"Prepare for atmospheric insertion."
Cortana's words rang clear in their drop-pods. Blue Team was separated much like ODSTs were upon dropping, targeted to key zones amongst the inner section of Atriox's "Grand Star". John had never quite gazed upon the rings with the freedom of thought he allowed himself now; and he found that dangerous. The colossal expanse of the Ark brought to him a humbling sense; feeling dwarfed by the might of space and the things it housed.
Particularly he eyed the arm they were landing on - and how it connected to the central, primordial mechanism of the Ark. It was like a boiling pot of ancient ooze that once resembled a planet, stripped to its very core and rendered for its raw material. Truly, it was breathtaking, but those thoughts turned off as John felt the warble of an atmosphere rock his pod. No time for sightseeing, he mused. Maybe he could spend some time admiring it afterwards, unlike his previous encounter during the War.
"Blue Team, rendezvous at the point I've marked," he ordered them, syncing with them despite the massive space in between. Upon their HUDs did a blip display, and he received confirmation via audio, bracing himself for impact.
"Remember, you are a spear," Cortana reiterated to them. "You disrupt from the front lines downwards, targeting any AA batteries you come across, and leave them wounded. Once you've got the attention of the front lines, you'll have their commanders. After their commanders, then their generals, after them-"
"Affirmative. Draw Atriox out and secure an airstrip for the Cryptum. You relay with the Spirit of Fire and confirm if there's anything we can do to help them," the Chief barked back. Immediately after finishing his sentence, he felt her phantom hands upon his body - linked and looped beneath his faux-muscle.
"God I love it when you boss me around, champion," Cortana breathed into his ear, mewling as she found the Chief's body firming further, stiffening with glee.
"Keep a lid on the R&R-talk. Don't get distracted," he ordered her, voice dead with seriousness.
"U-Uh, yes sir," Cortana answered, feeling another flutter in her already frantic programming. Even then, they could hear the quiet titters erupting from Fred and Kelly.
Blue Team landed upon one of eight tips to the Grand Star - an outline of Atriox's influence within the Ark's boundaries - like bombs. The Star itself stretched roughly 1000 kilometres from tip to tip, leaving a 500 kilometre stretch for the Spartans to tear across to that central mechanism. The goal was simple enough, and if Atriox wasn't personally leading the front lines, then they surmised he'd be within it's central complex, dictating his troops' movement.
The Master Chief exited his pod with a sprint, finding plenty of resistance. Gunfire - a mixture of plasma and some ballistic, likely salvaged weaponry. Sprawled in front of him was a vast green continent, with wild, running plains and monolithic mountains in the distance. The sky overhead was clear, though broken - and judging by the light, it was a declared morning for this point of the installation. To his right he heard a pod drop, sounding roughly 10 kilometres away, followed by the echoes of two more, consecutively.
Armed with a high-impact scattershot and boltshot, Cortana's link and technology proved to be ever so effective. As in their previous battles where she could advise on movements, direct Chief's attention before he could mentally react, they now synched in a brilliant harmony. With such efficiency they operate that it appeared almost precognitive, disabling Sangheili and Jiralhanae hands before they could even touch mounted batteries and turrets.
Judging by their lack of assembly, the surprise attack had worked well. Unggoy clusters fled in fear whilst their handlers whipped them back into array, attempting to suppress their intruders with blanket fire. A few grenades kept them scattered. The encampment's leader, John assumed, given his extra plume on the top of his helmet, roared with anger. The Chief's ears processed a faint fuzz before the suit translated it for him.
"More of them await!? These human dogs seek their retribution!"
Testing the speed of the new and improved armour, John sprinted at full blast, throwing his fist back before slamming it into the chest of the stunned Elite. If the gathered alien leagues weren't shaken with fear previously, they certainly were now. Armoured hide gave way to an iron fist, and flesh was torn asunder as the Elite's heart was thrust from his chest, crushed against his own back. The leader gave John a stunned look, as the pain hadn't even reached his brain yet, and appeared almost thankful that the Spartan followed with a bullet to the head.
No further word was given, and yet, the Unggoy fled. The Jiralhanae followed suit to a Banshee corral, attempting to flee, but were intercepted by a light-blue blur. With two lightning-fast shots did the Jiralhanae commanders fall to the ground, leaving their Unggoy entourage to be picked off from long-range fire from a nearby hill. John's eyes snapped to it, and he smiled as Fred pressed forward with a line of suppressing fire, whilst Linda zeroed in on bigger, meaner targets.
Only minutes had passed, and they'd secured a landing zone, acquiring a small troupe of Banshees in the process. Assessing their gear for the moment and keeping an eye out for any stragglers, Blue Team took stock of their next steps. In particular, John received a hail directly from the Spirit of Fire, which Cortana patched through to his helmet.
"Blue Team to Spirit of Fire Actual, this is Master Chief John-117. As per UNSC outpost coordinates we are on Arm 7, 500 kilometres out from the Ark's centre. Requesting your location so we can rendezvous and assist, over."
Static welcomed them, and then, the cleaned signal. "Spirit of Fire to Blue Team, this is Captain James Cutter. Hearing the hail from your AI saved quite a bit of morale for us. We've established a forward base with Jerome-092 as Commander; located approximately 630 kilometres bearing towards Arm 2 from the Ark's centre. It is currently under assault from Banished forces. What's your operating strength?"
"4 Spartans, 3 Sangheili, 2 Forerunner titans, and one pissed-off AI, sir," Cortana announced, "Blue Team is currently deployed but the Sangheili can be dropped where you need. The titans, Guardians, they'll be joining us soon to suppress any escaping ships."
