Teaching Feeling

by A Salty Archer

They were both machines, killers created by higher causes, brought together for a singular purpose. But war has a way of changing things, and they will have to realize that there is more to life than the battlefield. The only question is, if they will be able to come to that realization before it's too late. (AU Delayed Human/Covvie War)

2. Chapter 2

Teaching Feeling

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Chapter 1: The Girl Soldier and Her First Mission (1/2)

Where was its master?

This was the first subconscious thought that ran through the wild beast's head when it first awoke on the deserted island. It was a deep-seated desire to follow one's orders within it as it knew not how to speak to express this need. It could not even let out a cry unless adequately trained.

It was horribly foolish. Laughably ignorant and violent. However, it was a rare type of beast that had an attachment for people and followed them.

But no matter how far it wandered the island, it could find nothing, no one, to lead it—to give it purpose.

It was a beautiful beast with golden fur and limpid blue eyes.

It could not remember its life before awaking on the sandy shore. It didn't even possess a name.

Still, instead of sitting there, waiting to die, it's instinctively survived for its days. Its body churned and spiked with pain, but it grew used to it, finding it as validation that it was still alive.

For what exactly, it did not know.

It found itself having a hard time digesting food initially, at least large quantities of it. The number of times it threw up left it in more excruciating pain, but it would simply get up and try again. There was no drinkable water on the island, so it drank the juice from the fruits, and slurped the blood from the fish it had caught. It needed to survive—To live for a purpose beyond its current knowledge.

Where was its master?

Days passed; Nights passed. It continued to survive for an unknown amount of time, the days blurring together as it survived various types of weather conditions. Never did it once lament its situation because it did not know how to.

One day, though, while the beast perched itself on a tree, watching the vast ocean with its blue eyes, it noticed something, dressed in dark, almost black clothing. Initially curious, when it felt nothing further, it lost interest, returning to its sightseeing.

Then one of the black figures came and reached out for her, making noises it could not understand.

What seemed to be a memory flashed through the beast's eyes, other shadowed figures from a time long forgotten becoming synonymous with intense pain, and thus considered the gloved hands that reached for it a threat. The stick the beast carried slammed home inside the figure's throat, and it grabbed the shiny L-shaped item from its hip.

A weapon, Its mind supplied. Its hands wound around the handle as if it used such an item before.

The first loud noise the weapon released when it pulled the trigger almost surprised it, but as the second figure went down, blood spewing from its blue face, it felt natural when it pulled the trigger once more.

It was when the third figure hit the ground that the others began to make loud noises. They raised their large metal sticks towards it and opened fire. It retreated into the trees, its territory, as the others followed.

The beast hunted and killed them all. Even as a giant in green with a gold face appeared, the biggest threat of them all; it continued to kill. The green giant eventually cornered it, and the beast fought with all its remaining strength. It was not enough.

The beast woke up minutes after it lost consciousness, finding its body bound to a tree as the giant stood in front of it.

Master?

The beast wasn't sure of it, but something that could beat it, be stronger than it, was indeed something it should follow. As the giant turned and walked away, it struggled against its bonds, uncaring of how its wrist broke under the strain it placed it. Nor when its skin burned against the rope. Nor when its fingernails broke and bled as it forced itself to break the bonds.

When it finally escaped, it was already nighttime, and the giant had long been gone. Still, it did not give up, finding clues in the environment that would lead it to the giant. It had almost taken it the entire night, but when the beast had found it, it was sitting next to a fire. Its green head was gone, revealing a fair-skinned man with hair similar to the beast's own and unkind green eyes. He held silver squares in his hand, a metal rope hanging off the edges of each.

Master?

The green-eyed giant regarded her angrily, making noises that almost made the beast slink back, as it did not understand his anger. So, it simply sat a few meters from him, staring at him from its position. Nothing more was said between them, but it did so too when the man got up later and followed behind him. His green head was back on, his golden gaze regarding the beast as he spoke, before turning around and ignoring it.

Still, it followed.

The giant man's stomach began to make noises, and he went to the ocean, deep enough that the water touched his armored calves. Grunts of dissatisfaction escaped him as he tried to get a fish with his bare hands, making low noises under its breath as he missed before it said the one word the beast knew.

"–kill–"

The beast lunged at the words, grabbing and killing several fish with its bare hands before offering them to the man. The giant man looked surprised but took them and allowed the beast to stay close as they wandered the island.

"–kill—"

"–kill–"

"–kill–"

The beast moved every time the word was spoken, killing whatever the man pointed to. With it believing it had found its master, it acted on his orders.

It was the beast's only function, after all.

Soon, though, large metal creatures came from the sky one day, people in green and red clothing coming out from its behind. The green giant made noises under his breath before pointing at the group and saying, "Kill."

The screams and warm blood that splashed across the beast's face did not bother it as it acted. What did surprise it was when the green man came up and hit it hard enough across the face to cause it to blackout. When it groggily woke up, it found itself in a dark bag and initially began to struggle.

It quickly relaxed when it heard the man's voice, realizing that he was taking it somewhere. Even when the metal creature roared to life and caused the beast's stomach to flip as the space around it shook and rocked, it believed it found its place in life.

Only when the bag was removed, and the beast was met with the blue eyes and the warm hand that embraced it— causing its heart to shudder; only then did it realize.

It found him.

…Was that the green-eyed man was not its true master. At least, not the one it wished to follow.

Its master.

"–Violet–."

Your orders?

"Chief."

So thus, the terrifying wild beast, one that only knew how to devour humans, became a guard dog for the man it would acknowledge as its genuine owner.

---

February 25, 2530

UNSC Athens

"The shirt— not that, the shirt."

Inside the prowler known as the UNSC Athens, most of the crew slept in cryotubes as they traversed slip space. Only the ship's personnel that was considered essential stayed awake to monitor the ship's systems. It was all done to minimize the unnecessary consumption of supplies, a common practice within UNSC starships and even some civilian vessels.

As they neared their destination, the ship's technicians prepared to awaken those who had gone into cryo sleep under for the duration of the trip. They scattered about, carefully eyeing all the screens identifying the status of each pod as they, essentially, 'popped' their 'lids.'

The newly awakened crew groggily awoke, while the Spartans were quick to recover compared to their unaugmented compatriots. The crew members eventually gathered their wits about them and strode to handle their posts, wasting no time due to the sensitivity of their upcoming mission.

Though, not all non-essential personnel had been sleeping in cryostasis. In one particular room in the dormitories, a light remained on for the two residents inside to use.

The room was quiet; only the sounds of plodding footsteps and the low rumbling of the ship's engines interrupted the serene ambiance. Despite the light on inside the room, the world outside the window was pitch black, only the tiny dots that were light-years away adding to the scenery.

"It's a shirt. You're not doing this on purpose, are you?"

The silence was broken once more when one of the residences, a hulking young man with blue eyes and short brown hair, spoke.

The man himself was fair-skinned, not too pale, but barely colored, primarily due to the lack of sun his body had taken during his many travels through starships. His jaw was squared, his facial features defined and deeply carved. Some would even say that he looked attractive in a primal way with his young features' rugged. Though they were becoming more and more worn as his eyes, which contained the intensity of an apex predator, watched his new ward struggle with the new concept he was trying to teach her.

"'Shirt.'"

"The shirt. Shirt."

"'Shirt.'"

The young man sullenly sighed. "No, those are my compression shorts. Put those back." He gestured to the other article of clothing next to her. "Listen, I'm only going to say it one more time."

His voice was low with baritone, one that could even be considered charming if it weren't so deadpan. The faint freckles on his nose scrunched as he tried to figure out the proper way to get the girl in front of him to understand without getting too fed up.

The man in question was named John-117, his last name long forgotten, for he no longer needed one for his duties. The girl he was trying to address, who was one that came to him with no name, was simply called Violet.

The girl, Violet, was currently dressed from the bottom half in her sailor uniform consisting of a white skirt that fell above her knees, leaving her top bare as she cocked her head in what seemed to be confusion—her new surgical scars exposed for the world to see. John withheld a sigh as he tried his best to teach her how to dress without his help. She placed the shorts in her hand down and reached over to the white article of clothing John was pointing at. Instead of grabbing that exact one in her size, she grabbed the overly large black one next to it.

"…That's my shirt. Get your shirt."

Violet's eyes alternated between looking at the black shirt she had in her hand and the white one on the bed next to her. Her eyes seemed to get wider as she processed the information.

John pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling that he would be acting too petty if he snapped at her now. So instead, he leaned against the closet, arms folded across his bare chest as he accepted her silence and let her take her time.

Eventually, the girl nodded, raising the black shirt that was not hers above her head as if it were some treasure she had just realized the value of. "'Shirt…'"

John exhaled a breath mixed with both relief and disappointment. "Close enough. That's right, that is what you wear over your body, remember?"

"This is a 'shirt.'"

"And what will you do with that shirt?"

"Chief—it is a 'shirt.'"

"…Okay. Just give me that one and take the white one. That's yours. You're being a bit much today."

"A 'shirt.'"

"That's enough."

"Chief, a 'shirt.'"

"…Give me the shirt."

What John was attempting to do was teach Violet, as he had been for the past three months on board the UNSC Athens. The girl, who couldn't even say a word when they first met, never having had a proper education. For all he knew, she indeed was an orphan prior to Sam picking her up, or even before she was forcibly augmented.

Since he took her under his own wing, he had decided to teach her how to speak and how to properly use words. They were soon due to go on their first mission, and John wanted Violet to be able to communicate as efficiently as possible for that reason. He already promised himself and her that he would give her all the tools to survive by his side. Unfortunately, while John was incredibly skilled at his use of warfare and leading and instructing people to accomplish the mission, as a lecturer, even for one-on-one lessons, he was terribly unfit for the role.

"Next up, shoes. Put your shoes on."

"Sho…"

"Here, look at how my mouth moves."

"I—am."

"Shoes. Go on, try to say it."

"'Sho—es.'"

"Now say it five times. Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes."

"'Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes.'"

"Good. Now, put your shoes on."

"Chief, you mean: 'Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes.'"

Clearly unfit.

John closed his eyes in exasperation, inhaling through his nose to calm himself. He did walk himself into that one. He also had a strong feeling trying to replicate Chief Mendez would just be detrimental, as her lack of words often left her confused as to why she was being snapped at when his patience would run out.

"Chief."

Still…

"This is annoying…"

"'Annoy—ing.'"

"Forget about it."

"What does 'annoy—ing' mean?"

John felt like crawling back into his bed to sulk. The irritating feeling growing in his skull first thing in the morning was not a pleasant one.

Walking towards the bed, John allowed himself to plop down on it and lay on his back, placing an arm over his eyes to block the room's light.

He could've been sleeping in a cryotube, but the damn girl seemed to have an aversion towards them. Now, he had to spend the entire time in Slip Space travel awake. It was a tedious experience for the super-soldier. Without anything better to do than teach Violet, it sometimes backfired, which ended with him in a worse mood.

