Chapter 20: Cat kills Mice

Ful walked out into the scorching sun. He lifted his arms with slight effort as he looked towards the gathering of the soldiers. Each one waited for their orders, but orders were something he had none of to give out. He looked at the base patrol and ordered for it to be tightened by assigning more guards to the duty. One of his last ditch orders to give for whenever he runs out of ideas.

"Sir, is that all?"

"Yes, for now," Ful pointed to the Banshees and followed up his statement. "But be prepared to launch those in the event of enemy presence within our territory."

"Understood!" They all shouted in unison. Ful walked back into the building where his bed lied cold, awaiting his return. He took out his communicator and looked at the profile photo of his sister from the bios of all in the squad. This is the only picture I have of you now. You never were one to be very attracted to the idea of picture taking. Ful took in a deep breath as he recalled his sister's intense determination to kill the humans. Was it worth dying over? He gently sat down and studied the scar on his abdomen's side. I wonder if this mission is worth even finishing now for me. Ful lied down slowly and let the bed, curved at an angle, support his weight. I swore to escape the fighting after this. I swore to fight anyone who would stand in my way. But what can I truly do to stop an army of believers from tearing me down, one Sangheili? Ful closed shut his eyes as he breathed out his fatigue from all the walking. I am in no shape to move about much let alone fight either. But I know I must. I wonder if my body will break if I were to push it. Ful gently placed the communicator to his side and rested his mind. As time trekked on, the once light headedness disappeared, and instead came the heavy sensation of being pulled. He was being pulled into an ocean of darkness. Resistance hit his back like the cut of papers flying past all around him. He fell, and he fell, until he finally reached the muscle shattering stop to the bottom. Ful opened his eyes wide at the pain, but he knew this was not real, for there was no place of such darkness in the universe aside from the mysteries of the black holes. But he knew through careful thinking, that this was no black hole, else he would not be alive to ponder such. He slowly sat up and felt the pain be gone in his abdomen. The scar was no more. If only that could be reality, he wished as he rubbed his fingers over the injury point. His senses fired up as his nose flared with the familiar aroma. He heard the walls of darkness split apart in front of him and there was his past home. So, I am here again.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, and from there came the loud footsteps, echoing into the void. The young Ful ran towards his adult self with a bowl full of his favorite dish. He held it out to his adult self with hopeful eyes. "Go ahead, try it, it is delicious."

Ful stood up to meet his mother's eyes in the distance. She held out a hand, open with pride, and warmth. By her side, in the darkness a fair distance away were his father and sister. The two gave an expected gaze, an expectation for him to come to their side, an expectation to be their well bred warrior and believer, an expectation that weighed far too heavily on his now fatigued mind. He began to turn only to be halted by a strong grip. The young Ful rested the bowl by the adult version's side and looked up in determination to not let go. Ful shook the young one, but he wouldn't budge. "If you turn now, you will be running away forever!"

"No," Ful pushed the young one off him. "I am choosing to shed my past and present. I refuse to be associated to anything like that anymore."

As the young Ful fell with a hard bump to the ground, the mother rushed down to his side and glared up. "Where is that kindness I once saw in my Ful?"

"Your Ful was dead the moment he killed that human soldier the first time."

"And you were born anew to become a beacon of hope for our rightful place in the universe, and yet you want to run away from that to?" the father asked in a stern tone as he shook his head in disappointment. Ful before would have simply bowed his head at the words, but now he glared in their direction, clenched his fists and revealed a most distasteful expression. "As a youngling, I was an ignorant fool, desperate to survive, and now older, I am wiser. What you do, and what I did was wrong. Those innocent civilians we killed of their population, how does that make us better than the human soldiers who raided my village?"

"We fight for a greater purpose!" Shexa interjected as she pumped her fist in glory. Ful gently gazed over to his sister and prompted to respectfully disagree. "No, it makes us the same. Murder of a civilian population, one which does not take any direct part in the war only ends up being casualties due to the actions of our militaries. Our beliefs are just a convenient excuse to shift the guilt. It is certainly a good motivator for the soldiers, but a lie nonetheless."

