagine of that metallic skull and feral eyes flashed into John's mind. "I mean no offense, Sir, but you should have warned me."
"I would apologize for it, Commander, but it's a subject that Wa prefers to deal with himself." The Colonel continued. "Both the IVs and I myself respect his want for privacy in this regard. They rarely speak about it unless prompted. And I imagined that Wa gave you the whole 'stay the fuck out of my way' schtick that he gives to everyone he works with."
John scoffed at the Colonel. "That wasn't a friendly warning, Sir. That was a threat. And he wasn't exactly specific."
"Yes, well with Wa, the two are quite interchangeable. And he does use a lot of inference."
"I don't know what Ackerson did to him, Sir. But he's not human, is he?"
"No, I'd say that he's perfectly human. Well, more proto-human to be more precise."
"Proto-human, Sir?"
"Project Typhon required physical tolerances that far exceeded what any Homo Sapien could offer. So Ackerson decided to look a little farther back in the evolutionary ladder to meet his needs. He decided that what he needed was the brain of a Homo Sapien combined with the body of a Neanderthal. A man-animal, if you will."
Man-animal. That was the perfect description for 514.
"Even before Ackerson put the Shock Trooper candidates through his month long marathon of surgical augmentations, he was altering them, regressing them if you want, on a local genetic level. Their brains were left untouched, but everything else was altered. Just imagine, if an augmented Spartan without his armor is as strong as a Neanderthal, just how strong would one of those Neanderthals-turned-Spartan be? That was the logic behind it. Of course, the increased power had a corresponding decrease in mental control. And Ackerson was all but torturing them non-stop to make sure that they could tap that potential. Add to that accelerated universal cellular regeneration, redundant organs, system decentralization, skeletal replacement, and I'd say even the term "killing machine" doesn't properly describe him."
John shook his head. It still doesn't make sense. "Maybe it's just me trying to make sense of Ackerson's insanity, Sir, but he turned them into mindless killing machines. I can't understand how he would control someone like Wa."
Yang shook his head. "You're missing the point. The Shock Troopers were never meant to be controlled; they were meant to be unleashed, to smash a hole through the Covenant lines for the IIIs to exploit. In my own opinion, the fact that Wa has any control at all is a miracle and a testament to his willpower."
John eyed Yang suspiciously. "You call that an accomplishment, Sir? I've seen civilians with PTSD with more control than him."
"Well let's leave that matter aside for now. What's important at the moment is what you plan to do about the situation?"
Sitting in his hospital bed the last few days, John was left with a lot of time over the last few days to ponder what to do with 514. A more feral part of John just wanted to watch the shock trooper fly out the airlock, but John was a soldier, not an executioner. Though it could be seen as the coward's way out, John would be content to see Wa sent away to become someone else's problem. That, or they could just put him in an escape pod and shoot him down to some uninhabited world (A fair compromise in his opinion).
"I would appreciate it if you would have him transferred out when the Ironworks leaves, Sir."
Yang shook his head in disapproval. "Commander, remember what I said about stop thinking like a Master Chief. You're a commander now and the 1st Spartan Combat Group is your formation. You decide whether or not he stays. It's your decision to own. If you want him gone, then you just have to put in the paperwork. Just be prepared to live with the consequences."
Again, John was confused. "What do you mean by that, Sir?"
"The IVs know what Wa is and they accept him despite it. They consider him one of their own. I can tell you for certain that morale will drop like a rock with Noble and Spearhead teams. Aside from degrading Spearhead's staying power, you might have some unintended side effects with your decision."
"They're Spartans, Sir. They'll do what is expected of them."
A sad smile curled on the Colonel's lips. "They're Spartans, yes. But they're not your Spartans, at least not yet anyway."
Kelly popped the vent cover at cargo bay five, twisting her body to slip through. She could feel the cold sub-zero air on her face. He preferred this frigid temperature for some reason. At least this time she brought a jacket to keep her warm. It was so cold that her boots would stick to the floor a little with every pace as Kelly slowly weaved through the small maze of crates and boxes.