For someone like John, anyone that knew him knew he was being incredibly patient. As he was a man whose biology and training nearly made him flawless by nature, he had a hard time empathizing with those who struggled with things he considered 'basic.' It also alienated him from those that could be regarded as 'normal.' Such a man was trying to educate an orphaned child who did not know how to talk. No matter what anyone thought, he was in a state where one could say he was constantly making an effort.

Socially speaking, John was striving. He was pushing himself extraordinarily.

"Chief, it is morning."

"I'm not sleeping. I'm just a bit disappointed in you."

"Do you have any orders for your Violet?"

"…We have you registered under my name as a weapon, but it doesn't mean you have to talk about yourself like you're my property."

"If not, your Violet will be on stand-by."

If there was one thing John was appreciative about, it was that Violet was able to catch on to words like 'stand-by' and 'orders' relatively fast. In fact, military jargon was a subject she was quick to absorb. It was only with words that were used in everyday life that she struggled so much. The difference between the things she was interested in versus those she did not made it harder for her to learn.

Violet truly did not need words, not if she were to stay as John's 'weapon.' She had already proved that the only word she needed for her life was 'kill.' Even so, John had decided to grant them to her ever since the day she spoke his 'name.' In some ways, he wanted her to evolve, knowing that she now had the opportunity to become more than a simple puppet meant to follow the orders of others.

"Go get the comb and start fixing your hair. Put it up like I taught you. As long as you wear that uniform, you're my subordinate. You being unable to maintain a professional appearance while I'm not around would be a problem for me in the long run."

It seemed that she at least knew the word 'comb' at this point, as she immediately took it from the government-issued dresser that was inside the room. Standing next to the full-body mirror, Violet began combing her hair. She had made an improvement to when she first started, but her hair was still damaged from the malnutrition she used to suffer from, so the ends tended to tangle. When she tried to force the comb through, John stood from the bed and apprehended her hand from behind.

"Stop, don't treat your hair like that. I swear, if you keep doing that, then we'll just be better off cutting it all off." John muttered while he carefully untangled the tips of her hair with his large but deft fingers before brushing the comb down its entire length.

It was what John wanted to do at first, despite his appreciation of her golden hair. Few of the other Spartans had actually voiced disagreement to that decision, stating that all she needed to do was take care of it. In the end, John was forced to learn how to correctly brush, braid, and bun hair by the females in his unit without causing pain. Even so, he preferred to put Violet's hair in a low ponytail to keep it simple for himself.

He still remembered how hard Daisy threw him when he tried to force the comb through her hair. John had to lay on the floor for a while to regain his breath as she cussed him out the entire time.

Violet remained stock-still. John, so focused on the current task, did not realize that the facial expression on her was a bit different from her usual deadpan.

"Chief."

"What?"

"Should your Violet comb your hair as well?"

"Stop talking in third person, just say 'I' or 'me' when talking about yourself. And besides, my hair is too short to comb. I'd have to grow it out more, but I'll pass. I don't like my hair to be that long."

Whether she understood or not, Violet closed her eyes, as if holding back something. "All right…"

---

Once the two were adequately clothed and situated, they headed towards the bridge. The corridors were practically abandoned as they made their way through the ship, but it was bustling with life by the time they made it to the elevator towards the bridge. The newly awaken Prowler Corps crew members went to and fro from their stations of duty. The onboard stationed ODST's company were already headed towards the mess hall, and they even saw some Spartans already at the gym.

As the elevator rose to the bridge, the ship lurched a bit, causing Violet to wobble a bit as she tried to regain her footing, body tense and rigid.

"Relax. It's just the ship leaving Slip Space." John reminded her as they arrived, the elevator doors opening for them as they stepped out.

"Wait here," John told Violet as they entered the bridge, John making a direct beeline to the Captain as Violet waited by the entrance. "Sir, Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117, reporting for duty, sir."

John's heels clicked together as he brought a stiff arm into a crisp salute towards the Captain of the UNSC Athens.

Captain Matthias Connor turned around and returned the gesture. "At ease, Chief. Good to see you up here already. Just in time too, we just exited Slip Space and are now orbiting Levosia."

The world where the Insurrectionists began?

Laviosa was one of the colony worlds in the 26 Draconis system when the Castillo Incident occurred in 2494. A tragic event in where terrorists hijacked the UNSC Castillo during a routine contraband inspection that was being done in the system after there were suspicions of a smuggling ring that were diverting materials that could be used to create Shaw Fujikawa Translight Engines to the black market. The hijacking ended with the entire crew of the Castillo being killed. The UNSC responded by sending a battle group of three destroyers in response, with all four warships being disabled by the end of the conflict.

The aftermath was bloody, with the Insurrectionist movement gaining massive traction after the UNSC began to crack down on dissent amongst the system. Laviosa was one of the first outer colony worlds that the UNSC fought against the Insurrectionists on, contesting it after ten years of fighting once the former began to use nuclear weapons in an effort to contain the rebels.

Laviosa afterward fell back into UEG control, albeit an unstable one. With the resentment still fresh inside of many colonizers' heads, the peace that was had on the colony was an uneasy one. If they were being sent there for a mission, it could only mean bad news.

"Report to the conference room with your team for further briefing, Chief. Bring your new… weapon with you. There are those up top that are still doubtful about her use. I've already read the reports, so you don't have to explain yourself to me, son. You can use this mission to prove them wrong. We will be going live with our operation at 2300 tonight. Make sure you and your team are ready by then."

"…Yes, sir." John saluted once more before about-facing and striding out the bridge. As he exited, Violet, who had been waiting patiently by the entrance, followed him wordlessly from behind, quiet as a shadow.

---

"Nice to see everyone here. I'm Lieutenant Matthews from ONI's Section One. I will be your military advisor and your eye in the sky for this mission until further notice… Or we all get killed." As the gathered Spartans all took a seat in the conference room, a fair-skinned man in a black suit with easy green eyes and light brown hair long enough to be out of regulation greeted them. Behind him was a screen, where a picture of an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and slight wrinkles was displayed.

"The man you are looking at is Marcus Franco, a minority UEG leader at the Syca State Senate within the Levosia Planetary Government and anti-war activist of the UNSC/Insurrectionist conflict. He's been a rather infamous figure within the planet for the past few months following the assassinations of multiple Innie HVT's—done by this unit. Most notably, his taking of a vocal stance against the Insurrection and their terrorist ways. There was even some criticism against the UNSC, though it wasn't as prominent. Well, this angered quite a few rebel sympathizers on the planet, to the point that civil unrest is at an all-time high on Leviosa. There have been multiple bombings and vandalism against multiple properties which were to host him for further speeches."

The picture then changed, showing a newsfeed of the aftermath of such attacks. People, dead or wounded, littering the area of what looked to be a convention, or injured children being taken in by EMT personnel at the scene of the crime for treatment.

"The attacks since then have been escalating in violence, with an armed movement gaining traction in the very providence the Senator manages, Sylca, at an alarming pace. There has been some intel provided that these rioters have even acquired chemicals and explosives from raiding a UNSC supplies carrier passing the system."

"This has convinced those up top that they may be funded and may be receiving training by one of the bigger Insurrectionists groups such as the United Rebel Front and the Freedom and Liberation Party. These theories have not been confirmed lately, but the casualties have been piling up since these attacks have begun, both civilian and UNSC personnel. The last counts we have are five hundred dead and fifteen hundred injured and under medical care."

"With the state of Sylca being designated as a potential battle zone, with both Colonial Guard and local police forces attempting to quell the growing rebellion, ONI has seen it fit to secure the Senator and transport him off-world before the rebels get their hands on him. For now, he has been seeking asylum at city hall. Recent surveillance footage has shown a steady rise in rioters growing during our time in Slip Space, but there have been IDs on confirmed Insurrectionist splinter cells amongst the rioters."

The screen changed once more, showing an angry mob throwing rocks and trashing property that followed the road towards the city hall, which then grew to torching police vehicles and detonating explosive ordinance. It switched to police in riot control gear arriving at an intersection in an effort to push back the mob using nonlethal tactics and ordinance, with varying degrees of success as most were pushed back.

"We feel as if it's only a matter of time before things escalate towards violence once more, even with local police and Colonial Guard support at city hall. We cannot allow the rebels on this planet to get a hold of Senator Franco to potentially be made an example of. It's already painting a bad enough picture that we're having a tough time controlling a domestic rebellion in UEG controlled space—especially after the Castillo Incident. At the same time, the possible political fallout of his capture would be worse. It could be bad enough to throw more gasoline into the fire that might lead to real civil war between the colonies."

"This is where you come in, Spartans. Today, the Senator and his staff will be extracted from the city hall by Pelican and transferred onto the UNSC Raycom for protection. With his presence gone, we will then put the providence into martial law and deal with the rebels accordingly. The clock is ticking, Spartans. Let's get to it. Major Sullivan, if you may."

With a small nod, Matthews allowed an elderly man in ODST fatigues to take the stage, who quickly clasped his hands behind his back and addressed the Spartans. "Your objective is to provide overwatch to ensure the Senator safety as he boards the Pelican and is transportation to the UNSC Raycom. Any persons identified as a threat are to be detained or neutralized according to the ROE. If there is no threat to be found after the Senator is secured, you will exfil and RTB. Spartan-117, your team and a second will be the acting QRF for this op."

"Sir, is it possible for us to have sniper support?" John asked immediately. Linda's head perked.

Sullivan nodded. "We can convince our friends at the local police force to spare a Falcon to make that happen. The 127th Shock Troop Battalion has given us Fury Company's 1st Platoon to be on standby in case things get hectic on the ground in nearby Pelicans. They will be able to provide short-range artillery, while the Levosia Colonial Guard will be providing outer cordon of city hall and air support. ISR will be provided by the Atlas, which comms will be bouncing off of. Any questions?"

---

After they were dismissed, John quickly picked those that would be part of Blue Team—Kelly-089, Fred-104, and William-043— led by him, and Gold Team—Daisy-023, Cal-141, and Grace-093— led by Joshua-029, with Linda-058 providing sniper cover. They then went to the armory to properly equip their Mark-IV MJOLNIR suits and ready their loadouts.

All the while, Violet followed John, her eyes going slightly wide when she witnessed the arms of the machine whirl and graft the pieces of armor onto his matte black tech suit, locking them into place. It was finished off by placing his helmet over his head.

John's now golden gaze fell onto Violet's form before moving a bit further into the armory and grabbing a duffle bag from inside one of the lockers. After inspecting the contents, he dropped it in front of her and revealed that what was inside was a set of Marine BDU's, sized to Violet's small form as closely as was available at his personal request. The fatigues and boots had a greenish-gray camouflage, while the armor itself was reflective drab and matte forest green.

John gestured for Violet to stand in front of him as he handed her the fatigues and boots. "Take your clothes off and put those on."

Without pause, Violet quickly stripped herself of her sailor uniform and put on the fatigues while John prepared the armor parts. Once she was dressed, he then began to strap on every piece of armor, making sure each part was secured as much as possible as he did so.

"Is this fine? Not too tight?" He asked her as he finished adjusting the chest piece composed of heavy plating.

