Darkness was all she knew, and the bells in her ears faded to little more than a chiming in the distance, before something started to happen. The world began to grow around her, starting at feet she could only now see.
Morgan watched her feet as they came into existence, still the heavy boots of her Mjolnir, but dusty and covered in grime from the hectic fighting that had taken place on the way to the tower. Green grass hit by the light of a sun shined up at her, spreading out forever, until everything fell into place.
A horizon line formed, half a dozen prefab style houses forming from nothing, before a blue backdrop became the sky, not a single cloud in sight. The sun was a golden ball of flame, bringing light to this painted world that she had been brought to.
She felt nothing, looking down at her hands, covered in Mjolnir's gauntlets. She passed over the rest, looking over her armor. The shotgun shell rack was gone, the weld that had held it in place crushed against a lattice of cracks that clawed across the majority of the front armor plate. Her knives were missing from their place on her hips.
Her chest wasn't hurting, but she knew something was wrong. Her ribs had to have been broken, cracked if nothing else. Was she dead? Finally on her way to meet her maker? She didn't know, but it seemed like her fight was over.
There was no room for war machines in this peaceful place. She could see more now, trees in the distance, and rolling hills and cliffs, waterfalls filling a river that ran along behind the prefab buildings.
Running through the armor's systems, she hit the emergency release, and several bolts on the armor exploded, the armored plates being popped from the techsuit underneath with a violent shuddering. All that was left was the helmet, and she reached up, pulling it from her head with a hiss and a grunt, before turning it around and holding it in her hands.
The golden visor was covered in dust and several spots on the helmet's armor plating showed dents, likely where the Brute had grabbed her head and smashed her into the tower. She frowned, running her thumb over the visor, but none of the dust would come away. It had been forever stained and deformed, much like the chest piece had been.
Looking around for it, she wanted to inspect it closer, but none of the armor was there anymore, all of it having ceased to exist while she searched for it. Something covered her eyes, and she flinched, before realizing it was her hair. Black strands had fallen into her eyes, the bun holding it all in place having failed at some point, and she brushed it away, only to have it fall again.
The frown deepened, and she willed the hair away, willed it to stay in place, and it did, but rather than being satisfied or pleased with it, she felt a sense of confusion. Even when she got what she wanted, it seemed it would lead to unhappiness, and she made a move to curse, when a voice behind her sounded.
"Got a few questions?"
It was that voice that had guided her here. It was Kat's voice. Ice filled Morgan's veins, and a cage closed around her heart. The last Noble turned like a whirlwind, her hair not moving from its spot, and saw the other woman standing there. She wasn't in her Mjolnir, nor was she in a military uniform. The hole she had expected to see in her sister's face was gone, looking just as it had on their first meeting after her posting to Noble. Even the dirtiness that had covered them all at the end was gone.
Catherine-B320 stood with her arms crossed, one leg off to the side with her hip cocked, a shallow smile on her face. A thin, loose gray shirt covered her figure, the short sleeves showing her toned arms. Black pants, loose and baggy, flowed down her legs, tied to her waist at the top by draw strings. Her feet were bereft of combat boots, instead hidden away by a pair of white sneakers, untied with the laces tucked in. It was as if she had been rushed for something, but something told Morgan that Kat had been waiting for quite some time.
Morgan swallowed, something that felt painful, like she was being choked, and stared into Kat's eyes. The faint smile on Kat's face disappeared, fading from view as she uncrossed her arms and took a step forward. Morgan fought the urge to take a step back. She would stand her ground in front of this ghost from her past, and seemingly her present.
"It's about time you decided to join us. We were getting tired of waiting."
Kat didn't take another step forward, instead beckoning to the group of prefabs. She turned away, not looking back over her shoulder as she started walking.
Morgan was torn between standing there, alone on the plain, and following a ghost. She chose the latter. She was tired of being alone, and Kat had bothered her regardless. Now would be the time to relax, even if it was merely a shallow representation brought on by the beginning of the end.
The trip was short, the prefabs seemingly covered in half the time it would have taken to close the distance. It wasn't something she dwelled on. There was no explanation she could think of, and Kat wasn't offering one for her either.
"You're awfully quiet," her voice came again, but she didn't look back as she crossed the first prefab, stepping into the middle of the circle they made.