Kelly spotted her quarry sitting cross-legged on some crates, wearing his over-sized BDUs. Far from being bothered by it, the stinging cold seemed to bring him a rare measure of peace. His eyes opened to spot the newcomer. He already knew that it was her again. He probably heard her footsteps coming in, not that she was trying to hide them. Trying to sneak up on him was not only pointless and futile, but outright detrimental to her goals. The two stared at each other for a while, Wa's eerily calm gaze meeting Kelly's inquisitive eyes.
She was still amazed every time she looked at his face. While John had been in the medical bay for over a week getting patched up, Wa had already healed without even seeing a medic. The first time she had come to see him, the day after the incident, his face had only scar tissue and his missing eye was visibly growing back. By that night, one wouldn't know from looking at him that John had stabbed him in the eye and burned his face off. As a Spartan, she couldn't help but be slightly jealous of his far more impressive healing ability, though it still unnerved her somewhat.
"How are you feeling today?" Kelly began. She hoped for an answer this time, but didn't expect one. Every time she had sneaked in to talk to him, Wa wouldn't respond. He would just stare at her, sometimes mechanically, other times inquisitively. Still, she had a lot of questions and only Wa had the answers.
She hopped onto one of the crates and took seat opposite of 514.
"I'm not leaving this time until you say something." Kelly declared.
For the next twenty minutes, the two sat in the sub-zero cargo bay with not a word between them. Wa was nearly completely still while Kelly shivered slightly despite her coat and her best attempts to ignore the chill. Just as she was certain that frostbite was setting in, Wa stood up, walking over the the environmental controls and raising the temperature. A blast of warm air finally stopped Kelly's shivers.
"Thank you." Kelly said as she rubbed the feeling back into her face.
"You're very brave to come in here unarmed and without your armor." Wa responded, his voice oddly commending and threatening at the same time.
"I don't need it. You won't be able to catch me. Besides, I get the distinct feeling that you have no intentions of laying a hand on me."
"You're awfully confident considering that I put the Commander in the med bay and almost snapped your neck."
To Wa's surprise, Kelly smiled at him. "It's in your eyes. There's not a hint of malice behind them right now. I'm very good at reading what other people are feeling. You might as well wear your emotions on your sleeve."
Wa grumbled, which came out as a sort of growling noise, but Kelly remained calm. 514 was annoyed that she was getting underneath his skin, but he was far from enraged – something that gave Kelly a guilty sense of satisfaction.
"What are you here for?"
"Answers." Kelly responded. "And because I think that you could use some company."
Wa narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?"
Kelly maintained her poker face with an innocent smile. "Is it so wrong for a Spartan to want to spend some time with another Spartan?"
Wa let out an odd mix of a growl and scoff. "What makes you think that I'm really a Spartan?"
"It's in your designation, isn't? The Spartan Shock Trooper? And the IVs seem to think so. Considering that they're all in complete agreement about it, I think I'll defer to their judgment."
Wa scoffed at her statement. "Argumentium ad numerium, a classic fallacy of logic. And labels are just labels. In my case, a particular Colonel decided to slap 'Spartan' in front of the 'Shock Trooper' label."
Despite having just picked apart her argument, Kelly smiled at him. Then he realized that she had just tricked him into an actual conversation despite his attempts to avoid one.
"So there is an intelligent person underneath all that rage." Kelly noted.
"Leave me alone!" Wa roared. It was the first time since the fight that he showed any trace of rage. But as soon as it appeared, the shadow of that monster within him retreated as if it was unwilling to harm her. Kelly knew that she was pushing too far too fast for his comfort, but she wanted to help and she had to find his reason for letting her go.
"What is it you really want?" Wa all but groaned.
"Well for starters, I would like to know why you decided to let me live when you could have finished me off." Kelly said.
Wa's head dipped in resignation. "If I tell you, will you leave me be?"
Kelly nodded.
Wa's eyes were solemn as his voice when he finally gave Kelly her answer. "You and the commander. How you reacted when I was about to kill him reminded me of her."