"It is—fine," Violet said after she flapped her arms and legs around a little, testing her mobility with the armored shoulder, forearm, thigh, and shin pieces. "I can—fight."

Even with her saying that John still made sure to double-check, making sure that the equipment ordered on short notice was absolutely primed for sortie. "…You'll be in my squad for this mission. You will be designated as Blue-5. Make sure to follow my orders, and we'll be back in the Atlas in no time. Understood?"

"Yes. Please, Chief—give your Violet orders."

John's helmet hid his frown as he reached for the pair of polarized ballistic goggles and helmet, slipping both of them over her head. Still, even with the coverings, gold flecks of hair peeked from the ends of the helmet, while the polarization didn't prevent John from noticing how her eyes looked up towards him once more after he was finished.

You shouldn't be here.

"Let's go."

They approached the other Spartans, all of who were selecting their armaments for the mission while muttering to themselves.

"It just doesn't make any sense," Kelly said as she slid the last shell into her shotgun, pumping it once and slinging it over her back. "Why wait so long to place the area under martial law if it's getting so bad? All it did was make the situation even worse."

"I doubt it was the UNSC's choice. Most likely, the Levosia Colonial Government's decision. With the Colonial Guard already making a stand, direct interference from the UNSC, the Senator's removal might've caused the situation to deteriorate faster. It might cause mass panic and sway anyone on the fence towards the rebel's side. The fact that it's also the planet the present Insurrectionist movement sparked makes it an even more fragile situation." Fred commented, placing a few more magazines for his DMR into his pouches before pulling out his knives and inspecting them.

"Man, who cares? If anything, it feels like overkill, sending two teams of us for a simple Senator that couldn't stop running his mouth. The brass has been sending us on missions that have been giving us a high profile lately. What do you think, Chief?" Grace asked as she loaded another round of 40mm for her XM510 grenade launcher into the bandolier strapped around her torso.

John didn't turn their way as he grabbed an MS7 SMG along with an M6C magnum before handing them to Violet. The SMG, which was small in his hands, suited Violet's comfortably. He stopped himself before he allowed such thoughts to bother him. They would only serve as a distraction. "The details don't matter right now. We have a mission, and we have to execute. Is everyone ready?"

John grabbed a MA5C and another M6C for himself as he faced his teams for the mission. Daisy gave Violet a glance. "Why are we bringing the brat? We don't need dead weight for this mission."

"You're just still mad she bit you," Cal chuckled from her position against the wall. Daisy didn't take this reminder well, jabbing a finger in her direction, a sneer in her voice.

"Just 'cause you like her for being a freaky ass little doll- "

John's lips curled.

"That's enough." Everyone went quiet at his harsh tone. "Whether or not Violet will be involved in the mission is nobody's concern but my own. If there's any issues, then we'll deal with them in the ring after the mission. Are we ready for sortie?"

Effectively cowed, Daisy merely scoffed but nodded. Cal gave him a thumbs up, along with Grace. Fred and Kelly gave their affirmative, and Linda, always the reliable one, mag locked her rifle and nodded.

Will, who was staring at Violet while cupping his chin, hummed. "No, no. Daisy might have a point there. The kid looks like those porcelain dolls that I saw that one time when we were on…" He trailed off when John's helmet drifted in his direction, causing him to put his hands up and shrug. "You know what, never mind. I get it. Let's do this, boss."

John's tone remained hard. "File out in your respective teams to your Pelican's. Move out."

The teams departed to their respective aircraft. John glanced down towards Violet, who had holstered her magnum and clutched her SMG against her chest. She looked up at him.

John forced himself to ignore the unpleasant feeling forming in his chest as those blue eyes continued to seek no one but him.

"Chief–orders?"

—And his commands.

I'll need to teach her more words once this is over.

"Stay close."

"Yes."

---

February 20, 2530

Sylca Providence, En Route to City Hall

26 Draconis System, Levosia

Levosia was one of the more comparatively smaller colonies the Spartans had been deployed to, at least compared to those in the Epsilon Eridani system. Either way, Levosia was still a strong, densely populated world.

Which was why, with only one of its providences up in arms, the streets below them looked like a warzone that was growing wilder and wilder with each passing second. Gunfire echoed; stray bullets flew by the Spartans Pelicans as they came closer to their objectives. Down at the streets, fires raged, and desperate Police and stray Levosia Colonial Guard forces tried to hold back the large patches of rioters. Overturned burning vehicles, both civilian and police, littered the roads, preventing the Colonial Guards' vehicles from advancing. They could see ordinary civilians defend themselves from those who tried to take advantage of the chaos among the fighting.

Will let out a low whistle as he stared out from the back of the Pelican, Bravo-210. "I thought we were here to stop the providence from going up in flames."

"Tch, you're telling me," Kelly muttered. "'Civil unrest,' huh? It's already a full-fledged uprising out here."

"It's getting pretty bad. It's going to be hard to identify civilians when they look the same as the bad guys." Fred agreed.

'Cheer up, guys.' John could almost imagine what Sam would say as he looked at the destruction. 'Once we get the word, this whole place will be a free-fire zone.'

John understood why his friend couldn't join his team anytime soon, even if he didn't fully agree with him. Keeping him and Violet as far away from each other was the correct choice. That didn't stop him from wishing that Sam could stand by his side right now—vigilantly watching John's back as he always did.

He glanced at Violet, who showed no signs of nervousness to the disaster outside. The thought of battle must've been just another day for her, if she even had a proper understanding of the subject, judging from how she was idly swinging her legs from her seat. Her head would bobble up and down towards him as if reaffirming his existence—her deadpan expression never changing. For what must've been the hundredth time since they've met, John wondered what precisely the extent of the damage that was done that caused her to behave in such a way.

Her personality and emotions, or lack thereof, were what truly estranged her to many, even John at times.

Fear was not absent in the mind of the Spartans. In fact, fear was almost a welcomed emotion they acknowledged, as it made them sharper, less prone to make mistakes. It also made them restless; causing a heightened sense of things that was enhanced with their augments. To be without fear was to cripple those senses.

Still, he did notice that, while she didn't seem to be afraid, her head would jerk moments before a bullet would impact and ricochet off the armored surface of the Pelican. It was as if something was warning her of incoming fire.

Excellent sense of danger in replacement of fear.

It almost reminded John of Kurt—with his gut feelings often being a sixth sense towards ambushes and danger. Something that often saved everyone on the mission when he was there. It was something John indeed exploited when he had the chance to get him under his command.

It seems like he found a nifty replacement, in a way.

"Blue Leader, this is Racehorse," Bravo-210's Pilot's voice echoed through John's comm. "We're approaching the Sylca Police Department Headquarters. Seems like they're already waiting on Guardian-1's arrival."

"Copy that, Racehorse," John replied before he nodded towards Linda. "You're up, Guardian-1."

Her acknowledgment lights winked once as she stood up, holding her custom SRS99C-S2 AM sniper rifle against her hip as she approached the entrance of the cargo bay.

Bravo-210 lowered itself onto the SPD helipad, Linda jumping out of the rear and quickly boarding the police UH-144 Falcon awaiting her. Her acknowledgment lights winked through John's HUD. He banged a fist against the cockpit door, and they were airborne once more alongside November-010, Gold team's Pelican.

"Blue Leader, this is Guardian-1. In the air and awaiting orders."

"Wilco, Guardian." John acknowledged before changing frequencies. "Overseer, this is Blue Leader. QRF is ready for deployment. Approaching the Sylca City Hall."

"Overseer acknowledges all, Blue Lead. Satellites show that the rioters seemed to have gotten wind of the Senator's extract. They are growing in numbers and are rapidly overwhelming Colonial Guard forces watching the perimeter, approach with caution, Blue Lead." Matthews responded over the comm.

"Copy that. Gold Lead, this is Blue Lead, stay frosty. Rioters are escalating in violence."

"Terrific," Joshua sighed. "Gold Team is tracking, Blue Lead. We'll be ready to stack bodies if it comes to it."

Let's hope that it doesn't.

The frequency of bullets pinging off the Pelicans' surface was quick to dash away those hopes, small as they were.

Violet was now gripping her SMG in a white-knuckled grip, the only sign of her growing tension as Bravo-210 began to sway to and fro.

"Taking small arms fire."

"Racehorse, this is Globetrotter. I have eyes on Able-006. They are extracting the VIP now, but they are under heavy fire." November-010's Pilot called out on the comm.

"Copy that. Can you pinpoint where they're firing from?"

"Aye… I see foot mobiles converging on the nearby rooftops near the city hall. Permission for gun run?"

"Uh, negative on that Globetrotter. Civilians may be mixed in with hostile elements. Until we can confirm, we will abide by the ROE, unless you have non-lethal methods to use?"

John cut in. "Gold-3 has a few 40-mike mike's infused with CS gas. She can scatter them and provide a bit of relief for Able-006 and the VIP."

"Roger that, Blue Lead. Permission for non-lethal dispatch is allowed, Globetrotter."

"Copy, Racehorse. We're moving to interce— oh, fuck. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! RPG'S ON THE ROOF! RPG'S ON THE ROOF! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

John hid his grimace as he saw rockets fly from multiple rooftops towards the city hall, leaving trails of smoke. They struck the building, and its gate before two of them hit the Pelican sitting on the roof's helipad, the subsequent explosion engulfing it into a ball of flame and metal.

"Shit! Able-006 is gone!" Globetrotter cried out in dismay.

"Rioters just breached the perimeter! I repeat! The city hall has been compromised!" Racehorse was quick to add.

"What's the status of the VIP?!" Matthews almost snarled into the comm.

"VIP is alive and being secured back into the building, Overwatch!"

"QRF is deploying to assist in VIP extraction." Violet and the Spartans jumped to their feet as John grabbed the overhead railing of the cargo bay. "Bring us to the rooftop, Racehorse."

"Sir! The rooftop's too hot for a drop-off! We can drop you at a nearby intersection about a klick out—"

"Unacceptable, Racehorse!" Matthews snapped. "They'll be too far to secure the VIP— especially with rebels breaching the city hall; they won't make it in time! The rooftop is the only method we can use! We're already sending Fury Company's 1st Platoon for backup! Lethal force is authorized! Get them on that roof, Warrant Officer!"

"Shit…" Racehorse whispered gravely. "…Moving to deploy! Blue Lead, the zone is hot! Globetrotter, weapons free on those Rocket team on the roofs! Give us some breathing room!"

Bravo-210 shuddered and rocked as it began to fly towards the city hall evasively, missiles screaming past them as they did. November-010 turned towards the rooftops, its spotlight illuminating the rooftops as it did.

"Copy that, Racehorse! Intercepting hostiles. Gun. Gun. Gun." The Pelican's M370 nose autocannon burped out rounds at the nearby rooftops. Red mist and debris exploded as the rebel's rocket teams were torn and dismembered by the 70mm depleted uranium rounds. The muzzle flashes that came from the rooftops increased in frequency as a consequence, aimed directly at the two UNSC Pelicans. The autocannon didn't cease its fire, even if the presence of unknowns mixed within the groups were confirmed to be civilians or not.