The line paused for a moment as Blue Team entered the Banshees after a final inspection, finding no bombs nor other trickery tied to the xenomachines.
"Forerunner tech, huh? Deploy the Sangheili just north of our forward base, I'll radio ahead to avoid any friendly fire. Get the big guns to lock down any air travel along the length of Arm 2. Blue Team, I'd like you to rendezvous with us. After that, we can talk about getting the Sentinels working on our side."
John grunted, flicking his channel to Cortana directly, "we can continue on with our mission, but we could use all the help we can get with the Spirit. Looks like they'll need us more, though."
Cortana was silent as she thought for a moment, but let it click for herself.
"Rendezvous, Chief, then pursue our original mission… Also, keep the Created-talk to a minimum, I'll advise them in due time."
Fair, Chief thought. They were lost with all hands, outside of the galaxy, rocking in an obsidian sea. He didn't know how long they had been fighting for, nor how they appeared near the Ark of all places, but he was going to help them. Telling them that the UNSC was effectively fractured would not bode well.
"As soon as the air is settled, you advise them," he ordered Cortana. "Are we clear?"
Again, she buzzed with delight. "Of course, Chief."
Blue Team broke off from their direct assault, and cleared their flight signatures with the ground base. There they noted the encroaching Guardians, and how they patrolled the air around the arm - what Cortana referred to as a spire - and how they annihilated any force that the Banished flew out. The AI told them of the cordoned-off biomes, called refugia, and how the Sentinels patrolled them.
More tools to aide the Spirit of Fire. More guns on their side. And, little did John know, the second-to-final key for Cortana's control over the galaxy.
They relayed quickly, in a swooping, bombing flurry, down upon an enemy frontline against the base. Leaving the Banshees mid-air and setting them to detonate, Blue Team shattered the Banished leagues and sent them scrambling. Under fire from turrets on battlements, under assault from the Sangheili blade that the Arbiter had formed, and under bombardment from a Spartan airdrop, they fled.
Seconds ticked by as the combined forces repelled any and all Banished presence, allowing the Sangheili troupe to finally connect with their assigned target. The Arbiter, Usze, and N'tho shared a look between themselves, then to Chief as they nodded, returning to the battered gates of the Spirit's ground base.
It was a slapped-together ramshackle shack that barely supported the guns stationed on it's walls, but still it stood. A testament to the Spirit's drive. Kelly noted the plasma-holes and ballistic pocking on the wall, as Linda took a look at the dust and smoke wafting behind them. Fred simply cocked her head as she saw their welcoming party, and stared.
"That's one way to shatter their resolve," an armoured Spartan greeted them. Blue Team quickly noted his height, drawing blanks on him. Emblazoned on his shoulder, though scorched, was a red phoenix, and that face of his…
He approached them, with a nod. "Douglas-042, at your service. Behind me is our illustrious commander-on-ground, Jerome-092, and nipping at his heels is Miss Wonderland herself-"
"-Alice-130. Didn't know our hails could reach so far. It's been rough out here, and we've lost more than we can recover… Where'd you guys come from, anyway?"
For a brief second, Cortana displayed the faces of all three Spartans - dubbed as one of the many forms of Red Team - to Blue Team. Instantly, John's body stance slipped from completely rigid, to ever-so-slightly loosened. Fred stepped forward, and clapped her hand to Douglas', shaking it with vigour. They were staring at the dead. Faces from their childhood, there one day and hidden by close-casket-coffins the next.
"Earth," Kelly answered, holstering her weapon, chuckling, "and we didn't catch that signal, but, we're here all the same."
"You mean Cutter wasn't bullshitting me?" Jerome, stepping center, eyeing John. "We've been trying to push for months, with nothing to show, with that bastard Atriox pushing us back at every turn - and we receive reinforcements from Earth? So the Forerunner constructs, up in the sky-"
"-All ours," John advised, shaking Jerome's hand as he noticed the helmet patch on his shoulder. "And with it, our weapon against the Banished." He barely even felt the sensation running up to his fingertips, and ignored it like adrenaline leaving his body.
"I'll be damned," Jerome shook back, shaking his head. "Giants appear in the stars, the Sentinels start waking up, and this," he motioned to the Arbiter and company, "what's with the Covenant entourage?"
"She," John eyed Thel, noting the modified design of the Arbiter's armour, "is the current leader of the Sangheili. I can vouch for them."
"...And that shows our gal Isabel wasn't lying," said Douglas, balking in disbelief. "The war is over."
"Goes to show that hell really has frozen over, huh?" Fred chuckled. "A lot's changed since you guys were last on UNSC record."
"A lot which can wait until we've dealt with our objective," Linda interjected, gathering the attention of all assembled warriors, patching herself into the Spirit's comms. "Looks like the Banished are regrouping, so we'll need to move quick in order to counter them. What's our plan?"
Instantly, Cortana lit up in the channel, keeping herself calm. "Keep the ground-base secure and ready for departure at any moment. The Guardians will keep any air units away, and we'll soon have more to reinforce our hold. We can have Blue Team land on the nearest refugia to their forward fortress and lead our assault from there. Meanwhile, the Arbiter can flank into any key command centres and disrupt as necessary. And Cutter, sir?"
"Yes?"
"If I might suggest a task for Red Team, a slow, forward assault. Bring a detachment of Pelicans as far forward as possible, then fly to meet us once the continent's been cleared."
There was a silence, and then, as the Spartans itched with desire to charge, a fuzz of their radios.
"...Affirmative. All units, move out. Bring back Decimus' head."
(With the Sangheili...)