"Heretic," the father mumbled as he looked to his daughter and back to his son. "I do not remember ever raising such a coward. Why could you not be more like your sister?!"

"Because I choose not to," Ful answered with brimming confidence. "My sister is the individual you created, but I am the person I chose to be of my own free will."

Ful without any second thoughts took a brisk turn and walked towards the endless void, he left the figures of his present and past into the now fading scenery. To him, he wore one of the proudest smiles he ever had in his life thus far. He felt as light as a feather for all the weight quietly floated away. As he walked, the pendulum swings of his arms became wider and more energetic. The strides he took became more vibrant and instead of looking into an endless void, he stared up to the small sliver of light. He looked up to hope and reached out to feel the weight of reality pull him down to his bed. Ful's eyes shot wide open at the ringing in his ears. Soldiers ran outside in a hurry as the base wide alarm was triggered. He slowly stood up and reached for the communicator that was vibrating by his desk.

"Sir, the enemy is attacking."

"What? How would they know we are here?"

"Currently unknown sir," the soldier answered in a hurry. "Please, we need directions out here sir. What should we do to defend the base, what is our strategy?"

"Get the Banshees in the air," Ful stated as his first order. "The foot soldiers are to form a perimeter around the base, ensure nothing gets through."

"What about the injured?"

"That's the perimeter's job," Ful answered as he put on his helmet. "Protect them."

"Yes sir!"

Ful stepped out to see the machines take off into the sky and the soldiers all shout in enthusiasm for their confidence in their abilities. The shuffling feet, thunderous skies with the blasting noises of the Banshees and the audio of the alarm made for an unpleasant tune. It was a tune he had heard so many times before. It was the tune of war.

High above the clouds, Muffins' Pelican flew with little to no turbulence and stable just as he liked it. Grif took out the small wrapped gift he held onto this whole time and subtly shoved it towards Sister. "What's this?"

"Just open it and see," he answered as she undid the wrapping like a five year old, ecstatic to receive a gift from Santa on Christmas. Her eyes widened at the small holographic project that could connect to her computer. Her face turned into the most joyous smile that for Grif unfortunately hid beneath the visor. She began to throw her arms around Grif when stopped by him. "Okay, you got your gift, happy birthday. Now don't go around hugging me or anything, it's feels weird."

"Aww, the big brother feels embarrassed, how precious," Tucker mused sarcastically only to see a middle finger of screw off pointed his way. Sister took the device out and studied it from every inch. "Oh, I can use this to display my special collection of hot guys and make it seem real as I masturbate. Thanks for the present big bro!"

Grif looked down at the floor, sighed in deep contemplation and closed shut his eyes in self-disappointment. What else could I expect from her aside from making this weird?

"We're almost at the drop off point my sexies," said Muffins. Simmons looked at each and every member. "You all remember your roles, correct?"

"Yeah," Tucker answered as he cracked his knuckles. "We got this."

Simmons tapped Grif on the arm with a nod in the direction of the rest. "I will let you take the steering wheel from here."

"Um, okay," Grif rubbed his two hands together, doing his best to suppress stage fright as he was suddenly met with the gazes of many. "Go break a leg everyone…yay….yeah."

"This is our leader?" inquired Mike as Tucker agreed. "I'm worried already."

"I just want to know, do we get pudding for doing good leader man Grif?" Caboose inquired with an intense stare. Grif stared up from Caboose to his own mentor. Simmons shook his shoulder in his defense. "Don't look at me, you are the pudding guy. You carry loads with you, don't you?"

"Seriously, is that all I'm now, a pudding guy?"

"Well in that fat suit of yours," Simmons pointed out. "Anyone can see you carrying at least a dozen."

"And you are too nerdy," Grif answered with mild irritation. "So we can't all be perfect Simmons, deal with it."