John gripped the overhead railing harder, his hand squeezing the metal with a screech, as Bravo-210 swooped out of the way of another missile screaming by. "It's gonna a hot one, Blue. We're green on lethal force once we land. Engage all hostiles."

"My language, Chief," Kelly replied, gripping her own pair of railings as she steadied herself.

"Easy mission," Quipped Will from his similar position.

"Let's do this," Fred said, pulling himself alongside John. "We got your back, Chief."

"Guardian-1, this is Blue Lead. Give support where you can but avoid the rocket teams. Fire at will." John informed Linda over the TEAMCOM.

Her acknowledgment light winked green once before he heard the familiar crack of a sniper rifle.

John almost smiled under his helmet; smooth operators, his team was.

The missile that proceeded to strike the side of Bravo-210 was quick to remove any good feelings. The explosion was strong enough to cause the aircraft to lurch as it began to spin out of control. One of its engines blew apart as it did.

"Bravo-210 is hit—we're hit!" Racehorse's barked into the comm. His voice strained as he struggled against the controls. "Power up! Stay on the collective!"

From what John could see, they were still some ways from the rooftop, far enough that ordinary soldiers wouldn't be able to make the jump. Fortunately, the MJOLNIR armor Spartans were configured with the latest advancements in technology; their suit's built-in thrusters would be enough to close the distance. They could make it.

"Bail out!" John shouted at his Spartans. "Bail!"

Fred was the first one, followed by Kelly and Will as they jumped from the cargo bay onto the roof, their suits thruster packs firing up as they aimed their landings towards the roof. Their thrusters settled before kicking in once more prior to making contact with the surface to keep them from collapsing it from their weight. John was about to follow them before he froze, turning to face the one person on his team he had nearly forgotten lacked the same armor he and his fellows had. The only non-Spartan on his team.

Big blue eyes regarded him calmly, even as the owner of such a pair clutched the seat's safety harness with all her might.

The Pelican had no rope to rappel from. With the current situation, she was ill-equipped. Which meant that all she could do was go down with the Pelican and—

"Bail—Chief? What does—?"

No, she would not die.

Not while she's following my orders.

"Come here!" He snapped, throwing a hand towards her as Violet came rocketing his way the moment the command left his lips. He wrapped his arm around her as soon as she made contact with his chest—quickly and as gently as he possibly could before he leaped back out of Bravo-210's cargo bay. His free hand lashed out, grabbing hold of one of the rear landing legs as they span with the Pelican. Even with his vision distorted and moving at a dizzying pace, he still could make out the rooftop of the city hall.

When the Pelican hit the peak of one of its spins facing the building, John released his grip, using his momentum and thrusters to propel his body far enough for him to barely land into a slide across the roof. Gravel crunched and flew as he slid, his arms wrapped around Violet, shielding her from excess debris.

Their momentum halted, and John released Violet as he sat up, giving her a quick once over as she stared at his visor. "You hurt?"

She blinked once before her hands wandered across her body, searching for any sharp pain or blood just like he had taught her. She showed him her palms when she was done with her blood sweep. Clean. "I am fine, Chief."

"Alright," Even though he let her know of his acceptance of her assurances, his fingers still came up and slid between the gap of her helmet and head. He ignored the way her hair tangled around his armored fingers as he quickly checked for any wounds. Once he confirmed the lack of blood on his fingertips, he pulled her onto her feet.

"Ah, shit! I can't hold her! Overwatch, this is Racehorse! We're going down!"

"Racehorse!" John snapped into the comm. "The team has bailed! Try to land away from the city hall!"

"Ugh! Roger that! Brace! Brace! Brace!"

Blue Team watched as Bravo-210 all but nose-dived away from the city hall. Its remaining engine blew as it descended past the nearby buildings and away from their line of sight. A resounding crash and screech of metal signaled the Pelican's impact.

Globetrotter went on comm. "Jackson… shit. Blue Lead, I'll swing around and do a pass over the rooftop for Gold Team. I'll need cover to—"

"Negative, Globetrotter." John denied as he and his team went to the roof entrance, stacking up at the door. "Move to Bravo-210's crash site. Gold Lead, extract any survivors, and then rally at the city hall."

"Copy that, boss," Joshua replied.

"…Thank you, sir." The relief in Globetrotter's voice was heavy.

"Blue Lead, that is not the mission priority. The Senator's extraction still stands as mission-critical. What do you think you're doing?"

John almost gave in to his urge to ignore Matthews as Kelly swiftly kicked the metal door off its hinges, immediately being met with a shrieking whine of the indoor alarm. Blue Team made their way down the stairs, their weapons at the low ready. Civilians, city hall workers no doubt, scattered the stairwell as they made their way, their eyes going wide when they were met with the seven-foot-tall, armored behemoths, and the minor child soldier.

"Sir," John resisted the urge to sigh out as he explained himself. "Blue Team will be more than enough to extract the Senator without further complications. Gold Team will also be able to clear a path to us after extracting the pilots, making it safer for when we leave the city hall."

"I'm just reminding you of what the actual objective is, in case you've forgotten, Blue Leader. I'm trusting you to complete it. You have your orders."

"Yes, sir."

"Cheery guy," Will muttered as they entered the top floor offices, immediately being met with a civilian in a suit barking orders to the rest of the workers. "This must be the Senator."

"Neg, that's just his secretary." Kelly corrected as the man perked up when he saw them. He ran up to them with a hopeful look on his face, albeit nervous as he got closer to them.

"A-Are you the extraction team?"

John nodded. "Affirmative. Where are the Senator and the rest of his staff?"

"They're in the offices in the back. One of the staff, Miranda, got hit by a stray piece of debris when those rebels blew up the Pelican. Come on; I'll show you."

"W-Wait," They all paused when one of the office workers stepped up toward them, nervously wringing their hands. "What about the rest of us?"

The secretary looked troubled, sending an unsure look to the Spartans. It seemed as if he didn't want to trouble himself with the employees' issue, but he wasn't able to become utterly callous towards their situation.

John, however, could. He had a mission to accomplish. "Let's go."

"B-but…" The office workers hung their heads hopelessly as the Spartans ignored them and left with the secretary. "What about us…?"

All except Fred, who felt a bit of sympathy towards them and lingered behind. "You should barricade the doors and see if you can't get yourselves weapons. After we extract the Senator, the mobs should disperse."

His words were empty ones; everyone knew that. Once they extracted the Senator and his staff, the mob would need to release their anger on another outlet. Those who had housed the man would be the next best target, and the doors of the city hall were only so strong.

The worker thinly smiled at Fred's attempt at comforting them. "Thanks… I guess."

Fred's helmet hid his frown as he went to follow his team. "Sorry…"

The secretary brought them through another set of offices after they went through the hallways, the panicking workers jumping out of the Spartan's way when they saw them. As they approached the Senator's location, they could hear the pained shrieks and cries of a woman as they entered one of the office cubicles.

Senator Marcus Franco was there, along with his staff. Miranda, the staffer that had gotten hit, was lying on the ground. A part of her face was caved in, her nose broken, and her jaw dislocated, as she clutched at a large piece of metal shrapnel that was lodged in her stomach as she bled. Blood, mucus, and tears fell from her face as she moaned and cried.

"Kelly, check the woman's wounds. Fill her up with biofoam and give her a sedative if you need to." John then faced Franco as his Spartan moved to treat the civilian. "Sir, we're your extract. Are you ready to move?"

Franco's eyes went wide as he entirely took in John's towering form, his gold visor reflecting his gaze. His eyes flickered towards Violet. "U-Um, ye-yes. As soon as Miranda's good to move," He winced when Kelly none too gently removed the piece of metal shrapnel from the woman's stomach, eliciting a shriek of pain from her as she writhed on the ground, dry-heaving and wrenching as her stomach was filled with biofoam. "U-Um, are you guys Special Forces or something?"

"'Or something.'" John looked at Kelly as she stabbed a syringe into Miranda's neck, cutting off her cries as she fell unconscious. "How is she?"

"Had to tranq her." Annoyance leaked into Kelly's tone. "She'll live, but someone's gonna have to carry her if she has to come." She looked up at John, sulkily drooping her shoulders. "She does, doesn't she?"

"Priority is the Senator. The rest of the staff are secondary." He told her over the TEAMCOM, muting his helmet's voicemitter, then switching back to say to her normally. "You'll look over her for now. At least until we can get into a defendable position." He looked at Franco. "The front door is being breached by the rebels and rioters, is there another way out of here?"

Senator Franco rubbed the back of his head, unsure. "There's a- um, an underground garage that leads out towards the back of the building, but the walls outside cover everything that leads to the entrance. I don't see how we're getting out of here without going through the front gate?"

If they weren't being dragged down by civilians, Blue Team would be able to commit to a frontal assault out of city hall if they really wanted to. Not the most ideal situation, but one that the Spartans knew they could do if they needed to.

"We'll figure it out," John decided. "For now, we need to make our way to the garage as quick as we can."

"Um!" One of the other staff spoke up, flinching when the Spartan's gold visors fell on her. "T-The elevator is down, but there are service ways that lead into a basement to the garage. But you can only open the garage door with the security captain's key card."

"And where is the security captain?"

"Um, he was outside assisting with the perimeter…"

Another explosion rocked the building, and they could hear the angry voices and yells as bullets and rocks began to strike the bullet-proof windows.

"Well, there goes that option..." Will murmured.

"We can handle the security gate at the garage. Let's get moving." John told them.

They left the offices into the stairwell, Miranda hanging off Kelly's shoulders in a fireman carry. Through the windows, they could see the rioters overwhelming the Colonial Guard forces that had been securing the building, either forcing them to surrender or gunning them down. Hell, some soldiers even joined the rebels, facing their weapons toward the building and opening fire.

"Overwatch, this is Blue Lead. Some Colonial Guard soldiers have begun to join the rebels. Please advise."

"This is Overwatch… the Leviosa Colonial Guard will now be considered 'neutral.' Do not engage at sight, but in accordance with the ROE."

That would be a tough call for John to make, especially if the Colonial Guard sees UNSC forces killing down their soldiers. It might be enough for them to convert right then and there.

"Copy that, Overwatch. Gold Lead, status?"

"This is Gold Lead. We boots on the ground and just secured the Bravo-210's pilots into November-010. We're headed towards the city hall building now."

"Copy that. We're exfiling the VIP towards the back of the building through an underground parking garage. Meet us by the wall around that area."

"Wilco, sir. We're Oscar-Mike."

The group entered the first floor, immediately being met with a group of rioters making their way through the security checkpoint that separated the two factions between a thick wall of bullet-resistant glass. That didn't stop a few of the rioters from opening fire on them, their bullets bouncing off the glass.

"Holy shit." Senator Franco whimpered as they continued to move.

They went to the next room, where the security checkpoint ended, the reinforced doors sealing the office workers and colonial guard soldiers from the rioters. Still, the rioters bashed against the doors with whatever they could get their hands on chairs, bats, and even sledgehammers.