Morgan looked to the first prefab, eyeing it up and down before she slowly made her way into the circle's borders, before she looked back to Kat and met the other woman's eyes. "You're awfully bold to say that. You've been in my mind for days, weeks. I don't remember anymore."
"You sure that was me?" Kat asked, eyebrow raised.
"Pretty sure it was Emile. Of course it was you, Kat. Are you playing dumb with me or trying to make me laugh? Because I'm not laughing and unless that Brute gave me brain damage, I'm not stupid enough to consider otherwise." She spat the words out, irritated by it all of a sudden.
Kat's lips pursed, her chest rising and falling as she took in a deep breath. Morgan tried to do the same, but nothing came, and she didn't dare raise her hand to her chest. "What, you think I've been haunting you, Morgan?"
"What else would you be doing? A dead woman calling to me and trying to make me second guess myself at every turn?"
"Was it me? Or was it your mind playing tricks on you?"
Morgan spoke through gritted teeth, expecting a headache at any moment. "Stop answering questions with questions, Kat."
The slavic woman gave her a half smile, her arms crossing again as she took up the pose from before. "I had expected this to be a much nicer reunion, like our last one."
Morgan anticipated a headache forming in the near future, if her brains hadn't been scrambled before getting brought here. "If you would tell me straight answers and not this riddle-filled bullshit that you keep spew-" Her hand came up, a finger pointing at the other woman in an accusing manner, and she saw the techsuit was gone.
She flinched, her attention torn from Kat and on her hand, her arm, scars and pale skin replacing the black techsuit. She held her other arm up, and it showed the same. Following the limbs up, she glanced down. Her chest was covered in a thin, faded violet shirt, with sleeves ending just an inch or two down her arm. Blue denim covered her legs, something she thought had gone out of style and production long ago with the advent of synthetic fiber alternatives. A pair of black shoes covered her feet, laced properly and held snug on her.
Kat started to answer but Morgan beat her to it. "What the fuck is going on here!?" She nearly screamed it, feeling the words pass through her throat as if they were clawing their way to the top, the first feeling she had truly had in this new world. Of course it had been pain. It was always pain. The first and last things she had felt had been that single feeling.
She wanted to sob, to break down and cry, but she didn't. Her eyes squeezed closed, as if trying to block it all off, to dispel the apparition of her sister in front of her. She didn't notice a flash of red in the sky, and it was gone as quickly as it had come. Her eyes opened and she saw Kat looking at her, almost sad.
"I can't tell you that, Morgan, as much as I want to. I… don't have the answers you're seeking." Her half smile was one that spoke volumes, sheathed in layers of hurt and resignation.
Frustration turned to anger, an emotion that Morgan knew well, but nonetheless lost control of in this instance. "Am I dead? Am I alive? Tell me! You're here, but you're dead! You've been in my head for too long! Years apart, and then we get reunited, only for you to get cored right behind me! Then the others did the same shit! First Jorge, then you, and then Emile and Carter. At least they got to go out on their own terms! I was all that was left, you know that?"
Kat didn't say anything, calm blue eyes meeting angry green. Morgan went on. "I expected to die on Reach. Expected it to all be over just like that." She snapped her fingers, a thunderclap passing over and making her flinch again.
"But you didn't." Kat finally spoke up, taking the pause in her sister's speech for herself. "You kept going, made it off world, you did what you had to do. Tell me, if you had to choose between staying there, fighting and dying for nothing, or doing what you did? Would you change your mind?"
It had been unexpected. Morgan's anger dissipated, as if water had been thrown on the fire inside of her. "What? No, I-"
Kat interrupted her. "Would you throw your life away if you were the only one that could do it?" She started walking closer, hand up and outstretched. "You remember what he told you."
Kat's fingers wrapped around something that was only just now present, and Morgan's eyes followed her hand until she saw what Kat was holding. Jorge's dog tag, still on a chain around her neck, but it was alone. She reached up and slipped the tag from Kat's fingers, holding it in her own as she voiced a memory. "He told me..." Her words wouldn't come out, and then she felt it, the massive hand on her shoulder.
"To make it count."
Her eyes started to close, started to give in to the emotion that she was feeling start to overflow, filling the empty void that this world had brought to her. Warmth flooded her eyes, but she didn't understand it. She forced herself to look back, and saw the big man standing behind her.