This was it. Whoever "her" was, she was responsible for both her and John still being alive.
"Who was she?" Kelly inquired.
Wa gave no answer. Instead, he once again walked over to the environmental controls and killed the heating. As the bay's temperature slowly bled away into the vacuum, Kelly knew that she was at the end of his patience at least for today. She wasn't going to get anymore out of him for now.
"I appreciate you talking to me this time. I'll be back tomorrow." Kelly said before she pulled the vent cover off and stuck her leg through.
"Mei Ling." Wa said softly, barely loud enough for Kelly's augmented hearing to pick up on it. She turned around, meeting his gaze once more. "Her name was Mei Ling. She was my little sister."
They're Spartans, yes. But they're not your Spartans, at least not yet anyway.
What did the Colonel mean by that? Now back in the bunks with the other Spartans, John's mind couldn't help but wander back to those words as he cleaned his SCR. The Commander chastised himself. How did wondering whether or not to change the caliber of his rifle morph into a mental exercise in rhetoric?
At the corner of his vision, John spotted Kelly walking into the barracks. Oddly enough, she had a winter jacket in her hands. She put the coat aside and took to her customary bunk next to his own, saluting as she passed him.
"Where did you go that you needed a coat?" John asked.
"I just found this thing lying around. I'm going to hand it off to detail." Kelly answered, making sure that she looked away from John. Now he was piqued. Spartans are good at just about everything they've ever really put their mind to with with one singular exception: lying. Sure they had been trained to lie if it suited the mission, they had been trained with espionage in mind before the Covenant showed up after all, but they'd spent their childhoods – essentially their entire lives around one another. Kelly's body language alone spoke volumes. John wondered why she was even trying.
Before he could push the issue, though, a very loud disturbance filled the room. A small mass of people all but shoved their way through the Spartans to get to the Commander.
"Get the fuck out of my way!" Richard shouted as he pushed past Issac. Behind him, the four Spartans of Spearhead team followed. They formed up around John's bunk. The other Spartans turned their attention to them. All six members of Noble team closed to see what's going on.
"Sir, we need to talk." Nicole began.
"About what?" John asked.
"Cortana has informed me that you intend to transfer Wa out of the operation."
John mentally sighed. He should have seen this coming. "That's correct."
"Sir, I understand that it's well within both your jurisdiction and your right after the... incident... But I have to say that it would be a mistake."
John stood to meet them eye to eye. "With all due respect, Lieutenant, I think otherwise. I don't know what 514 is, but he's definitely not a Spartan. He has no place in this operation. Considering what he did, he's getting off light."
There was an air of desperation around the Spearheads with Nicole in particular as she continued. "Sir, that incident was a one off. I accept full responsibility for Wa's actions and I promise that I'll do whatever it takes to convince you that it won't happen again. What he brings to the fight justifies a second chance."
The Commander wasn't convinced otherwise; he doubted that anything could. "My decision is final, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
"Oh, fuck this shit!" Richard shouted. "Fuck that! And while we're at it, fuck you too, Commander!"
"Rich! Cool it!" Nicole chastised.
"No, Nikki. Not this time. Spearhead is a bundled package. You get rid of Wa, you lose me"
John had never experienced "silence so strong it was audible" off the battlefield before. He decided that it was just as unnerving now as it ever was. Not unexpected, considering a "Spartan" had just refused orders. John was starting to wonder if Mendez had actually trained any member of Spearhead.
Richard drew his sidearm, ejected the magazine, and threw the pistol at John's feet.
Jonathan drew his sidearm and did the same. "Me too."
His twin brother followed suit. "You won't have my rifle."
Nicole clenched her eyes shut and presented her pistol to her CO. She almost looked like she was in pain, but evidently her loyalty to her team trumped any loyalty she may have had to him. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't follow you in this case.
There was a visible twitch in John's stature. He was incensed, outraged even. He accepted Nicole's pistol. "I expected better from you." John said, his tone ice cold. "I've had enough of all of you. If you want to join him, then so be it. We'll complete this mission without you. Noble team, take them to cargo bay five."