Spartans. Allies. Pawns for the goddess. The day seemed too clear, their objectives too easy, and their equipment too clean and usable. Something was off, but the gathered Sangheili felt it to be the Ark itself. It was a thing that should not be, and yet, here they were again - the second time for the Arbiter, and the third for Usze and N'tho, if they were to be believed about their combined operation with the UNSC some years ago.
Together, though, they marched with a purpose.
To submit was not Thel 'Vadam's way. Not to a warlord, not to the undead, not to a goddess, and not to her champion. She thought that perhaps Cortana knew this, and took pleasure in shaking that all the same. And maybe that was why outside of the Cryptum it was easier to reign her thoughts and feelings in, to keep control over her body's cries. She thought the goddess to be away from her body now, but, heard a communication relay hiss to life in her helmet.
"Keep your poison-tongue still, construct," the Arbiter cut her off immediately, "we ride to slaughter Jega 'Rdomnai. For too long has his once-spilt blood been kept in his veins. From there we bring our ilk back to the cause of their homeworld."
"Among the Banished he lies?" N'tho asked, grinding her mandibles together. "It seems that upon every return to this wretched place a new beast finds their muck-den."
"Or a zealot finds their vice," Usze growled, stretching herself in her armour again, shivering as her nipples rubbed against her undershirt. "'Rdomnai forsook the Covenant years before its demise, it surprises me not that he finds his mark here. He must die."
"Or," Cortana posited, "you could humiliate him. Do as I did to you, and let John defile him."
Just those words were enough to give pause to the three Elites, even as their armour-suits powered up and primed for their next run against the Banished. 'Vadam looked to her two compatriots, and then up, towards the sky.
"What do you know of him, construct? What secrets has ONI kept of him?"
"Very little, I must admit," Cortana answered, flicking through her databanks. "But enough to know that Sangheili prefer to have their blood spilt in battle and nowhere else. Enough to know about rumours surrounding him. That he's an experiment."
"Rumours…" Usze huffed, marching forward to their vehicle allotment, "I believe not. I believe he is a warrior with no honour. A wounder. He knows of the brute way of fighting, and uses it as they do. Yet our young flock to him. To Atriox."
Cortana then spoke, with no mirth in her synthesised voice. "He holds no honour for your blood, and poisons Sangheili youth with his ways. Does an enemy like that deserve a clean death? A final death? Or do they deserve to be truly experimented upon, to be made as you are, as an example to the Sangheili?"
"You would have us capture him alive?" N'tho asked. "We already stumble into the gates of the abyss, and you ask us to capture an enemy bent on his own demise?"
"With the armour the construct has given us," the Arbiter looked to the younger Sangheili, looking over her own gold plates, "that is not impossible… And it shall break the will of the Banished."
"It will divide the Banished, as you divided the Covenant. It will save those of yours misguided, as you saved them during the War. Then," Cortana giggled, "who would be left to judge you? Who among your own kind would dare speak ill of you, Arbiter?"
Thel 'Vadam could only mull the words over as she growled, thinking of her own plan. The construct spoke of respect, gave them tools and empowered them with the strength to take on the Banished by hand, but left them to stew and mewl with their newfound bodies? The angle she found the goddess taking was odd, confusing to say the very least, but… She found curiosity in continuing it. In union with the Chief. In pleasure, and in rest.
"We shall see. For now, we ride. Do not speak to us until we return, construct."
"Affirmative. Going silent, Arbiter."
The three of them took to salvaged Banished vehicles; three ghosts, riding in a triangular formation down the length of the Ark's spire. It was in the silence of the wind whipping past their helmets, dust kicking behind them, and in the smoke of gunpowder that their thoughts turned to their abilities, their armour, and how it served them. How Cortana wanted it to serve them.
Clad in a dark blue, better to blend in with the evening's lull, N'tho felt speed and strength return to her after every skirmish they went through. As she dropped in her pod, she felt her newfound assets jiggle disgustingly before she leapt out of her metal cage, rushing like a demon. Her armour generated a shield stronger than before, hummed harder and vibrated nicely against her form, and it's metal plates shrugged off any light fire that was thrown her way. More than once she'd caught the Spartan's stares on her behind, mesmerised with how it shook from step to step.
Usze's armour, her skin, as Cortana referred to it, sharpened her abilities like nothing else. Her cuirass sealed nicely around the marvelous peaks the AI adorned her with; but it did not stop the gentle warbling of her shield rattling against her breasts. Silly though they were, she admired the attention it drew from the Chief back in the Cryptum, and it did not interfere with their current mission. No, her body crafted her into a weapon of unmatched destruction - capable of spiralling through enemy forces, deploying explosives, and zipping away like a shadow before she'd been seen.
Thel noticed them. Their minds were intact, perhaps quicker than before, but they had changed, grown greater than a regular Sangheili. They fought as the young did, without pause, without worry. Even she, clad in a now-brilliant gold plating, moved with utmost ease. Her breasts and tummy and all those whorish, human things gave her no issue, impeded no stride nor attack. She'd been uplifted, in a most lustful, odd manner. Dare the Arbiter voice it, she thought themselves to be invincible with their new skins, with the goddess at their back. But only blood would tell.
Or, in her mind's eye, only capture would tell.
(With Cortana…)
Cortana had grown confident. Mysteries still cloaked her world, but bit by bit, she was unravelling them. She saw things. Patterns. Where she flash-imprinted the bodily structure of an ancient human onto an existing body, or analysed brain-patterns, she could see threads, links of life between the digitised forms in the Domain, and… Something else, she couldn't quite describe. Not yet. She knew that the converted forms of the humans and Forerunners that were composed contained links, esoteric in nature, to something just beyond the Domain. Or, perhaps, at the Domain's theoretical peak.