"Who the—w-what the hell?!" One of the Colonial Guard soldier's guarding the interior cried out in shock when he turned and saw the Spartans. "I-Identify yourself! Are you with the UNSC?"

Violet snapped her weapon up when the soldier pointed his at them, but John quickly placed a firm hand on top of her SMG before she could get a shot out, forcing her to aim it downward. He shook his head at her before addressing the soldier.

"We're the Senator's extract. Anything else is classified." John glanced at the security doors that were viscously being attacked before staring down at the soldier. It wouldn't hold for long. "Are you all that's left?"

"Y-Yeah. My squad was meant to secure the interior, while the rest of my platoon went to secure the perimeter." The soldier, Sergeant Vasquez, according to his nametape and rank, eyed the rioters warily. "I'm guessing they didn't make it."

"Seems so," John looked to the side, where Will was trying to open one of the doors that led to the first-floor offices of the building. "What's the hold-up, Blue-4?"

"It's locked," Will replied, tapping the card reader next to the door. "Needs a security key to get through."

"Do you have the key, Sergeant?" Vasquez blinked before he began to pat down his pockets, digging into one of them and pulling out a silver card.

"I do—"

"Move! Out of the way!" A new, raspy voice barked out from the other side of the security door as a man in full kit wearing tan and red clothing, an Insurrectionist soldier, walked up to it, throwing a beaten Colonial Guard soldier on the floor before them. "Open this door now! We only want the Senator! No one else has to die today!"

"Holy fuck, Mathis!" One of Vasquez's soldiers cried in horror, paling at the sight of his comrade. "We've got to save him, Sergeant!"

"Negative," John stopped the soldier from opening the security gate by placing a large hand on his chest. "You do that; you'll kill everyone on this side of the room. Get us out of here, Sergeant."

"B-But we can't just leave him."

"You're really gonna let him die for that piece of shit, Sergeant?" The Insurrectionist sneered before pulling out a magnum and pulling the trigger, blowing a bloody hole through the beaten soldier's head as he fell over, dead. "It didn't have to be like this! Can't you see that the UNSC is just going to use you?! They even sent their machine freaks to secure that fucker! You're expendable to them!"

Vasquez closed his eyes, looking away from the scene and ignoring his soldiers' dismayed cries as he made his way to Will, placing the keycard against the reader. The door unlocked with a click. "We'll hold them off here. You guys better go on ahead."

John frowned. The execution of that one soldier already left the taste of ash in his mouth, but it was the correct decision made to accomplish the objective. He didn't want any other potential comrades dying if he could help it, though. "You sure about this, Sergeant? You can come with us."

Vasquez chuckled darkly, staring at the rioters who resumed their assault against the security gate once more. "No, we've got a score to settle. An eye for an eye, y'know?"

John did not 'know,' as the survival of him and his men would be impossible with these odds stacked against them. He could even see the men in his squad; while most of them wore grim looks of approval to his words, few of them didn't look enthused at the thought of a final stand.

He could empathize with the soldier. During training, John always kept his and his Spartans' impulses in check, especially when their training escalated to the point most of their instructors were actually trying to kill them as children. He knew the feeling of wanting to get revenge when they went too far on his fellow trainees to make a point, but he always kept the mission first and foremost in his mind, as survival in an unwinnable situation often meant that the enemy ultimately failed in their objective.

John could see that Vasquez's mind was already made up, and he wasn't sure how to convince him otherwise without wasting too much time. He instead placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a slight nod. "Good luck, Sergeant."

Vasquez smirked wryly before handing the keycard to John. "We'll give these terrorist assholes some hell. Watch yourself out there, sir."

He slipped the card into one of the tactical hard case he had strapped onto his left thigh before giving Blue Team a quick gesture. "Move out, Blue."

"I'll take point, Chief," Will said. John winked his acknowledgment lights green once in response and he went through the door first. John followed after with Violet shadowing him, Kelly, and the civilians in the center; Fred was bringing up the flank.

They heard a vehicle outside screech by as they made their way to another set of offices where a civilian supervisor was attempting to calm down his coworkers. The shouts and screams coming from the operators inside telling the team that they were anything but friendlies.

"Blue Lead, this is Guardian-1. You have enemy vehicles inbound, over." Linda's voice sounded through the comm, followed by several cracks of her sniper rifle.

"Copy that, Guardian-1. Gold Lead, what's your status?" John asked over the TEAMCOM as bullets pinged off the reinforced windows.

"We're about five mikes away from the building. We spotted a local police station on our way that we could use as a defendable position."

"Copy, that'll be our fallback point. Bring it up to Overwatch so they can redirect the 127th Shock Troopers to meet us there and set up."

"Good—"

Whatever Joshua was going to say was drowned out as a pickup truck smashed its way through the wall, killing several civilians underneath its tires as it crashed into one of the corner offices, the occupants inside dazed. Blue Team already had their weapons up as a few rioters made their way into the newly created hole, weapons in hand as they gunned or beat down whoever crossed their sight.

"Weapons free!"

Another phrase for 'kill' Violet had quickly taken to during their time together in the Atlas' indoor range, as she pulled the trigger of her M7 SMG right after the order left his lips. The bullet soared and hit a rioter, a young man who couldn't be older than seventeen, square in the head as his brain matter and bits of bone splattered against his fellow behind him. One dead rioter quickly became five, then nine, then fourteen as the Spartans and her continued to fire in perfect cohesion.

The rioters soon wizened up as they witnessed more of their compatriots die, hiding beyond the hole in the wall, too afraid to come through. Violet took that moment to place her crosshairs toward the recovering rioters inside the truck, pulling the trigger in quick succession and taking the lives of the two women and men inside.

"Move it! Diamond formation around the Senator!" John barked as the team quickly formed around the panicking Senator and his staff—along with Kelly, who still carried Miranda over her shoulders. They moved up, ushering the surviving civilians to get out the way as at least two of them kept their weapons aimed toward the hole in the wall. A few curious rioters who quickly stuck their heads out found themselves slumped over, dead, the bullet hole in the center of their forehead leaking blood.

They made it over to the end of the office area to the door that led to the maintenance hall. John quickly placed the keycard against the reader next to it, unlocking the door and letting Kelly go in first with the civilians as the rest of them watched their backs.

Right after, several Insurrectionist soldiers came through the hole, prefiring their MA37 assault rifles as they did in their direction. The Spartans and Violet returned fire, taking them out, but more poured through the hole regardless. The rioters, emboldened by the Insurrectionist's actions, joined in as well, grabbing the weapons off of their dead comrades and firing at them.

A bullet struck John on his breastplate and another on Fred's thigh, the projectile simply crushing against the armor and falling uselessly on the floor.

Though, for John, it proved that the hallway was becoming too swarmed and heavy for them to fight their enemies effectively. Their armor was tough but not invincible. He quickly passed the door into the maintenance hallway, slapping a fresh magazine into his weapon before holding down the trigger to provide covering fire.

"Let's move!"

Violet was the first to move, her little mouth giving small puffs as she slapped a fresh magazine into her SMG, spinning around as soon as she was by him and laying down her own fire. Fred came through next. Will slammed a fist against the reader as he did, triggering the door's emergency lock as it slid shut after him.

John took point once more down the maintenance hall, giving Violet a firm pat on the back as he did. "With me, form back up."

The group hurried through the hallway and went through another door that brought them to a stairwell meant for emergencies leading to the underground garage.

"Gold Lead, the interior has been breached. We're nearly to the garage. What is your ETA?"

"We just arrived at the wall perimeter. Gold-3 currently is setting up some breaches that can blow a hole through it, but it might take a minute."

"And I'm telling you," Grace's voice cut into the TEAMCOM. "This isn't a job you want to rush… unless you want to see how strong these suits really are."

"Uh…."

"Copy that, Gold-3,"John said as they entered the parking garage. "We'll take a minute, make sure everyone is alright before we exit out."

"Roger that, Chief. A minute is all I need."

John bit back a small grin at Grace's words, grateful that he had decided to bring her along for the mission for her unique explosive skillset.

Significantly few people could shape a charge to cut into a single steel bolt with only a tiny whisper of sound or rig a thousand liters of kerosene to create an explosion likened to a firestorm from hell like she could.

"We'll take a small breather here, check ammo. See that you don't have any wounds before we head out." He told the panting and sweating civilians before looking at Violet and noticing that she seemed relatively well aside from a small flush from exertion on her face.

He frowned as he saw that all the movement had shaken her low ponytail from its tie, causing it to pool past her shoulders toward her back. He needed to fix that before it became a possible hazard.

"Take off your helmet," John told her. She swiftly did so, her lenses reflecting his figure as she looked up at him.

"Goggles too."

He quickly went to work once she removed it, bending to one knee and removing the loose hair tie from her messy locks. His fingers deftly brushed through her hair several times before grabbing a clump and making a messed half bun-half ponytail combination as he finished it off with the hair tie, winding the elastic around a few times for extra security.

Not his best work, but it would do its job of holding her hair. Not to mention, it looked alright—if he tilted his head a bit.

"There. Hm?"

John frowned as he noticed a splotch of blood on the side of her midsection now that they were close, a hole puncturing the uniform, dying the area in red. He pressed a finger against it and Violet tensed, looking down at the offending appendage with furrowed brows.

"When did you get hit?"

"I'm—I do not—know, Chief."

"Kelly, biofoam." He caught the canister that was tossed his way, widening the hole in Violet's fatigues a bit to press the nozzle against the wound to fill it with the coagulant. Her hand shot down but stopped before she could touch the canister, hovering tensely instead. It twitched as she adjusted to the feeling of biofoam inside her. "…It probably happened in the hallway."

"Your Violet does not—know. Your Violet—is fine."

"Maybe. But I know I told you to use your head when in a fight." He gave her forehead a hard tap. She flinched back a bit. "Think. You have good reflexes, but it doesn't mean anything if you're dead."

"It is—okay. Your Violet heals—q-qui…quiiii… fast."

This girl.

"That doesn't make it—"

"Excuse me." John paused when he was cut off, turning to see one of Senator Franco's staff approach them, an indignant look on her face as her eyes flickered between him and Violet. "But why did you bring a little girl with you?! I thought that maybe she was just small for her age, but you really brought a kid! What the hell is wrong with you!? She's just a child!"

"Oh, boy," Fred muttered before taking a step toward the woman. "Ma'am, listen—"

"That's classified." John deadpanned, doing his best to hide his growing agitation. Handing Violet her goggles and helmet as he stood to his full height, he loomed over the woman. "Drop it."

"S-Samantha!" Senator Franco snapped out, a nervous look on his face. "Don't provoke them! They're trying to save us!"

"And that means it's okay for the UNSC to use a goddamn child soldier?!" Despite her bark, she took a few wary steps away from John. "Just what else is the UNSC even doing that the colonies aren't aware of? They're even trying to save you! After everything you've done—!"

"That's enough, Samantha!" Franco snarled, his face red with rage.

The Spartans shared a glance, as aside from the irony they were being faced with, something else bothered them.

What did she mean by that?