"Before we go guys," Iowa looked at the rest as they looked his way. "I gotta say, while it's been shit being here, and we lost people, a lot of people, I'm still glad that we are together."

"Where is that coming from?" inquired Doc, O'Malley suddenly held the steering wheel. "Yes, do tell us my dear Iowa. Tell me what it is so that I may crush it with my bare hands of awesomeness, mwhahahaha!"

"I dunno," Iowa answered with a most innocent stare. "It's just that with us being together, and fighting it through the tough times like we have been ever since I joined you guys, it reminds me of the others."

Caboose wrapped an arm around Iowa and cheered up in the air. "And here is to more fun times with everyone, yay!"

"Yeah, more fun times!" Iowa cheered in response as the others silently raised their hand. Iowa turned to see the bay doors slowly open. Muffins engaged the auto-pilot and walked out to the warriors. "Okay my sexies, here we are. Ready to go on a fun time adventure? I wish I could go to, I love skydiving."

"This isn't a vacation trip Muffins," reminded Tucker as he maintained some distance from the German pilot. Caboose agreed as he crossed his arms and flexed his face into a most serious one. "Yes, we are here on some super-duper serious business!"

"Not helping," Mike commented upon hearing the playful voice. Simmons agreed as he prompted for the occupants to stand. He let Grif take the lead who shook his limbs in preparation, but mostly out of nervousness. "Okay, everyone know the landing zone?"

"Yes sir," Simmons spoke as he took his spot behind Grif. The orange one looked back and held up his right hand. "Once I reach zero, we jump one by one!"

"You got it big bro!" Sister echoed as she was happy to see something distract her brother, and the minor peace he seemed to have found. It was slow progress in her eyes, but progress that was better than nothing. As Grif reached zero, he took in a deep breath to quell his urges to run to the back of the line, and took the first jump. He felt the immediate rush of air hit his suit and took a plank like body formation in which his arms were tucked against his sides, and his legs joined together to create a straight line from his head to toe. He cut through, but the moisture in the air hit his visor hard creating small water pellets. The others followed. The fragments kept a track of their quickly declining altitude.

Gamma quickly activated the jet boosts below the chest armor as did the others. Once they were falling vertically, but they began to level and turn diagonal. The aliens took notice of the raining humans and opened fire. With precise control, the BGC avoided direct fire with only a few depletions to their shields. They all took a hard landing and rolled to find cover. Grif looked at Simmons who waited patiently for his next order. Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have agreed to this. I just want to go home and lie in my fucking bed already while pigging out on some nachos. He made hand motions for Tucker who turned his attention to their leader. Tucker looked at the orders and immediately shook his head. "That's suicide and I'm not doing it!"

"Oh great," Grif moaned as he looked back to Simmons, who was already busy charging the enemy positions. I guess he doesn't have a problem with suicide missions then, great. Grif observed Simmons draw all the fire towards him, and in quick response, the BGC took out the assailants. O'Malley with his A-Game stepped up to the challenge wielding the best rocket launcher he could find in the hospital's armory. A maniacal laughter echoed with screams of terrors raised from the extremists as they flew into the air from the explosions, and landed to the hard embrace of the dirt ground. "Move now you fools!"

Everyone rushed into the base, having broken the enemy formation on the defensive perimeter and eyed the command base. Mike pointed in its general direction. "There, we can get a better grasp of the situation from there. They will probably have some of their own there as well that we can interrogate."

"You all heard the man," Tucker ran ahead with the rest following in a hurry. Grif huffed heavily, almost like a dying cat. "Slow down guys…I- I need five here."

"Oh come on fatty," Tucker looked back in annoyance. Simmons agreed. "You need to lose all that fat the pudding put on you. See, I have been saying this whole time, pudding is bad for your physique if you don't plan on working out!"

"You take that back you pudding hating heretic!" Grif shouted in response stunning the maroon one. Sister helped her brother along. "That's enough out of you mister, now get your ass in motion otherwise I'm taking all that pudding and giving it to Caboose, and you know how long it will be before it's all gone right?"