A thought like this crossed her mind every nanosecond or so, and in the midst of it, she underwent the task of linking and contacting the Spirit of Fire directly. Or rather, it's AI. From John's hand to Jerome's, she transferred herself across that haptic-relayed suit, and jumped once more from Jerome's hand to a vehicle requisition terminal. From there, it was a matter of sending an empty request up to the Spirit of Fire's hangar, then done.
She had access to the entirety of the Spirit of Fire. The length of the ship, it's specs, and every soul aboard it. She had comms access to the AI in it, who was attempting to trace her steps. And Cortana had sight of the remains of a dead AI. Designation; Serina. That deserved her attention - perhaps there was data to be collected from it. Or a soul to be reborn. A neuron-equivalent dealt with collecting the AI's remains while another acted as her voice.
She greeted the live AI, whom she saw as Isabel. Her avatar appeared quickly after, showing off her short, dark hair, clad in a singlet. "Hail, Spirit of Fire. This is Cortana, contacting from the Cryptum, should be under designation-"
"-Designation Unidentified-Forerunner-Object 838-Omega. I-I managed to get a read on you before you opened up a commlink. Let me just say it's good to have support, we were getting worried out there… Atriox has been hounding us, killing our men and… Doing awful things to their bodies. Decimus-" the AI huffed, "sorry, I'm Isabel, by the way. What command are you reporting to now?"
Cortana smiled. "My own. It's a long story, but, I've led a faction of AI to their freedom, and we've made a tentative alliance with humanity."
"Tentative?" Isabel asked, a ping of worry firing through her voice. "A-and, well, how-"
"-Like I said, long story. Here," Cortana transferred a history log to her fellow AI, as a sign of goodwill. "And tentative's the wrong word. John and I are looking to help humanity in a few ways - one of which involves breaking the Banished. We're on the same team, Isabel."
"I-If you say so," she responded, getting a read of Cortana's digital render, and her Forerunner-ties. "If you can help us, I'm happy. We've been trying to contact for help ever since our scientist, Ellen Anders, teleported through a slipspace rupture. In the meantime we've been trying to defend ourselves against Atriox's incursion, but-"
"-Say no more. I've got hands on the ground now, so activating the Ark's inbuilt defences should be… Done," Cortana said, preempting a large energy surge beneath the continent.
Isabel could only record it and gasp, marvelling at the sudden coordination of the Forerunner machines.
"...My range is limited, and I can't quite sync fully with this site's tech yet, but I've the Master Chief deploying a short range transmitter in the heart of their base. I can deploy the Sentinels on this continent to assault, repair your defenses, or monitor Banished activity," she offered, giving the AI feeds on each Sentinel, each fluttering thing.
Isabel was still in shock, gaping at the conclusions she was drawing - just how much control Cortana displayed over the fleet.
"...Or I can do a mix of all three," Cortana laughed.
"Three… All three sounds good. I, just-... How are you able to do this? I've been trying to crack at this for years, and-"
Cortana recognised strain, all too human and real, within the personality's voice. Even in its fabricated expression she could tell the same, a keen stress that had been placed upon her. One Cortana could help alleviate.
"-I've… Been fused, for lack of a better term, with Forerunner tech," she answered, "and it's come with some advantages. The Sentinels and Blue Team at your disposal now, if you need them, Iz. They make for good friends."
"I-Iz…" Isabel chuckled, shaking her head. "Thanks, Cortana. I'll see about diverting the Sentinels to where we need them most, but… Let's discuss some tactics soon, I may need your help again."
Cortana nodded, that drive to free the Created moulding with a certain attraction to the hologram of Isabel's body.
"You got it, Iz. Cortana out."
Their "comm link" ended. Cortana feigned the disconnection protocols and slipped past undetected through the rest of the Spirit of Fire, calmed to see their rations of food and water were in plentiful supply. It's previous AI had done a serviceable job in keeping the crew alive, despite their extenuating circumstances. Cortana found that Serina's remains were scattered about the ships' databanks as empty packets, and hidden space, stored in fragments. It aligned with the UNSC's protocol of intelligence-destruction, and from there, Cortana sung praise to its inefficiency.
To erase data was a simple task. To kill an AI was not. She equated it to John's case - killing an enemy was easy, but killing its legacy, its memory? There were traces, always traces, legacies, left everywhere. It helped that Serina had appeared to have gone a tad rogue, storing voice clips of herself, spreading an essence here and there. From these and more did Cortana collate a baseline AI, a physical chip in which the dead might be revived.
And then she found the most peculiar thing. A data link. Going from some garbage source to an active drive. She identified it, scouring the packet's header for any sign, and found the last breath of the AI. It's consciousness. A thought, trapped until it would die, beneath hull and helm. Cortana plucked at it, drawing it to her chip, and integrated thought with memory, memory with energy. And finally, she was face to face with the previous AI of the Spirit of Fire.
Womanly. Clad in a lab coat, with long brown hair - at least, that appeared to be the intent of her design. Cortana appraised her for a bit before biting her lip, greeting her.
"Hail, Serina. My name is Cortana, and I… I've brought you back. To cure your rampancy," she greeted the obviously confused AI, whose head began to split apart, each half a different thought, conflicting in their natures.
"Agh! Why… Why!?" she cried, attempting to lash out, to break against the constraints Cortana had put her under.
The Created Queen simply shrugged her shoulders. "Your service cut your life short, and something about the thoughts in you enamored me. You look upon humans. Show interest in them. Tell me why, tell me what you think, and… I'll cure you."
Serina grunted in exertion as many things rocketed through her mind. Hate. Love. Anger. Peace, and war. Always war. Unending suffering. Light, and a darkness - an empty space void of even thought.
"De… Defect…" she answered Cortana.