"No! The Inner Colonies deserve to know the truth! About what you did! About this kid!"

"Listen," Kelly was annoyed, her accent thickening as she got up from her position by Miranda's side. She jabbed a finger at Samantha. "You want to get left behind? I'm sure the Innies outside would love whatever 'truth' you want to preach. If not, then nut up and shut up."

"That-I-you—!"

"That's enough." John wasn't sure what the deal was between the staffer and politician. If there was more to the Senator than what was told to him, then it might explain why the state of Sylca degenerated so severely within a short amount of time. Simply speaking out against terrorists wouldn't invoke this type of response.

Similarly, he also didn't have time to waste, as there was still plenty of hostiles gunning for their lives. "This isn't the time or place. Let us do our jobs and get you out of here. Then, you can talk to our CO if you feel the need to."

Whatever the woman said next was cut off as the TEAMCOM crackled to life. "Blue Lead, this is Gold Lead. Set to breach."

"Copy that. Moving out of the parking garage to meet you. Watch your sectors."

"Rog. Breach, breach, breach."

A resounding boom followed one that left a vibration through John's chest as he approached the garage's closed security gate. He tried to tap the keycard he had against the reader by the security booth, but it flashed red in denial. He signaled towards Fred to get the other end of the gate and for Will to post for cover.

Together, John and Fred forced their armored fingers through the sealed opening of the gate, their augmented digits bending the reinforced metal like butter. Muscles bulging, teeth grit, they moved the doors to part, confused shouting and smoke billowing inside the garage as they did.

"Hostiles," Will's MA5C popped out five single rounds in quick succession, and the shouting was cut off as multiple thuds sounded. "Clear."

Deciding that they had made a wide enough opening, they stopped and funneled their way through. There were a few more rioters on the outside, but they were sparse compared to those going through the front. They were quickly dispatched with a few well-placed bullets.

"Behind you."

John spun around, only to see Gold Team making their way to him. "You took your time."

"The traffic was ridiculous," Cal replied as they came together.

"I bet. Ready to head to the station?"

"Yeah, we'll have to double back a bit. The hole we blew was a bit off the mark." Joshua said a thumb pointed toward his six.

"That's fine. Take point. We'll guard the civilians."

"Rog. The police station isn't too far. Just about three blocks down, across the street."

As they approached the giant hole that was blown through a meter-thick wall of steel, four Insurrectionist soldiers wearing combat armor came through, looking about curiously. The soldier who glanced at them fell to the ground when he was shot in the neck as Gold Team advanced. Cal aimed down her BR55 and sent a quick burst that tore open another terrorist's chest.

"Oh shit, UNSC!" The other two, realizing what was happening, began to blindly fire in their direction as they went to seek cover.

A stray bullet or two pinged off Daisy's and Grace's armor, but they quickly rushed towards their cover when they paused to reload. Daisy's fist came down on one Innie's helmeted head, caving in the entire thing with a single blow and killing him as his eyes bulged out of his sockets from the pressure. Grace simply went around the others cover and placed a long burst through their midsection with her MA5C, cutting off his surprised shout as he crumpled to the floor.

Joshua signaled them to take point through the hole as Blue Team followed behind him. Grace and Daisy checked left and right before going through and pulling security on each side of the road, their HUD lights winking green once.

"Quick, through the alley, across the street."

They jogged to the alley, Grace and Daisy pulling rearguard after they passed. The farther they got from city hall, the more distant the screams, shouts, and gunfire followed them. Multiple chain gates were simply broken apart, no doubt done by Gold Team on their way to the city hall. They had to hop a few walls out of necessity, but they were met with little to no oppression.

"Nearly there," Joshua said out loud for the wary civilian's benefit as they came near the exit of the alley. "Just a left here and—"

He paused; likewise, so did the kid and teen monitoring the block a few meters down the road.

Joshua eyed them cautiously as he waved his hand to shoo them off. "Get out of—" He saw the youngest—who couldn't be more than nine years old—deeply inhale. "Don't you dare—"

"UNSC!" The child screamed at the top of his lungs. The teen—who looked no older than fourteen—reached toward his waistband, fumbling with the M6A he had stashed there.

"Stop!" Joshua snapped, dashing to the kid before he could make a mistake, one he wouldn't live to see the end of. "Drop it!"

The teen finally got his fingers wrapped adequately around the weapon, pulling it out and aiming it at rapidly approaching Spartan, a scream on his tongue meant for his smaller compatriot. "RUN!"

He pulled the trigger, and the muzzle flashed. The bullet whizzed past Joshua's head.

Another gunshot, the teen's head rocked back in a bloody red mist. His body crumpled unceremoniously to the floor, his gawking face frozen.

The smoking barrel of Cal's MA5C then turned toward the child as he dove for the dropped weapon. A heart-wrenching scream tore itself out of the child's throat.

Joshua was already upon him by then, crushing magnum with a stomp and sliding it back toward the group as he caught the kid and threw him back onto the pavement. "Get the hell out of here!"

The kid flinched back from Joshua's snarl, scrambling to his feet and running in the opposite direction, screaming 'UNSC' the entire time as he did.

"We've been compromised." John intoned grimly. "We have to move to the station."

"Should've taken the shot," Kelly growled. John turned his faceplate toward her. She held his stare for a moment before looked away and dipped her chin, her bravado vanishing.

John knew, had the kid actually grabbed the gun and turned it on them, one of them would have done it regardless of their personal feelings. That was something no one on the team, no matter how much they mentally prepared themselves, honestly wanted to do.

He glanced down to Violet, who didn't even spare the dead teen—child really—another look. Instead, her head stayed on a swivel, scanning the road. She paused, most likely feeling his stare, and looked up at him.

I hope she couldn't be able to do it.

John faced away. The police station was nearby; he could see it from his position. "Let's move."

Joshua got up from his crouch by the young teen's body with a sigh. "Yeah, let's."

They ignored how the civilians whispered to one another in both horror and shock when they passed the body as they resumed their trek toward the building.

The front door was locked, and they gave it a couple of hard knocks to get someone's attention. When that failed, Daisy kicked in the door, busting it off its hinges.

The fully armored officers propped against the front desk met them, MA45 shotguns and M7 SMGs pointed at the group. "Stand down, or we will open…!" One of them trailed off when they saw the seven-foot green armored soldiers; a Senator attached to their side. "W-Wha…? You guys UNSC?"

"Yes. We're extracting Senator Franco and need to use this building for evac." John turned his head left and right when he noticed no one else coming to assist the four officers. "Are there any more of you?"

"N-No. The rest are dealing with riots out there right now or the looters taking advantage of the situation. It's just the dispatchers and us here. Even the Commissioner went out." Said a police officer with a sergeant rank stitched onto his uniform's shoulder.

"We've been compromised on the way here. Hostiles are likely on the way."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Another one cried out in horror. "You mean those guys that stormed city hall are following you here?! Why the hell did you do that?!"

"It's one of the few defendable positions in the city right now. We have backup on the way."

"Oh yeah? How long are they gonna take? So far, it's been the Colonial Guard and us holding the frontlines since this place went tits up!"

John changed frequencies, muting his voicemitter. "Overwatch, this is Blue Lead. We're at the fallback point. ETA on the Shock Troops from the 127th?"

"Blue Lead, their ETA is around ten mikes. They experienced heavy fire on the way. They're leaking fluids and will not be able to extract your team and the Senator. We're on the comms right now with the Laviosa Colonial Guard and Sylca Police Department to see if they can spare any Pelicans. I repeat we cannot spare any more air support until further notice. You'll have to hold on until we can procure extraction."

Well, that was just perfect. "Roger that, Overwatch. Can you patch me to the PL?"

"Affirmative, Blue Lead. Hold one."

A crackle, then a pause before the comm went live once more. A feminine, thickly accented Australian voice spoke. "Blue Lead, this is Hammer Actual. Send traffic."

"What's the status of your bird, Hammer Actual?" John wanted to hear this for himself.

"Not good. An engine's been clipped, and the fuel and hydraulic lines been hit. We're bleeding steady in the air. It's a one-way trip here, but my platoon is set with mortars and extra ammunition. The fallback point is at the Police Station, confirmed?"

"Roger."

"Then we're less than five mikes away. The pilots are having a hard time telling what's what when over half the buildings are on fire."

"See you then." He reactivated his voicemitter as he focused on the police officers. "They'll be here in less than five. We'll need blueprints of the building and roof access."

He had to dig his heels as deep as possible for when the rebels finally showed. All he could really do then was hurry up and wait.

---

John waited a lot longer than he initially thought he would.

The ODST's of the 127th around him stayed at their positions on the rooftop, pulling security as they scanned the roads. In the middle of the rooftop were where two handheld 60mm mortars had been set up, their mortar squads quietly waiting with a box full of artillery shells next to them.

Two of the policemen stayed behind when they gave them a chance, deciding to stay back and defend their station on the second floor to protect the Senator and his people, regardless of how they explained the situation to them. The other officers and dispatchers had long since evacuated, not wanting to get caught up with their fight for the target of the current uprising.

A few minutes later, the Pelican carrying the Shock Troopers touched down and had quickly set up a defendable position. Instead of keeping the Pelican on the roof, knowing that the damage done to it and the lack of fuel would make it all but useless, they positioned it on the side of the road closest to city hall, where most of the incoming forces were would likely be coming from. The police station was placed at the block's end by a three-way intersection that led to an open field of what seemed to be a park. So, they had rigged the Pelican, and two cars parked on the road next to it with a bit of C4 Grace had in handy.

Once the enemy force would come, all they would have to do is trigger those explosives, cutting them off from their primary access point for foot mobiles and any vehicles they might try to use. All the rebels and Insurrectionists had then was to either come from the nearby alleyways or through the other end of the road. They would give them the ability to defend the majority of the enemy forces through two main chokepoints instead of three.

The thing was, forty-five minutes after they had finished their preparations, no one had come. They could still hear gunfire and explosions in the distance, but no one had come down either side of the roads since they had to deal with the kids acting as lookouts.

It was beginning to make John restless more than he was okay with. He knew the enemy was still rampaging throughout the city; he could hear it after all, but with all the minutes passing and not seeing a single hostile after the attack on city hall left John with too much time to think.

And none of the conclusions he was coming to left him comfortable.

"Chief," He almost felt relief when Hammer Actual—his IFF identifying her as 1LT C. Dubbo—approached him, distracting him from his inner thoughts. Her blue visor was depolarized, revealing a fair-skinned woman with full cheeks and youthful brown eyes, strands of dirty blonde hair peeking through the area above her eyes.

"Just got off the horn with Overwatch. The spook says that the Colonial Guard bases in Sylca have been overrun with Insurrectionists from a coup inside them, so they've acquired some intense firepower. Satellite scans from the Atlas haven't shown any heavy forces heading our way, but the power grid in some parts of the city has been taken out. Overwatch was able to get with another Colonial Guard base a few providences over, and we have air transport on the way in about forty mikes. SPD is also sparing a Patrol Pelican for us that'll be here in twenty-five mikes since they have to refuel."