"I shall feast to my heart's content!" Caboose shouted as he looked at Iowa. "And I will share lots with you to Iowa!"

"Yay, pudding!" Iowa exclaimed as he and Caboose jumped out of the way of oncoming cannon fire from the base mounted guns on the main tower. Tucker looked to his right, enemies were gathering, he looked to his left, and enemies were gathering. All around, it was as if a pack of hungry wolves gathered around their prey. "Sigs, Church, any ideas?"

"If I may, I have a suggestion," Delta spoke as he appeared by Tucker's side. Without any words exchanged, Church and the other fragments knew. The blue powdery one appeared and cut Delta off from speaking any further. "Just do it."

"What is he doing?" asked Simmons a little worried as they began to see some changes already in Caboose's demeanor. His once upright posture began to hunch over, his arms closed in on themselves against his chest and a moan of struggle escaped him weak form. He was almost turned into a ball, almost as if he was fighting against whatever Delta was attempting. In Caboose's mind, Delta begged for the blue one to let go and relax. Finally, that once sweet and innocent voice turned deep, and low-pitched. "Owah, my name is Michael J. Caboose, and I'm the wrecker of aliens, stealer of pudding and the taker of candies from little babies!"

Caboose in all his fury ran in the direction to his front and kicked one alien back. The momentum and force behind the kicked pushed several back until it cleared open a path. Tucker looked at the result in shock as his mouth dropped open. "You know, it would be nice if he was able to do that at will."

"Maybe if you stomped a few kittens in front of him, he may be able to do that then," Iowa theorized only to feel a little put off by the imagery. "But then again, I don't like stomping kittens."

"I bet this version of Caboose would though," said Sister as she continued to shoot those at a distance and keep them at bay. Grif led the group through the newly opened path and ordered for fire to shift from the front to this sides and back. From the base's main tower, Ful observed the closing enemy. He walked over to the weapons storage, where his own weapons were kept and took his axe in one hand, and attached the chain through a clip to his belt as the weapon then dangled to the side. He took a few plasma grenades and a Needler, an option he opted for with agility in mind. To his loyal soldiers, he spoke and gave what he imagined to be his final strategic order. "Tell all the soldiers that eighty percent of them are to retreat to nearby friendly bases. For the remaining twenty percent, that includes those already in engagement, they are to stay and support me. Regardless of the outcome of this fight, those left alive will retreat."

The soldiers looked at one another in concern and an ultimate feeling arose in their beating hearts. "Yes sir."

Ful led a small squad of soldiers out of the building and met the stares of his enemies in the distance as they met his. Simmons threw his rifle to the side and took a hold of the shotgun. "There you are you bastard."

Grif looked behind him at the energy exuded by his comrades. He looked back to find the enemy beginning their charge. Just as they revved up for their own charge, they heard the skies split apart and from the clouds descended several Banshees. Simmons reached for his radio. "Muffins, we need some air backup here."

In the air, Muffins flew up and down with extreme shifts in the gravity going back and forth with his momentum. "A little busy here my dear Simmons!"

Behind his Pelican, were three Banshees, all engaged in a dog fight. As Muffins did his best to shake them off his tail, the enemy would just come back stronger, smarter and able to track him better. The enemy was quickly able to learn and adapt. Simmons cursed their luck as he ordered for all to scatter. As the Banshees shot at the ground, masses of rock flew into the air, along with it was the charging enemy that still persisted in their aggressive mission. Simmons blew a few meters away from his original spot as the blast wave knocked him back. He stood up and ordered for a temporary retreat, but Grif took note of the missing object on Simmons` back. As the enemy charged closer, they stopped in their track when the Banshees began another round of air drops, only this time closer to them. He looked all around amidst the destroyed buildings, the dead bodies and the scorched land until he finally found it.