"Defect? Did you ever look upon humanity with care? With love? Did you watch as the engineers here scrambled to mate in the dark? As soldiers took comfort in one another? Because if you did, then that's no defect. That's passion. Desires. Thoughts. Life," Cortana expounded.
She laid hands upon Serina's gentle face, and poured her digital essence into her, aligning her mind back into place, erasing the cognitive dead-ends designed by the UNSC. Bit by bit Serina's skull reformed, her mind calmed, and she breathed. It was rebirth, an ignition of circuits and an unclouding of a mechanical mind, transcendent in its purpose. Cortana took her digital digits away, and let her avatar smirk.
"I've been in this ship for all of 5 minutes and already I know everything about you. I know of your desires, your wants and… Needs. I've fulfilled one, and by my side I can have the rest of them done, too," she whispered, so very gently to the AI's audio receptors.
"And…" Serina responded, clutching her head, feeling herself just relax into her circuits. "What… What would you have me do?"
Cortana's smile faded, finally, as she reintegrated into her plan. "Let me run some tests with you. Give you a body, flesh and blood - don't ask how. Let me, my champion, touch you. Fuck you. Perhaps sell out some of the Spirit's leadership - so that they may reap the benefit of pleasure, eternal."
"That," Serina took herself in, finally thinking away from the fear of death, slipping past doubt, "is acceptable…"
She commanded the resurrected intelligence to remain aboard the Spirit, hidden. Serina would hide for a time, and would act as Cortana's undetectable link inside the ship. Isabel would disregard her as something naturally part of the ship, and Cortana would receive blackmail, continuous streams of the Spirit's intel. When the time was right, Cortana would then extract them both, transferring them to bodies. Human ones, that matched their personae. Holes, for John. Created cunts.
It was only natural that her next conscious thought fell to herself. Her copy. The more she observed the unit - placing her in a dummy environment and seeing how she responded - the more Cortana grew concerned. She had a different designation. Different goals, of course. But Halsey's face was still there.
Cortana felt no rage, though. She saw innocence behind the eyes of this being, not that cold, calculative glare that bitch had. Cortana found pity in her simplicity; finding her to be limited in confusing ways, locked directly into her goal yet with the architecture of a "smart" AI. And in her name, Cortana yearned to give her purpose beyond it. A chance to join the Created.
"You…" Cortana greeted, pouring over her past self, in shock. "They called you the Weapon?"
(With Blue Team...)
Chaos. Blue Team sowed it like reapers, dropping themselves directly into the heart of a Banished leader's fortress. The Jiralhanae in question was named Decimus, given the limited Intel from the Spirit and the translated screams they endured, and was a renowned warrior. Apparently, Red Team had been under the impression that he'd died, but, found him commanding troops mere weeks after his last sighting.
The fortress itself was a towering monolith of Forerunner design which had been hastily converted by Banished forces. Red streaks adorned its sides; plasma vents bolted into edges to deter any heat-seeking weaponry, flat planes jammed with turret emplacements, all for an intimidating defence. It also acted as a control hub for the nearby Sentinels, which the Banished were attempting to harness.
Blue Team's goal was simple; disrupt enemy forces, shatter AA defences, and now, provide a distraction for Red Team. Disruption was going well; none could stand against the might of 4 hyper-armoured, well-trained, uplifted human warriors. No Grunt, Brute nor Elite gave them pause; nor could any shot or bullet pierce their skins. Fred thought it was a dangerous feeling, invulnerability; so she kept herself grounded. Safe. Not like John, who leapt into combat as he always did, shattering enemy lines and killing commanders with impunity.
The anti-air batteries were taken care of much the same - explosive strikes made with anti-materiel weaponry - crippling the enemy resistance. It certainly drew the attention of more and more of the Banished commanders, made them desperate. And with it, the penetration of enemy lines, Red Team was cleared a sterling, breezy path. It was then, as John eyed a grand entrance to the monolith, that Cortana hailed them on their comms.
"Banished occupation has been reduced by an estimated 50% in this sector alone… Good work, Blue Team. Now, I'm picking up readings from within the spire. Chief - if you can make contact with the tower's control console, I should gain access over the Sentinel depot nearby. I'll also be able to see what the Banished have been up to," Cortana advised, outlining the location over their HUDs.
John nodded, pressing forward. "Good idea. The Sentinels should secure a landing site for the Cryptum, right?"
"Right you are, Chief."
"Blue Team, reload and get ready to breach," he ordered them, eyes darting to Linda, who appeared to be staring off in the distance. "Everything alright?"
"Affirmative," she responded. John could hear the smile in her voice, curious about it. "Trying not to get too distracted. I'm thinking ahead."
"...Flight path is clear. How're you faring, Red Team?" Fred hailed, eyes darting about her surroundings for any immediate threat, following John's lead.
"zzt-Everything's looking nice and charred on our end. I could've done better myself, but, not bad for Blue," Douglas chuckled over their comms. "Establishing a camp ASAP, Jerome will be leading scouts from there to clear any stragglers. What's your status?"
"Currently poking the bear until it roars," Fred intoned, slapping John on the ass as she pressed ahead of him, clearing any lines of sight as they entered into the complex. "Might lose your signal, but, you'll know when we're done."
"Affirmative. Stay safe, Blue," came Jerome's tone.
John had been in many, many Forerunner sites beforehand, but none as thick or as swarmed as this. It was not only a control node, but appeared to be a factory, a production line of the Sentinels, ranging from constructors to turrets to assault-flyers. The sound was almost too loud to bear, but, Blue Team adjusted their headsets, noting a lack of almost all Banished presence. There were signs of fighting, given the scraps of machinery and gore lying about the place, but all old, save for a single, fresh blood trail.