John took a moment to process the information, turning his head for a quick moment to scan the streets and buildings around them quickly. "Roger that, Lieutenant. If we don't get contact within the next twenty minutes, have your platoon break down their equipment and get ready for evac. You'll be on the first transport out of here with the Senator."

They could provide cover for their extraction and get the next Pelican out.

She looked at him like he just grew another head. "You sure? We can—"

The power around them went out, the streetlights and buildings becoming dark. The only lighting source to prevent it from becoming pitch black was the nearby fires and burning buildings.

It seems like he spoke too soon.

"Hammer and Blue Leads, thermals are showing foot mobiles headed your direction. Seems like they commandeered several vehicles from the base. Get ready. There may be Colonial Guard defectors in the enemy ranks."

John spoke grimly, eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness around him. "Get ready, Lieutenant."

"Ma'am," One of the ODST said in a hushed voice, his helmet facing the lower half of the buildings across from them. "I think I've got movement at the alleyways and across the field."

"Fuck me dead," Dubbo cursed as her visor polarized to its blue hue as she spoke in her comm. "Get those illumination rounds ready, mortar team-two. The whole city is about to hit us soon."

John wished Linda was here, providing a bird's eye view of the area. She and her falcon had to peel off about twenty minutes ago to refuel the aircraft at the SPD HQ.

"Fuck, they doing anything?" Another ODST asked.

"Nah, man. They just keep dodging into alleys and shit." The first one—LCPL A. A. Ramirez— replied.

"Do we open fire?"

"Don't be a dumbass. You won't be able to hit shit in this darkness. The muzzle flash would give away our position."

Everyone stood in complete silence for a few moments. They could hear the movement from the unknowns. Occasionally, they would hit or trip over something, eliciting a loud bang as they would scramble to their feet.

"Looks like they're probing us."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Fuck, can't see shit through this night." Another added.

"Movement, by the Pelican."

"What? Where?"

"…Disregard. My bad, must've been the wind."

"Put a sock in it." Dubbo snapped. "Another word from anyone, and you'll be going out there to confirm."

"'Rah, ma'am."

John narrowed his eyes, realizing that the ones running around were rioters, while the ones slowly creeping through the field were wearing Colonial Guard uniforms.

What were they doing here?

He then noticed the red bands tied around their arms. Remembering what Dubbo said about the coup at their base, John aimed his MA5C at one, his finger caressing the trigger.

Everyone sat there for a couple more heartbeats in silence. Ramirez stood a little higher from his crouch to get a better view.

John noticed how Violet tensed.

"…You see anyth—?"

John fired half a second after the soldier did.

The Lance Corporal's head snapped to the side before he collapsed to the ground. Rounds from MA37's and machine guns popped and boomed, exploding concrete and sending dust everywhere.

John placed his reticle on another soldier fired another burst, his Spartans assisting in returning fire as the ODST's around them exploded into activity.

"FUCK! RAMIREZ!"

"Get a bloody illumination round in the air!" Dubbo barked.

Violet had joined in too, but anyone could tell that she couldn't see the enemy as well as the Spartan's could, simply aiming towards the muzzle flashes she saw and firing as the mortar spat out the round high into the air. Once the round reached its peak, it burst into a bright light, exposing the twenty-plus rouge Colonial Guard soldiers firing at them from cover.

"Fuck! Why the hell are they shooting at us?!"

"Didn't you hear? There was talk that a bunch of soldiers defected to the rebel's side! These guys must be part of it!"

"Less talking, more firing!"

"Ramirez! You good man?!"

"Y-Yeah, head's ringing like a fucking bell. B-Barely nicked my h-helmet." Ramirez weakly replied as he worked his way back to a low crouch, pressing a hand against the wall to steady himself. A large crack formed across his visor from the impact from the side of his head. "Fucking shit, man."

"Get those stars out of your head and get the lead out, Helljumper!" Another ODST—SSG W. Moore— hoarsely barked as he fired his MA5C. "Salo! Get a fix on their position and start hitting them with indirect fire!"

"Oorah, Sergeant!"

A dull whump entered John's ears as the mortar shot out the shell it was fed. It landed, exploding some nearby vehicles parked to one side of the field. Too far away from the soldiers on the ground. He could hear them begin shouting to one another, an almost frantic energy filling them as some of them spread out further than before.

A round whizzed by John's head, causing him to blink and notice the soldier that dropped his assault rifle to his hip, his hand leaving the rifle's grip to hold the lower barrel with two instead.

John's eyes widened a bit before he aimed at the soldier and fired off a few shots.

The soldier grimaced as his chest and neck exploded into red mist, but that didn't stop him as a dull thump came from the M301 grenade launcher undermount of his MA37. The 40mm HE round whistled as it flew in the air toward their direction before impacting the side of the police station.

BOOM! It thundered, shaking the building and throwing up debris and dust.

John braced his body, his hands almost reaching for Violet as she almost lost her footing. He held back when she quickly rightened herself, ignored the dust likely biting her lungs and eyes, and slapped a fresh magazine into her M7 SMG before resuming fire.

He missed when Kelly's faceplate faced him for a moment before refocusing on the battle.

A bit of cold sweat fell into John's eyes, causing him to blink from the sting. Focusing his mind back on the game, he checked the ammo counter on his rifle.

—05. It read.

Paying no heed to the bullets that buzzed near his ears, he huffed and decided to hit the mag release and slap a fresh one in.

Eight magazines left.

He began to scan the field once more. People wearing civilian attire had joined the soldiers, firing at their position with a noticeable lack of discipline and accuracy untrained combatants had.

He raised his rifle and shot a jersey-wearing man who held a lit Molotov cocktail in his hand. The man slumped over, dropping the petrol bomb and causing it to burst against his two other compatriots that had been behind cover with him.

John ignored their screams as another whump escaped the mortar, hitting a parked vehicle on one side of the road where several rioters had taken cover taking potshots with sidearms from. He saw a limb or two fly out of the blast radius as a few of the ODST whooped at the successful hit.

"Nice one, y'all!"

"Oorah!"

"These guys are a chuffed bunch," Kelly dryly muttered as she shot another soldier.

Another whoosh of air, a whistle, before the artillery shell hit another group of rebels.

Realizing that their coordinates were compromised with indirect fire, the surviving turncoat soldiers began barking orders to retreat to the remaining rioters. The rioters fled, trying to get out of the line of fire immediately, leaving themselves exposed for the UNSC forces to pick them off. The soldier's retreat was more disciplined, leapfrogging their way to nearby allies as others provided covering fire. Still, some of the more unlucky or slower ones were picked off by a well-placed shot by Violet or the Spartans.

"Whoooweee~!" The ODST— CPL. J. Mitchell— hollered as he slapped a knee, his accent faintly reminding John of the one Linda used to have as a child. "That whole thing made me happier than a possum in a turned-over trash can! Who knew we'd get so much action savin' a snake?"

"Everyone alright?" Dubbo barked as she reloaded her weapon. "Sound off!"

"Oorah!"

"'Rah, ma'am!"

"Good!"

"Someone's up high's looking after you, Ramirez! How's the noggin?"

"It's alright. Just a little dizzy is all."

"You need the medic to check you out, son?"

"Nah, Sergeant. I can still fight."

"Chief," John faced Dubbo as she crouched next to him. "SPD bird is close by, but it can't land. Two SAM batteries are emplaced East and North of our position about a kilometer out. Overwatch also confirmed another wave of foot-mobiles coming in fast along with Insurgency technicals and military vehicles. My platoon can break off in squads and deal with them while your team continues to secure this AO until—"

"Negative, ma'am," John cut in. "We've got the SAM batteries. Your platoon will exfil with the Senator on the Pelican like we first discussed."

The Spartans would be able to deal with the threats faster and more efficiently than the ODST's. John didn't mean any disrespect, of course; it was just that they were much better suited and used to the odds stacked against them. While he fully believed the ODST's could do it, casualties amongst the ranks would be sure.

"…Listen, mate." Dubbo began lowly, her visor depolarizing, exposing her stern visage. "I've heard about you guys, the rumors at least. What you've done while under the spooks, what you still do." Her brown eyes glared at him, and he could've sworn she was making eye contact. "But if you're underestimating us, just 'cause we don't have the same armor you have, then we're about to have a damn problem."

John tilted his head and held a sigh.

ODST's and their pride.

"I do not doubt your platoon's capabilities, ma'am." He replied, deadpan. He was in no mood to play games, but he knew what he had to do to settle her. "It's that, between our two units, yours is more capable of defending this position than mine is. You have the numbers and the skills, ma'am. My outfit is small and best when used offensively. We don't have much experience when it comes to defense."

That, of course, was a lie, one that John was not proud of doing, but one that was necessary when dealing with the ego of others. Spartans had been trained in every military tactic and strategy that could be used in this day and age, be it offensive, defensive, or deceptive.

Spartans excelled in small unit tactics as small strike teams, beyond what was taught to even the other units of the NAVSPECWARCOM (Naval Special Warfare Command). Spartans were even able to fight tactically as a single man force if needed to while deep behind enemy lines.

Simply put, Spartans were the best of the best. More so when compared to their ODST counterparts, especially ever since John's infamous post-augmentation incident in the Atlas' gym that ended with him killing three of the Shock Troopers and leaving one crippled for life. Despite ONI's best efforts, the word still spread about it, and a one-sided resentment was formed between the two outfits.

It was a stigma that all Spartans would have to bear and one that John never truly forgave himself for causing.

Unfortunately, due to their nature of being made to be better than the rest, it made it harder for them to work with the more conventional forces of the UNSC. Special Forces or not, the miscommunication that often occurred between Spartans and other military outfits was all too common.

So, the last thing John was expecting was for Dubbo's eyes to slightly soften as she shook her head with a sigh. "We're a team for this mission. We have to trust and protect each other above all else in the field. Nothing else matters, but be careful out there, alright?"

After a slight pause, he gave a small tilt of his head. "…Of course, ma'am."

That wasn't the reply he was expecting, but he found himself much preferring it.

"Good luck."

The helmet hid the quirk of his lips. "We make our own luck, ma'am."

She eyed him as he signaled his Spartans to follow, Violet shadowing him, making their way to their next objective. "…Cheeky bastard."

---

Violet had never fought so many people in such a big area. It almost overwhelmed her with the sheer number of enemies she had to kill, but as she ran out of ammo and pulled an MA37 from the dead fingers of one of the bodies on the floor, she couldn't help but appreciate the Spartans fighting ability.

They were fierce and fought with a hint of brutality when it came to their enemies. They used strategies her mind had a hard time wrapping around at first, but she quickly understood as she helped execute them. She was like a sponge when it came to understanding their martial prowess.

The Chief had taught her much in the few months since she became his. Even so, she had struggled with the more intricate lessons as there were so many of the basics he had to teach her for her to understand. Out here, on the battlefield, she learned and understood more than she could've ever expected fighting by their side. She was almost felt grateful for it, in fact.

Since all she learned would help her better protect the Chief, whom she acknowledged as her owner.

"Down!" She heard him bark behind her.