Jorge gave her a thin smile, hidden behind the bushy mustache he had worn and the darkness covering his cheeks, definitely out of regulation, and she felt herself return it. Pain came back, and it hurt to see him again, but she knew that she had missed him dearly since he disappeared over Reach as she fell to the planet below. At the same time, something else came over her, a warmth that reminded her of how his gentle demeanor and his way with her in particular had made him almost like a surrogate father figure in his mannerisms. At least, as much as one could be to a Spartan. She wanted to reach up, to put her hands on his chest or his shoulders, his arm or his hand. To remind herself he was there for real. He had been the only one she could have saved, the only one she could have traded places with in that instant.
"Did I? Did I make it count, Jorge?" It was almost a pleading question, one that begged for reassurance. That let her know she hadn't wasted his sacrifice.
His smile grew a bit more, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder gently. His tone rolled over her like distant thunder, his accent all too familiar. "You did as much as any of us could have been asked for. You made it count, Morgan."
His words fell on her like a thousand bricks. The world she had been brought to, this limbo or purgatory, it confused her. She didn't like it, or the thought that she had made it so close, only to get sidelined now. But, did it really matter? She had done her part, had gone above and beyond in every sense, had sacrificed everything. Could she be asked any more?
Jorge's hand finally left her shoulder, dropping to his side, and she stifled a frown as she realized that she missed it already. Emotions and feelings were starting to come back, to replace the numbness that had grown inside of her without her even realizing it. Pain, hurt, confusion, now warmth and loneliness. She looked up at Jorge, the big man's smile turning into a grin and deforming the scar across his eye as he clapped his hand against her bicep, pushing her just a bit. "Couldn't have done it better myself."
A laugh started to rise up her throat, and she let it out just a bit. "Emile was right, you really are sentimental, Jorge."
"I'm always right, girl."
She turned at the sound of his voice, seeing Emile step out of one of the prefabs. His knife was gone, but she recognized him all the same. She had only seen his face once before he had died, and even in death, he hadn't changed on bit from what she remembered. The black man gave her a cocky grin, nodding to her once. "You did good out there, real good. Couldn't have done it better myself."
Praise coming from Emile was something new, something fresh. She decided she liked it, returning the smile. He was halfway to her, his stride relaxed and smooth, unlike the aggressive advance his armor had always shown him to use.
He had his hand out, pointing at something on her chest. "I see you kept me around."
Glancing down, she saw that Jorge's tag had been joined by Emile's own, the two tags reflecting the light of the sun in the distance. She brought her hand up, wrapping her fingers around it and feeling the metal underneath. It was warm to the touch, as if it had been against her skin this whole time.
Looking back up to Emile, letting the tag go, she nodded. "I would have taken that sword you kept on your shoulder, but I figured you'd rather keep it close at hand."
A low chuckle, a genuine one, and not the sarcastic laughter she had heard so much in his presence. He had been anger made into a man, and she could understand that. "Much appreciated, Six." She decided she liked it when Emile wasn't so angry. It suited him better, in her eyes, and he seemed to see the twinkle in her eyes, because the grin softened into a smile that said volumes more than anything she'd heard him say on Reach.
Morgan was slowly throwing away her apprehensions, letting herself just believe in it all. What other choice was there? She could be angry and confused, lashing out at all of these ghosts that had never quite let her go, or she them; Or she could accept it for what it was, and enjoy whatever it brought. A part of her told her to push it away and claw her way back out into her armor, to pick up a gun and carry on, save Johnson and the others. But was it worth it? To fight again despite the stress and he pain on the endless road that fate had set her on?
She didn't know. She was tired of being the sole survivor, or of being sent out alone. A flash of blue across her eyes, and she heard another string of words, sounding far off and faint.
Don't make a girl a promise…
There it was. Her heart seized in yet another ice cold grip. She had made a promise, and she would be damned if she wouldn't keep it.
Green eyes passed over all of them as she backed up a few steps. Emile stood to Kat's left, and Jorge came around to tower over the other two, arms crossed. "I can't stay here. I need a way out."
Each one began to smile, but none of them said a word as they stared at her, and she backed up once more before she felt something against her back. Whipping around, she came face to face with Carter. His lips were set in a shallow upturn, his strong features standing out as they always had. Blue eyes looked down a sharp nose, meeting green as his hands came up, on either of her shoulders. She frowned, looking at both hands, before meeting his gaze again.