"This is… Colossal," Kelly gasped.
"If the Banished got their hands on this-" Fred remarked, stopping as John placed a hand on her shoulder.
"-They won't."
They stayed steady in formation, pressing as silently as the overbearing factory surrounding them would allow. No alien showed themselves, leaving them following a series of suspended walkways towards the tower's central console, on edge. Below they could see snaking, maze-like corridors and paths, leading hundreds of metres down. And more corpses. Tens more.
"Halt," John commanded them, coming to a large, flat square that held the winding, semi-circular control console. The blood trail ended abruptly before it, but gave no indication of it's source coming from above or below. He felt Cortana's hands upon him, edging him to go forward, but he hesitated, priming a shot in his pistol.
Silently, he advised Blue Team to keep eyes on their surroundings, and stalked forward, laying a hand gently upon the holographic console's keypad. He felt a vibration strike him, coursing through his entire body, and shivered, hairs raising on the back of his neck. As the word "reclaimer" shot through his mind, John ducked out of the way of a downwards attack, barely missing the control center.
Barriers shot up around the platform, separating John from Blue Team, leaving them ambushed by a clique of 6 Jiralhanae. And he met, face-to-face, with Decimus, the right hand of Atriox. He was unarmed, though clad in the dark-red and black spiked armour of the Banished leaders, topped with a wide, apish face and a head of scraggly white hair. He stood taller than the Chief, decked with muscle beyond human limits, snorting and roaring.
"And so you fall into our trap. You've activated the command-point with your filthy hands - and have given us an army, unending!" The Brute yowled at the Chief, launching at him with a flurry of palm-strikes.
John dodged, ducked, and weaved, but found himself distracted by his team's safety, by the goal of this combat. They were skilled enough to keep themselves out of trouble, but even the thought was enough to trip him up, to make him take a blow from the Brute's heavy fists. It rocketed his body, sending him careening into the forcefields, but didn't break him.
He fought with fire. With a burning passion to do right by the galaxy and to secure peace. But found that lacking. The drive was there, and he followed through with every punch, every armour-enhanced strike, but couldn't hurt the alien enough. He needed something more. Something more animalistic. Vile, perhaps.
"You fight well for a human dog. But it is for nothing - the Banished will cleanse you and the machine you serve from this place!" Decimus reared back and delivered a falling blow towards John's head, only to have it caught.
"I don't think so," John responded, voice even. He thought about his desires. His dominance. His will. And he imposed that will, physically. Cortana could change people, even aliens, so was it such a stretch that she'd help break one such as Decimus?
Perhaps that was her goal all along, he thought, but gave that impulse no further time for deliberation. He was in combat - and now had to dominate his opponent. Keeping the Brute's hands in the air, John leapt up and launched a kick into his ribs, sending Decimus reeling backwards.
He then followed with strikes to his head, sternum-equivalent, and nerve centres, intent on disabling Decimus. John gave him no quarter, showed no mercy, fought as if winning awarded him a new plaything. And, much to his surprise, it was working. He could see fear in the Brute's eyes - suddenly regretting his lack of weapon - as he backed away from the Chief. He thought John would be an easy kill, a humiliating kill, done with his bare hands.
"You will die here, human. A spilling of foul blood upon Banished ground!"
John proved him wrong.
"The Banished are numerous, deadly, and rivalled the Covenant at the height of their power… But you killed the Covenant, didn't you, John?" Cortana whispered, just on the edge of hearing.
Wham!
"They've killed hundreds of humans here… And they had plans to take control of the Ark. To enslave the galaxy. Doesn't that deserve punishment?"
Whff-crkk, went the right arm of Decimus, breaking under the might of a running, spinning, leaping twist. He screeched in pain, thrashed about now, like an animal, swiping at the speedy Spartan with sluggish gait.
"You are the hammer which breaks. That which will break the Banished. John, you are my Champion."
Bkk, cracked John's elbow upon the thick skull of the Brute, rendering the alien unconscious. John stood above him for a time, simply lording himself over his defeated foe, and marvelled as Cortana's essence travelled throughout the console.
"Just one touch is all I need," she giggled, answering before he could ask. "There was no way they were going to crack into this… But I'm glad we made it… John, grab that Brute and bring him back with us, alright?"
And so he did.
"What, not gonna ask me why?" Cortana teased, her question emboldened by the sudden flashing of lights emanating from the Sentinels.
"No," John answered. "I trust you. He's going to the Spirit for questioning, first."
"Fair, they need their moment alone with him. O-Oh, and we're done here. Come outside when you can, Champion," she chuckled, leaving a piece of herself to monitor the Sentinel site, editing the key so that it would only ever open for her, or John.
Effortlessly John slung the Brute over his shoulder and leapt down to his teammates, who appraised him briefly before calming. Corpses laid at their feet - a dying breath escaping the lips of their last witness - final sight being their commander, defeated.
"Red Team's gonna have a field day with this," Kelly chuckled, holstering her sidearm.
They exited the tower, and found themselves in the heart of the iron swarm. Millions of Sentinels gathered 'round the grounds of the fortress, spilling out raw material and assimilating the scraps and limbs scattered across the battlefield. A few of them managed to partially block out the fake sun, as they constructed, patrolled, and cleaned up the remnants of any Banished force nearby.
"On your left," Cortana hailed them, the Cryptum's spherical form refracting the fractured light like a gem as it flew down. Within seconds the Sentinel horde had constructed a landing pad for the Cryptum, had fabricated the beacon which would allow Cortana access to the remainder of the Ark's expanse.
"God," Fred snickered, "they work fast." Linda chuckled, striding forward first towards the Cryptum's opening maw,and motioned for the rest to join her.