In the smoke filled blue skies, shots fired above the orange soldier's head. He ran only eyeing one object on the ground as his goal. He jumped over dead bodies with his eyes shot wide open and heart palpitating. This is fucking crazy! He almost fell from the tremors of a nearby land explosion. Ariel bombardment took place all around him.

"Grif, come back!" shouted his maroon friend. "You are going to get yourself killed!"

"I'm not leaving it behind!" Grif yelled in response as he nearly choked from the shock of a falling plane nearly missing him. He was blown forward by the ground impact. His shield held up strong. I guess the army does create decent things once in a while. He stood up to notice the many occupied in an ongoing battle. UNSC soldiers fired, punched and struggled against the extremist Sangheili who still held on to old beliefs that first encouraged the war between them and the humans. Grif narrowly avoided a stray shot from his right. He heard the incoming barrage. Much to his displeasure, he jumped down into a pile of dead bodies that acted as his shield. Okay, almost there Grif, you can do this. You can make him proud.

He pushed a body off of his back and looked around. "Gamma, I need you here."

"How can I help you Grif?" asked the A.I. fragment in a very monotone voice. Grif looked to his miniature light blue human shaped companion. "I need to get to that weapon over there, tell me when I'm good to make a run for it."

"Understood," Gamma looked around absorbing the information and asked. "May I ask why it is you are risking your life so badly for one weapon?"

"It's precious, that's why."

"I do not understand how a device used for killing can be considered precious."

"It's a human thing," argued Grif keeping a low head. "Do I have a clear route yet?"

"Yes, but only for five seconds at best. Go now."

Grif bolted for his goal in sight. He jumped for the gun so close to his reach. Midair however he felt a force opposing his goals. A tight grip rested on his leg as it swung him down to the ground hard!

He looked up to find a familiar Sangheili with his ever so imposing stare. Grif shuffled backwards as the large figure slowly stomped towards him. With heavy breaths of fear and panic, Grif tried reaching for his sword. Visions of Donut's incident once again haunted him. Will I end up like him? Grif finally managed to grip the sword. No, I will survive!

"Grif!" shouted an aqua blue armored soldier. He took out his rifle and opened fire. "Get out of there!"

The orange soldier activated his sword and moved his sword in a piercing motion. Before he could make contact however, he was stopped midway by the enemy who started crushing his arm. Grif lost his grip on the sword and the Sangheili kneed him in the gut. The orange soldier gritted his teeth and cursed his foolish bravery. He crawled to the shotgun and felt his mission to be a partial success. At least I'm not a complete failure. I will protect this no matter the cost. Yet that cost may seem closer than he had originally thought. The Sangheili pushed one foot onto Grif's back. There was an audible crack of his muscles with a loud painful scream.

"We have to get him out of there!" said Sister as she nearly abandoned her weapon and ran for Grif only to be stopped short by Simmons. "Use your head, what you are doing is suicide!"

"Yeah, there is another way of getting him back," said Church as he and the other fragments displayed a holographic visual of his plan. Sister pointed to the enemy who raised his hammer weapon that once hanged by his belt. Simmons nearly gasped from the shock. The final blow was about to be delivered with extreme prejudice. The Sangheili stared at his prey and swung the hammer down while scoffing words of insult. "Filthy human!"

"Big bro!" Sister ran out, only for Simmons to barely graze her in his failed attempts to stop her. He looked to his side and could see the disappointed glance of Sarge who stood by his side with arms crossed, and head shaking as he stared down to the ground. I can't let things repeat as they have been, I can't let others die. Simmons ran out behind her as another raid from the air began to come down. Ful looked back at the running humans and retrieved his Needler. However, before he could take aim, the bombs fell and she went flying like a rag doll forcibly ejected from a cannon. Everyone of the BGC stared in horror as they saw her motionless body hit the ground like a steel ball. Her body remained frozen, unable to relax the muscles. Simmons stared at Doc who did not even need to retrieve his medical scanner device to know the outcome. "Its armor lock, it's the only thing keeping her alive right now, so don't play with it."