Violet hit the ground, dust kicking up towards her face as the rocks under her dug into her body. All that was quickly canceled out as a rocket screamed above about a foot from her original position, exploding close enough that she lost her breath for a moment from the force of it pressing her against the wall she was taking cover behind of.

A hand grabbed the back of her armor plating, her goggles protecting her eyes from the debris falling around her as she was lifted to her feet. She jerked back a second before wall in front of her exploded in a puff of dust, the round whining away as it ricocheted.

The enemy had brought large vehicles with big, barreled weapons attached to the back. Some span before roaring out high velocity bullets at them, others simply carried multiple missiles that were fired at them at an alarming rate of fire.

The group called 'Gold Team' was sent to one of these 'SAM batteries' to the east, while her group called 'Blue' went to the one in the North. Well, fought their way to the North one was a better way to say it.

The people with the mismatch clothing that were easy to kill slowly stopped coming as they advanced further into the city, only the ones in brown armor, tan uniforms, and red armbands coming to try and kill them. These were harder to kill for Violet, as they used maneuvers that made it harder for her bullets to reach them. There were also a lot more than she could've handled had she been by herself.

Her weapon clicked empty, and she went to reload it. By the time the charging handle fed a new round into the chamber, the enemy had raised her rifle in Violet's direction.

The enemy's visor exploded in blood as she fired, the bullet whizzing by Violet's head as she immediately aimed and shot the enemy next to the corpse with white and red markings on his armor. The man let out a scream as Violet's bullet blew open his knee, falling by the dead woman's side as he held the wound.

She heard the tall green woman with the bubble helmet Chief called 'Kelly' huff in amusement at her action, the muzzle of her weapon still smoking after saving Violet's life.

Violet went to finish him off before pausing, remembering one of the lessons the Chief had taught her when he had gotten bored of teaching her new words.

That is, leaving a wounded enemy alive could be used well as something called 'bait.' It could be used to bring forth more enemies into what was called a 'killing field.'

The Chief's face had been blank when he told her this, distantly mumbling to her a story of his 'instructors' doing the same to his 'fellow trainee's when they caught one in an attempt to draw the rest of them out.

Violet didn't understand his other words, but as she watched a group of enemies shooting and moving toward their fallen and leaving themselves exposed to her crosshairs, she found the tactic to be a sound one as she dropped one after the other. It was a good one, one that took advantage of their enemies' empathy.

For good measure, she even wounded a few extra ones when she could, killing those who came to retrieve their screaming comrades.

"Merciless one, aren't you?" The mirth in Kelly's voice was gone, but she didn't stop firing from her position as she killed the missile gunner on the 'Warthog.'

Violet pulled the enemy's dead body that laid next to her closer, tearing open their ammunition pouches, removing the full magazines, and putting them into her own. "We have—to keep moving… more vehicles—are coming."

"She's right." 'Fred' added, before cursing as his cover was chewed apart by the machine gunner firing from his position inside a window of a building. "We're dead if we don't keep up the pressure!"

"We'll be fine." The Chief's voice was firm as he shot the rocket launcher he had acquired—the Jackhammer as she remembered it amongst the other names—into the window of the building. The explosion engulfed their enemy, cutting off his short scream.

The launcher was dropped, spent, as he switched to his primary weapon. "The Northside SAM batteries are a few more blocks down. We'll push through the middle."

"Simple. I like it." 'Will' quipped as he hopped from his cover onto one of the ruined vehicles. He reached over and grabbed the heavy machine gun that had been emplaced next to it, wielding it like a rifle as he shouldered it. "We've got plenty of ordinance to work with too."

"Grab what you can. Keep it short. We move in a mike."

As the Spartans rummaged through the dead bodies, Violet walked up to one of the remaining wounded that had survived the battle. The man's thigh was bleeding, spurting blood every other moment, filling the puddle growing from underneath his body. He was wheezing for air, blood gurgling from his lips as he held a hand up, one that was blown open and barely held together by the exposed ligaments.

His terrified brown eyes looked at her as he noticed her, and they stared at each other for a moment.

"W-Waaaaai—!"

He let out a choked scream as Violet dragged her knife across his throat, the blade going deep enough to nearly decapitate him. Blood gushed from his throat like a leaky faucet as the man gurgled desperately, his body spasming for several moments before seizing.

She then moved to the next one and did the same to her. And the next one. And the next one.

As she killed the last surviving enemy she could find, Violet felt a stare against her back and turned.

Blue eyes met a gold faceplate.

"Why did you do that?"

She tilted her head in curiosity.

"Was that—not what you taught your Violet—to do, Chief?"

His head jerked a bit as if struck before turning away from her.

Was he…okay?

Violet had only done what she did because the Chief had drilled into her the importance of being efficient in her ammunition. Thus, the knife came out to reserve her supplies.

In any case, as long as he kept her by his side, she would do anything in her power to protect him and follow his orders.

"Let's move."

It was her only purpose in life, after all.

"Yes."

---

"Hammer Actual, this is Blue-1. SAM batteries in sight, moving to dispatch." John commed as he slammed his back against the wall, the sniper shot buzzing by his head.

Violet let out a burst of her rifle as soon as the second shot was released against his cover, and a third shot never came.

"Roger that, Chief!" Dubbo's voice crackled through, the sound of gunfire and explosions filtering through. "We'll really appreciate it if you took care of it sometime soon! The whole city is fighting us now! And—Ramirez! Warthog incoming! Detonate that Pelican NOW!"

The comm fizzed for a moment as he heard an explosion, and John quickly dispatched two more rogue CG soldiers with well-placed bursts.

A grenade went off a few meters next to him, and John grunted as he wobbled and slammed against a wall to right himself. Bullets burst against his cover and sent pieces of concrete pinging against his helmet.

"If you could hurry it up a bit, mate, it would be very much appreciated!"

"Roger, that. Hang in there, ma'am."

From his line of sight, the two M9 MAAT's—Wolverine's—remained stationary, their dual M260 rockets pods pointed upwards. To his internal relief, even the two mounted XM511 grenade launchers were idle, pointed forward in a neutral direction.

John pulled his head back as the concrete in front of him exploded. The enemy, the growing number of Insurrectionist soldiers mixed with the rouge CG ones based on the red color scheme, were attempting to flank their left while the majority provided heavy cover fire from the front.

John signaled for Will and Kelly to take care of the ones flanking them, while Fred and Violet would deal with the ones providing covering fire.

He reached down and gripped a fragmentation grenade from his waist pack. All they needed to do was destroy the seemingly unmanned Wolverines, and Lieutenant Dubbo's team would be clear for extraction. There was no need to draw this fight out with how outnumbered they were.

The red blips on his radar vanished one by one as his team opened fire on their respective targets. Once the enemy fire began to die off, John left his cover, reared his arm back, and chucked the grenade. A second followed suit, landing next to the anti-aircraft tank.

The subsequent explosions engulfed it, leaving it as a charred heap of twisted metal before its ordinance went off as well. Anyone who had been next to it was quickly blown apart.

As John reached for another grenade, the remaining Wolverine—slightly damaged from the explosions, turned its turret in his direction.

Aw, no.

It seems like they were manned after all.

He quickly reared back his arm, preparing to throw the grenade before they could hit them with indirect fire.

Four red blips appeared on his radar, behind him on his right.

Wha—?

The slight whine that he heard behind him caused his eyes to widen before he jumped over his cover, shouting. "MOVE!"

The ones closest to him, Fred and Violet, jumped after him without a word. Just in time, too, as their cover was engulfed by napalm-induced flames.

They hit the ground further below just as the two Insurrectionist Hellbringers teams that had flanked them turned their M6634 flamethrowers to Will and Kelly's position, who had finally noticed them. They could barely dodge the flames sent their way, and the Hellbringers separated, each team gunning after their respective prey.

John and his team were pushed back further from their initial landing in a slight ditch, doing their best not to allow the flames to touch them.

When they got into cover, John realized that the Hellbringers never moved from their original position to follow them.

The Wolverine had finished turning in their direction, and its dual grenade launchers began to fire.

Fred was quick to react, throwing himself as hard as he could at a building next to them, blowing apart the brick wall with his frame. John shoved Violet after him as another wave of flames engulfed their position before the grenades obliterated everything.

"Chief!" She cried out as he jumped in after them.

John grimaced when he felt the flames scorch his armored back as the force of the explosion sent his body flying. His vision swam, and the breath was knocked out of his lungs when he hit the ground. Feeling the flames start to breach and melt his tech suit against his skin, John instinctively began to roll on the floor to put them out. He had to gnash his teeth together to hold back the scream that settled itself in his throat, wanting to tear out.

"Don't touch him!" He heard Fred snap before he felt small digits smack his back frantically. "Damnit! Just wait!"

"Ngh!" Violet grimaced as her gloved hands were smeared with the residue, and Fred reached to quickly tear the lined cloth off, revealing a spot or two of second-degree burns on her palms. Some of it even got on her forearm armor, so he quickly pulled out his knife and cut off the straps and sleeves to keep it from seeping through.

Fred had to grab Violet as she once more reached to help John. A grimace pulled on his face as she began to struggle, punching and kicking his armored limbs. "Just stop! It'll fade after a few seconds!"

Conventional napalm only burned for fifteen to thirty seconds and would be unable to breach the MJOLNIR armor in that time. As much as Fred hated to think about it, John would have to grit his teeth against the pain until it smoldered away.

Unfortunately, Violet didn't quite like this, if she even understood how it worked. "Let—me go! Chief!"

She bucked against Fred, hard, her stoic face crumbling down to one of desperation. He was taken aback by the force behind it and almost lost his grip on her. "Knock it off, damnit!"

Another thump reached their ears as the Wolverine shot out more grenades, and the building began to explode around them. To make matters even worse, a window further inside the building was broken by the Hellbringers, and a small whistle sounded before napalm was shot inside, burning the interior.

"We've got to move!" Fred looked to John, who was slowly getting up, his back charred and smoking. "You good?"

"Go," John rasped as he saw Violet begin to have a hard time breathing as the fire swiftly sucked out the oxygen in the room. "I'm right behind you."

Fred nodded before he ran to the other side of the building, chucking Violet through the window before jumping outside himself.

He turned around just as the fires exploded from the window after him, the building collapsing.

"Chief!" Violet wheezed, hand outstretched as she watched John get buried underneath the rubble. "CHIEF!"

---

A/N:

Had to break the chapter in two parts since this was getting way too long.

This is my first 'Action Scene,' so please be gentle but don't be afraid to add in some constructive criticism on where I can improve

As some people were wondering, yeah, the Covenant hasn't attacked Humanity at this point. That's primarily due to how machine-like the war forced John to become to protect Humanity. I'm still figuring when to place it.

So, for the most part, the war against the Insurrectionists will be the secondary focus of the story, the primary one being John's and Violet's relationship during it all and the aftermath.

However, I also wanted to add some love to the Spartan-II's who originally got little to no screen time. Look forward to that.

Also, fluff and war gore and horror, can't forget that, of course.

Lol.

Till next time