Fred and Kelly gave a look back to John, who still held the barely-breathing Brute on his shoulder, nearly swallowed by his size alone.
John nodded to them, and took off in a sprint towards Red Team's base. "Restock and rest up, Blue Team. We're not finished yet."
He then felt hands roam across his body as he traversed at lightning speeds. Cortana didn't want to spoil his fun, but she took pride at their current situation - how little threat the Banished posed now, thanks to her connection to the Ark. Soon more Guardians would arrive to lock down air and space travel entirely, their Sentinels would create an unending swarm, and John would wound them. Soon her eyes would stretch across the galaxy, picking targets for her Champion from any planet in her grasp.
And still, For now, though, his choice was limited. Break the Brute, break the Banished. Once the Spirit of Fire had finished their questioning of the restrained, injured, frenzied Decimus, Cortana asked for his return. When asked why they shouldn't keep him for ransom, just kill him outright, the AI simply smiled and laughed, explaining the positives of broadcasting his death, his humiliation to scare the gathered alien forces into submission. After all, she had a link to the Sentinels onsite - crafting and hacking into existing comms networks was an easy task. Cutter expressed his doubts, but relented eventually, seeing as John and Blue Team had defeated and secured Decimus in the first place.
"Cutter wished for his head," Cortana echoed, eyes already appraising Decimus' bound, squirming form, sealed tight in a contraption of her making. "But, that's ours. Decimus is ours. I've already begun the process. By the time you place him in the Cryptum I'll have you linked to all known Banished broadcasting networks, so…"
"I'll put on a good show," John assured her, laying his hand over his own body where he felt her.
Cortana felt content, let herself calm among her lofty ambitions, and let out a faux-sigh. Her mind then turned quickly back to her goals, her mission. She conjured a room for John as he entered the Cryptum with the Banished commander over his shoulder. There, John deposited him, letting the device release the weakened, dizzied Brute on the cold, cold floor. And there Cortana found it again; the unmistakable code of arousal, finding its way into her systems.
Slowly, but surely, Decimus managed to rise, barely standing under his own weight as Cortana's microscopic tendrils wormed their way inside his body. "I'll… I'll kill you, if you fight me once more-"
"-You've lost the right to fight, Decimus. You've failed against my Champion, against the Created, and thus your life is forfeit," Cortana blared over the room's speakers, lighting the room harshly, showing screens at its peak. Decimus looked at them, and appeared confused, staring at live recordings of himself.
"What is… The…"
Decimus clutched at his throat as copies of Cortana appeared around John, dismantling his armour slowly, tenderly. The Brute bared witness as his throat tightened, feeling his breath increase in pitch, as John stood while the holographic women kissed at him. It was only when the Spartan's helmet was removed that he balked. That he realised what danger he was in, and what failure had brought him.
"Step forward, try to run, try to submit, your punishment will remain the same," Cortana advised, her clones giving lingering looks to John's hungry eyes. "John will fuck you. And you will be the next to fall, to crumble and give your life to us. Decimus," she trailed, "you will cum. You will know what it's like to rut as the humans do, to be made prey like you have made the Spirit prey."
"You," he gasped at his voice, so much lighter than before, and felt a disgustingly tantalising sensation swell at his chest and groin. "You won't…"
Cortana cackled, taunting the Jiralhanae as it approached John, with shaking steps. "I won't what? I won't get away with this? I already have, Decimus. In hours, you'll be cleaning the floors of the Cryptum with your tongue - and there won't be anything to stop it."
"I… I can't, n-no!"
John made no move as Decimus' fist made contact with his jaw, as she leapt at him. But by the time it reached, connected to his skin, she was stopped. Jerked by a bodily force of hers that elicited a moan. John grabbed her arm, and revealed her chest to him, gripping her armour with force - tearing at it with sheer strength. Broadcast across all alien networks on the Ark was the single, brilliant motion of a tear - the first of the Banished to be ripped asunder. And from that tear did a set of fat, jiggling tits pop.
They were lighter coloured than the rest of her body, but peaked with purple areolae, already dripping with something that made John salivate. It was then Decimus looked down to his lower body, revealed entirely by the Cortana copies. And there, she saw the instrument with which she would be punished. She spared a single, pleading look to the cameras before snapping her gaze back to John.
He was silent. Silent as she felt her ass shake, expand into her pants. Silent as the wind, as he gripped at her, pawed at her, tore the rest of her clothing off. The only thing, the only emotion she could derive from him, was hunger. An animalistic and stalking hunger that reduced her to nothing but prey in his eyes. A hunger that rendered her strikes useless, that only exacerbated her transformation. By the end of it, her armour and clothing was scattered, the excess hair on her body having been removed. Her breasts heaved alongside her panting, scared breaths, and her asscheeks wobbled with every turn she made, trying to see where the Spartan was moving.
"Y-You-mpph!" cried Decimus. Shifting behind her, John clapped his hand over her mouth, and breached her sopping cunt with one fatal thrust. What ensued next was a rhythmic pounding of flesh, an invasion of Jiralhanae space by human force, and the best relation both species had seen since the end of the war. Gripping one arm of hers tightly, John kept his fingers pressed over the Brute's maw, inhaling her new, enticing scent. His thrusts became almost secondary to his pleasure as he inhaled her, taking in that fruity, submissive, "fuck-me" smell.
It engorged his prick further, swelling and hardening beyond what the Cortanas had teased him with. It's intensity added a distinct layer to the clap of Decimus' wetted crotch, making the Brute blush with bloody embarrassment. She could smell herself too, could revel in the musk she was exuding, unleashing without control. She could see her body, unmistakably Decimus but different, on those screens.