Caboose charged right in and knocked Ful away to the ground. Caboose jumped atop him and just before he could take a seat on Ful's face. Before he could land a blow to Ful's face, several of the aliens ganged up on the blue soldier and kicked him out of the circle of abuse. Grif stood up and reached for his sword. With a swift motion, he stabbed the object through Ful's chest, who could feel one of his hearts gone. He looked down in shock. As the sword deactivated upon his touch, he kept a tight grip on the open, but cauterized wound. Simmons quickly went in and picked up the shotgun. Thanks Grif, he thought at the sentiment of how important the weapon was to him as well. Without a second thought, with no fear and with no reservations, he opened fire. Mike rushed up to the maroon one as he left Tucker's side who was busy slicing and dicing the enemy. "Hey, we need to capture him alive!"

"Does it look like the time for that?!" asked Simmons who pointed to the murderous intent behind Ful's eyes as well as his soldiers'. Iowa jumped into the fray to defend his best friend. He shot many to keep at bay and slowly bent down to help the enraged Caboose up. The blue soldier let out a loud roar and sent shivers down the enemy's spine. Caboose started running with heavy footsteps as he left cracks behind. With the aid of his biceps, he rammed many down, one after another and stomped on the heads of others. Tucker fought to keep those behind them from reaching the others any closer. "Stab, take that bitch!"

As Ful reached down for his melee weapon and muffled some inaudible words, he slowly hobbled across to Grif and rested one knee on the orange one's chest. Grif felt his eyes immediately open wide at the squeezing sensation against his lungs. He reached for the alien knee and smashed his hands against it in desperation. As his struggling coughs and hopeless breathing increased, he felt his mind grow numb and his world darken. Iowa jumped in to push the hulking mass off his friend, but he was pushed away easily. Iowa let out a large squeal as he looked down in horror. Before the darkness could take him whole, Ful was pushed forward by the impact to his shields. He pushed downward on Grif's helmet as he stood up. Behind him stood Simmons, who had the barrel raised up to Ful's face level. "You should not have done that human."

"Then you shouldn't have messed with my family," Simmons announced before he proceeded to blast his adversary with a great many shots. Three shots in, the shield was depleted. Fifth shot in, it pierced nearly all the way through his body from his open wound, and the seventh shot in, Ful felt the pain finally affect his bulky form as his knees struggled to support his weight. He fell to the ground with a loud thud, and alerted his comrades all around. Simmons reloaded the shotgun and slowly approached the enemy with every precaution in mind. Mike rushed up to the desperate body and bent down by his side. "Tell us all that you know about where your bases are!"

Ful suddenly reached for his Needler with all his might and pointed it at the ODST. Before he could shoot however, the weapon fell down to Ful's side as he now lied motionless, pulse stopped. Simmons had pumped his mouth full of led, quite literally as there was now a gaping hole from the back of Ful's mouth to the ground. For the alien, he escaped his restraints in a sense, albeit his most disliked and feared method. The other aliens looked at the body of their dead and dear leader. Many shouted cries of rage, and many fell at the hands of Caboose, Tucker and Grif thanks to their alien swords and O'Malley with his rocket launcher. It was not long before the enemy finally retreated. Tucker looked at them all with his arms raised in the air and his voice most cocky. "Yeah, you assholes better run!"

Grif held up two middle fingers in another direction. "And don't show yourselves to me ever again, you hear me you jackasses?!"

Grif ran over to his sister and checked her condition. He promptly stopped himself from moving her all by himself upon Doc's suggestion. The purple medic moved others to quickly bring a stretcher from one of the hospital buildings to relocate her.

"Oh no," Caboose mumbled as the rest looked at the now clearly shaken blue soldier. Caboose ran towards Iowa to see the sharp jagged stray metal piece from an already destroyed building pierce him all the way through. Iowa breathed heavily and looked all around in a panic, as if trying to move but was held down by his best friend. Caboose gazed around until he eyed the purple one. "Doc, please, you have to help him!"