Before anyone could say anything, there was the sound of another pistol magazine clinking onto the floor plates.
"You'll have to take me too, Sir." Kat announced as she let her pistol drop at John's feet.
"Kat!" Carter shout though clenched teeth. "Stand down!"
Kat looked at her CO with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry, Carter, but not this time."
"Kat, you don't have to do this." Steven said
"Yes, I do." Kat replied.
Nicole had a sad smile on her face. "Once a Spearhead, always a Spearhead."
Six looked on with pure confusion, though mixed with the expression of a passive neutral observer. Emile and Jun looked at Kat with part sorrow, part understanding, and part admiration. They won't follow her, but it was evident that a part of them wished that they could. Jorge nodded with understanding, but it was clear whose side he was on.
John's eyes were wide as he stared at the assembled Spartan-IVs, anger momentarily forgotten as his mental image of a Spartan nearly collapsed before his eyes. The Spearheads were traitors and the Nobles still have sympathy for them! He had the presence of mind to keep his mouth closed as Kelly gripped his arm. Her eyes told him that she was with him no matter what, but they were also pleading him not to do this. Nevertheless, the chain of command had been violated. Even if he had wanted to, John could show no mercy to traitors.
John clenched his knuckles, anger returning. "No Spartans." He cursed the Spearheads. Nicole and Kat flinched at the verbal stab, but the rest of Spearhead team remained defiant. "We'll finish this mission without any of you. Still, if you're going so far as to defect as a team, I suppose it won't be too hard for you to get your asses down to cargo bay five as a team."
Nicole and Kat saluted him less than enthusiastically as they turned and left while Richard and the twins presented the one finger salute. When they were gone, John turned around and slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a visible dent, and making the normally stoic Spartans present jump.
How could this happen? Spartans were supposed to be the ideal soldiers. The twins and Richard, John grasped as the mistakes of the Spartan program. But he just couldn't wrap his head around Nicole and Kat. Until now, they were true Spartans to him. He looked up, briefly.
"On second thought, Will, go make sure they don't make any detours."
"If I may, Sir." Carter interjected, his tone sad and conflicted. "They are our own. Please let Noble team escort them down. We'll guard them and make sure nothing else happens."
The only response the remaining Nobles got from the Commander was a weak nod. No one was willing to break the awkward silence.
John's arms strained as he benched the heavily laden barbell. Despite his recent injuries, the commander was pushing 500 kg, enough that even Sam would have been envious. He had crossed a hundred reps a long time ago. But the sting was infinitely better than letting his mind wander back to the disaster mere hours ago. Scuttlebutt around the ship had caught wind of what happened in the Spartan barracks. Rumors were floating about thanks to the ODSTs, some so sulfurous that it made John want to spit. He wanted to get away from the barracks, away from the scene where he had just fractured his command.
The Commander racked the bar and lifted himself from the bench to stretch. There were plenty of people around, but they all gave the Spartan a wide berth. There was an air around him explicitly warned others from bothering him.
But one man dared to grab John's attention.
"Care to join me, Commander?"
John turned his head to the boxing ring where Major Silva was leaning forward onto the ropes. Like John, the ODST wore a simple black and green gym shorts and tank top.
"Unless you don't think that you're up for it." Silva continued in a mocking tone. "That was quite a beating you took. No one would blame you for taking it slowly."
A small crowd was gathering; they could smell the bad blood in the air.
Lt. McKay stepped forward from the crowd. "Sir..."
Silva raise his hand to cut her off, his venomous stare never leaving the Spartan. "It's okay, lieutenant. Just a little friendly sparring. Right, Commander?"
John felt an uncomfortable sense of deja vu. He knew almost too well that he shouldn't rise to Silva's baiting. He more than anyone else knew how this would probably end. But for him, any distraction was better than thinking about Noble and Spearhead Team. There was also the fact that a part of him wanted to settle the situation between him and Silva, and by extension all the ODSTs, once and for all.
Spartan-117 stepped into the ring.