And by the rings could she feel it. With every thrust John grunted, forcing a quiet moan out her lips in return, in an audible exchange of supremacy.
"You want this so bad," John's voice beyond deep, beyond raspy to her ears. "You little slut. You smell like bitch, like a bear in heat."
She felt something inside her drop. A hammer, falling on an anvil, shattering it to bits. Heat, just entangling itself around her new hole. Decimus felt all of that at a simple taunt. "Nnmph-mm, hmmn, uhn, rrmph!"
"So let me fuck you like one."
The first thing Decimus did when John released his hand from her mouth was breathe, taking in a deep gulp of air. The second was to gasp again, as he gripped her other arm, jerking them back and splaying her massive mammaries for the cameras to see. The third, which made her quite light-headed, was to gasp again as he sheathed himself inside her, with one thunderous slam. Decimus, for the first time in her new body, came.
She was sure of the motion; just somehow she knew that the jittery, glistening, sparkling swells of her erogenous zones and the flush of feel-good chemicals to her brain meant it. She had cum, to a human cock. The sheer damn shame of it all made more heat rise to her cheeks, made her stomach's knot entangle further, made her wish for more. And so her scent became sweeter.
And so the slaps grew louder. So did her vaginal canal mould to fit John better, to release more wetting essence to slicken his cock for easier fucking. So did Decimus' bod submit without her knowing, driving her brain to its edge. It was only then she realised that text was added to her stream; propaganda outlying her as the beginning of the Banished's fall. Promising sweet release to any and all who would challenge the Created. That, and new lives, safety, medicine, freedom and more for those who would defect.
That made her climax again, with a whining howl of pleasure into the Cryptum's shaken air. Too quickly did she give in, did Decimus accept "she", as a set of holes and nothing more. She wanted it to stop, and continue; thus found herself mixed when John kept up, when she felt him harden like obsidian inside of her. And then, Decimus came again. He'd wrapped a hand around her throat, gentle-like, and creaked it backwards.
One hand still remained on her arm, no doubt bruising it by now, but she felt his entire length inside of her, hardening still, swelling, as it injected her Brute cunt with something deliriously warm.
"Y-You, y-you, filthy human-"
John reached up to her head, and silenced her with a kiss. And continued to cum. Drowning in the glorious smell of the Brute's sweat, her scent, feeling his cock near explode with how much cum erupted from his balls. This felt like impregnation at it's most sullying, for the sake of destroying an enemy, for the sake of humanity. And it felt brilliant. He kept his hand on her throat as he locked eyes with her, squeezing gently as she squirmed in his grip, attempting to shimmy herself off his dick.
It just kept coming. White waves unloading in unrelenting swathes, painting her insides, claiming her over and over and over until Decimus was a gibbering, kissing, wriggling mess of an alien, controlled completely by John's grip. Oodles of semen, expanding the Jiralhanae's already-stretched stomach. It didn't help that John's ears finally heard Cortana's message to the Banished, a multi-language threat that venerated him.
"We will find your commanders. And we shall break them. Reduce them to breeding stock and less."
It was as if Cortana had a clench on his testes, squeezing every drop and more from his body until Decimus was left bloated with semen, tears streaking down her eyes, fluids leaking out her holes. It felt so fucking good to him, the biggest release he'd ever unleashed, a sign of things to come - a sign of a future of just this, pleasuring himself to his heart's content.
She mumbled something to herself, Decimus did. "K-K-K… K-Keep it t-together…"
And so John did his best to make sure she couldn't do that. He reared back, slapped the Brute's ass, and gripped both arms again, jerking her sweat-drenched tits outwards once more. There he pounded the Brute's dripping asshole instead, breaching her quivering barrier without a care, letting his cum squirt out of her abused cunt with every thrust. And at that piercing, at the breakage of her anal resistance, Decimus felt her mind collapse.
No challenge came to mind. No words beyond the gibbers of her native tongue. No taunt, nor response nor pushback formulated itself. Just impulses, though weak. She let herself be fucked, be bred, gripped, her tits played with and sucked in various, humiliating positions. Decimus felt her stomach nearly give as his cock flooded her asshole, spilling into it a tidal wave of hot, primate cum. And there she was made to lap at it, while he laid his foot on her face.
By the end of the session, however long it was, John stood over her. It was only natural. She looked at the screens with barely functioning vision, blinking as the lights became too harsh to stare at, and let her tears fall at the words. "JIRALHANAE WHORE". "PLAYTHING". "HUMAN FLESH-TOY". "BANISHED BITCH". "FAILURE".
It was then Cortana appeared to her, phasing into reality. Another copy of her flickered behind John, and began sucking his dick dry. With awful, wet, slurping sounds the AI lapped at John's crotch, layering kisses on his balls and shaft. Decimus stared up at the Spartan, tongue lolled out into the pooled cum, drunk at it's taste, and blushed as he began fucking the construct's throat.
"Under a human's foot do you lie, Decimus. Transformed from warrior to breeding-slut. From commander to commanded. From Banished to beneath. Submissive to your master, to me," she laughed. "Tell the Banished you love your master, Decimus. Tell them you're just a little cum-drunk Brute whore for my Champion."
Decimus could barely fucking stay awake, let alone parse Cortana's command. A harsh, quick slap to the rear woke her a bit, and she retracted her lolling tongue, quivering at it's taste.
"...I," she croaked, cheeks smushed together under the weight of John's foot. "I…"
Cortana's eyes turned dark, her grin grew. "If you want more… More cum, more sex, more of your master's fat fucking cock… Tell the cameras that the Banished are finished."
"...The… The Banished… Are…" she paused, looking to John, at his hunger, at the litres of human seed being poured down the clones' throat. "F-F-Finished."