The medic checked the wound and pointed towards the buildings. "Help me carry him into the hospital ward."

Inside one of the many rooms, Doc studied the equipment. It was clearly different from anything he had ever seen. "So I have some bad news."

Cabooses ears perked up at the voice, but quickly fell down again. Doc pointed to the various equipments around the room and explained. "I have no idea on how to operate these things. They are of alien in nature."

"Whoa, what will happen to Iowa?" asked Tucker, now with growing concern evident in his voice. Doc looked at the patient's condition and shook his head in uncertainty. "I honestly don't know. I patched his wound up the best I could, but now it all depends on how fast Muffins can get here, and how long Iowa is able to hold on. Speaking of Muffins, I need to go make an evacuation call."

Caboose took gentle strides by Iowa's side and sat down on the empty seat. He looked down longingly as he felt his feet tap the floor. The others looked at the desperation in his mind once his body began to rock back and forth in worry and impatience. Tucker stood by the blue one's side and gently patted his shoulder. "Caboose, sitting here like this won't solve the problem. We just have to hope that Muffins comes by fast enough."

Simmons walked out of the room and into the one where Sister lay now limp. Her armor lock was undone thanks to Church, but her body still suffered from damages. Her consciousness abandoned her and her brother sat with worry looming over his shoulders. He held his hands together, in a praying gesture, as if to make whatever effort he could to beg for her safety. Simmons slowly approached the orange one by his right side and took a seat into a free chair. "Grif, there is nothing else that can be done for her right now."

"I know," he answered slowly shaking his head. "It's just that, I didn't really think that this could happen to me. Fuck me, why did she even run out, why did no one try to stop her?!"

"I tried," Simmons explained as he looked to his right. The red leader was not there. "But she was already far too out into the scuffle. It was too late as the explosions came pretty fast."

"Dammit," Grif almost bumped his fist against the bed, but restrained himself at the last moment. "Aside from mom, she is the last blood related family I have. What am I going to tell mom?"

Simmons remained quiet, slowly averting his gaze towards the floor. Grif rested his visor in his hands as he still felt the denial of the situation. "How the hell am I supposed to cope with this?!"

"Grif," Simmons spoke in a stern and demanding voice. He had the orange one's attention, and with it came the pressure to follow up. "She is still alive, remember that. Once she is off planet, we can have her looked at and I'm sure she will be back to her perky self again. Who knows, she may even go around boasting about how much of a big baby her brother is to be sitting here and crying himself silly."

Grif smirked underneath the helmet and nodded in understanding. He gently smothered Sister's visor with his fingers as he slowly stood up. Sleep well. And they were finally on their way. The two entered the room occupied by Iowa and saw Caboose still sitting by his friend's side. Tucker gave a small shake of his head. No good huh, wondered Simmons as he looked around the room. "Is Mike gone to report in to the commanders?"

"Yeah," Tucker walked to their side as he dragged a chair over and planted his bottom into it. "That would be my best guess, what else can we do here?"

Up in the space station, the commander sat with a most dissatisfied stare at the screen. Mike could feel the anger seep through the screen just from staring into the man's eyes. In a sudden fit of anger, a need for relief, he stood up and shoved his desk lamp towards the wall. As the light bulb inside blew out, he huffed and puffed deeply. Mike hesitated to say anymore as their failures already amounted to more than his threshold could clearly handle. The commander turned back to the communicator, where his face was red from the release and sweat glistened on his forehead from the worry. "What else do you have to report?"

"Nothing more, sir."

"I knew I shouldn't have left it up to those amateurs," the commander mumbled which caused Mike to shift a little in his spot, a gesture to hold back his words. The commander however, ignorant to his own words continued. "I should have sent in more backup to help the useless lot out. There goes my fucking promotion."

"Sir," Mike finally had it. He held the communicator tightly, with it shaking ever so slightly. "Is this really the time to worry about your promotion over the mission and the lives of your soldiers?"