The two soldiers shook hands, but their grip was iron and lingered for a moment longer than needed. Despite the crushing grip, Silva was steady with a lethal grin on his face. The two soldiers parted and took their stance. The marines and crewmen made bets with the ODSTs cheering on their CO. The only exception to all of this was Lt. McKay, looking on with worry. She knew that there was very real possibility that only the Commander would walk out of that ring alive.
John made the first strike, a quick jab to Silva's abdomen with his motion slowed down to prevent any injuries and to make for a fair fight. Silva parried the blow and made his own strike. The two went back and forth for a couple of minute, testing the others defenses.
"Heard about the little situation you got yourself into back on the covie ship." Silva mentioned as he attempted to sweep John's right leg.
"If you want to talk, Major, I suggest that you limit it to matters pertaining to the two of us." John replied as he closed into the arc to block Silva's strike, attempting to bump the ODST's leg up to catch his thigh. Silva backed off before he was caught in John's trap.
"Oh, but I think that it is pertinent to the two of us, not to mention the mission." Silva continued with his taunts as he rushed in, trying to force John into a clench. After seeing John backing off, Silva did the same to maintain his stance. "It was another Spartan that beat you to within an inch of your life. It raises the question of the mental stability of a major element in this mission's strike force."
John mentally kicked himself for actually paying attention to Silva's taunts. Worse still, they were working. The Spartan's jaws clenched as John struggled to remain in control.
"It was that big one, wasn't it?" Silva asked as he launched another jab. This time, he didn't hold back, but John blocked the blow without any difficulty. The mad grin on the helljumper's face could have been mistaken for a hyena. "Must have been brutal. I saw how that freak was tearing into the covies with his bare hands. I've seen the hunters be more merciful than he was."
The two clashed again, this time locking into a clench. "You have a point, Major?" John said through clenched teeth, exerting himself to hold back rather than holding Silva in the lock.
Silva chuckled. "My point, Commander, is that frankly, I find it refreshing. I mean, you're all freaks, but at least that one is honest about being a murderous automaton who'd slaughter a couple Marines just as soon as he'd kill a goddamn squiddie."
Comparing him to that man-animal was one step too far. The last of John's already tested restraint was broken, unleashing the Spartan's full fury. Silva buckled as John muscled him under before landing a solid punch across the ODST's chest. The powerful blow sent Silva flying across the ring with a hard landing.
John was on him right away. He pinned the helljumper down with his left hand on Silva's neck. The other drew back to finishing strike.
"No!"
John heard someone shout from behind. Then something wrapped around his right arm. He looked to see Lt. McKay trying to hold him back from what was surely a killing blow.
"Please, sir. " McKay begged. "It's over. You've won."
"Go ahead. Do it." Silva struggled to say with his neck still in John's grip. "Kill me. Just like you killed my entire team on the Atlas."
The Atlas.
John remembered that ship. That was almost twenty seven years ago, right after the augmentation and right before his first taste of live combat. He had still been getting used to his augmentations when a group of ODSTs had picked a fight after a misunderstanding. A sergeant had tried to contain the situation by putting them in the ring, similar to the current situation.
It hadn't worked back then either.
They attacked.
He fought back.
They were all dead in seconds. He hadn't meant to kill them, but they were nothing but broken bodies at his feet. It would have been more merciful to have shot them.
Now he understood why Silva despised him. John had butchered Silva's entire team without blinking an eye.
His grip on Silva's neck loosened and John back away from Silva. McKay attempted to help her CO, but Silva brushed her off and brought himself to his feet. Despite having been taken to the ground, he was still defiant as if wanting another round with the Spartan.
"It was a set up." John said, more to himself than to Silva. "ONI wanted it to happen to see what my augmentations could do. They attacked me. It wasn't my fault."
Silva stumbled, hacking and coughing up as he spat blood onto the mats. "Bullshit! That's no excuse. You killed them! Their blood is on your hands!"
John went still. Silva's words echoed in his head, giving him a mild headache within seconds. He cursed as he turned and left. Who or what he was cursing, even he wasn't sure.
Things had been so much simpler when he was just a Master Chief.