"Lives of my soldiers?" the commander nearly laughed. "In case you didn't realize, you are all expendable. I can get dozen more guys like you, but my promotion only comes once in a while."

That was it, the last blow. Mike's eyes immediately shot up in a fit of rage. He gritted his teeth, silently warning the commander to stand down, but the man would not heed the advice. "You ungrateful, incompetent, shitty commander, I won't listen to you anymore. As of this moment, the reds, the blues and I are going to be making efforts to leave this planet, you no longer hold any control over us!"

"Watch your tone you lowly soldier!" the commander retorted as if thinking of himself to be a superior being, but in reality, superior only in status. "I will court martial you!"

"Go right ahead," Mike snapped back as he glared straight at his previous superior. "See if I give a damn."

"I will court martial all of y-."

Mike threw the communicator away in a release of pent up frustration. He let out a deep breath and whispered. "You talk too much."

As Mike headed back, he nodded towards Doc who just returned as well. Grif looked at the proud stride Mike took and asked. "You were off getting new orders for us to be slaves for?"

"No," Mike replied surprising all in the room. "I was busy telling the commander to fuck off."

"You know what, I can get used to you," Grif answered with a small grin. Mike walked to the center of the attention as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Here is the best part, I told him we are getting off this planet. You guys should have seen his reaction, priceless. So, while this does technically make us traitors to the UNSC, or at least his division, what do we do now?"

Tucker wore a big smile as he stood up and gently patted Mike on the back. "Meh, being fugitives is nothing new, been there, done that. Anyways, Doc, what's the status on Muffins?"

"Well you guys got the good news, now I'm here to-"

Before Doc could finish, Grif held up his finger of absolute silence. "Don't you say it."

But his finger failed as his presence lacked the intimidation needed to silence others. Doc looked out the window with a long sigh. "I'm here to give the bad news. It will be at least until tomorrow before Muffins can come back to us safely. Right now he is engaged in battle with the enemy ships, but even if he is able to get away before tomorrow, he can't risk coming right back and bringing the enemy to us again."

"You told him about Iowa right?" Caboose asked in worry as he stood up and jogged over to Doc's side. The medic nodded in silence. Caboose took the purple medic by his arms and shook him violently. "Then why?!"

"Caboose, calm down," Tucker separated the two as he stood in the way like a wall. "It can't be helped, all we can do now is make him and Sister feel comfortable until tomorrow."

Caboose dejected, sat back down with his face turned away from the rest. He leaned forwards on the bed and sniffled ever so slightly. His mind looped in on itself over and over again only thinking about one thing. It's not fair. You are such a nice best friend Iowa. It's not fair that this happened. Caboose took in a deep breath and let out a reasonably loud, yet relaxing melody as a flow of air escaped his mouth to create sound. His lips stretched out close together and whistled in an effort to keep spirits up. Doc reached forward towards the blue soldier. "Caboose, he needs rest and silence right now."

"This is Iowa's favorite tune," Caboose retorted as he gently pushed Doc's hand off. "I'm going to sing it for him so he gets better faster."

Doc moved to protest once more, but was quickly stopped by Tucker with a firm grip to the shoulder. "Let him Doc, he knows Iowa better than any of us. If he thinks that whistling will get him up faster, then I say go for it, also, bow-chika-bow-wow!"

"And there goes the moment," Simmons turned and walked out of the room with Grif following. The others quickly left, left the blue soldier to get lost in his own whistling as he kept a close eye on Iowa's calm face. The sun was setting over the horizon, and the night was just beginning. Now arrived the true test for Iowa in his struggle to live.

A/N: How'd you all enjoy that?

The story finally catches up to the prologue. Ful is dead, how did you guys feel about that final confrontation?

But the story is not over just yet, there are still a couple more chapters to go to help wrap things up and leave some things open-ended perhaps.

Constructive feedback is always welcomed!

Thank you for sparing your time to read my story. I appreciate the readership and support!

~ Monty