"You're right. You can't stay here." The smile faltered for a moment, before it was alive once more, stronger than before as he took his hands off and joined the rest of Noble. She turned to follow him with her gaze, watching as he stood between Kat and Jorge. "We'd love for you to join us… but you're not ready. Not yet."
A shock in her chest, electricity flooding through her entire body, and a single strong thud in her chest. Several seconds passed before another one came, and the sky above was torn before it reformed. Another jolt, and another tear. She felt panic filling her, looking at the sky with each new rip and tear growing larger and staying longer to expose the black void on the other side. Another anxious glance down at Noble, and she realized they were all still giving her that same smile, but their eyes said something she didn't understand.
Carter spoke up again. "You know the motto, Six. Spartans never die..."
A final jolt, and another powerful thud, and they were ripped away from her in a swarm of static. Her own voice echoed in her head as everything went back to black.
"...They're just missing in action."
Morgan's chest expanded with a gasp of air that she struggled to draw in, the cold air like ice in her mouth and throat. Her helmet was gone, and the tower she had left behind was once again in view, unobstructed by the visor or her HUD. The black armor of an ODST was hunched over her, opal visor staring at her. Shoulders drooped in relief, and the helmet turned to call out.
"Chief! I've got her!"
The olive green armor of Spartan 117 came into view, his own golden visor looking down at her. An MA5C was clutched in his armored hands, and he kneeled next to her, the ODST medic consulting a terminal with several cables that hooked into her armor.
"What happened? Where's Johnson?" Her words came out in a half croak. Her chest was on fire, and it hurt more every time she breathed.
"Taken. The Brutes got him to the Citadel. Are you good to fight?"
The medic's head whipped around, and though she couldn't see his face behind the visor he wore, she knew he was looking incredulously at the other Spartan. "Sir, she was dead, for longer than I'd like to think about. She's in no condition to fi-"
Morgan's hand came up, grabbing the trooper's arm, and watching his head come back to hers just as fast amused her. He would have whiplash at this rate. "I have a job to do. A promise to keep. I'm good to fight."
His protests started, but she silenced them with an open hand. She would be hearing nothing from it. "What's wrong with me?"
He was silent for a moment, before he pulled his tablet up. Already, she was going through her armor's diagnostics, finding out what had been damaged. Her chest armor had been cracked and compromised, and a glance down told her as much. The shotgun shell rack was gone, just like it had been in that dream world, and a spider's web of cracks covered the armor. It wasn't deep, but it meant another hit like that, or plasma hitting it would be far more dangerous than normal. One of the shield emitters was destroyed as well, weakening the frontal shields. Reaching up, her hand brushed against the cracks, and she visualized the dog tags resting underneath, wanting to reach out and touch them again.
"Your chest plate isn't combat effective anymore, and almost every one of your ribs has suffered hairline fractures. Left 12th rib is cracked, and if it's put under any more heavy strain it could break and cause more trouble down the line. You've got a concussion and your helmet has several dents in it from… whatever messed you up. I'm telling you, you're not in fighting condition. If you meet whatever left you here again, I can almost promise it'll finish the job this time. If you somehow win, your chest cavity is likely to collapse and you'll suffocate and die anyway."
Morgan looked at the trooper, green eyes boring into the blue visor. "Spartans never die, Helljumper."
Whatever he might have said was stopped, and she reached for a canister of biofoam stuck in one of his armor's pouches. Stuffing it into one of the ports of her armor, she pushed the plunger on the canister down, and felt the icy burn of the biofoam activating. It expanded in her chest, stabilizing the ribs just in case, and threw the canister away. The onboard medical system for her armor was ruined, just her luck. She grabbed another canister and attached it to her armor. It would have to do.
"My helmet." Her words were clipped and she still felt herself having trouble breathing, but the biofoam would help.
The medic seemed to be done protesting, wordlessly handing the damaged helmet to her, and she took it just as quietly. It was turned over in her hands, and she saw five dents in the metal where the Brute had grabbed her, and another larger dent in the rear where it had been slammed into the tower's window. The AI port was undamaged, miraculously, and she ran her thumb over it as if that would call out Cortana from the empty chip still slotted in place. She didn't miss the Master Chief tilting his head slightly at the motion.
The helmet was spun again, the golden visor covered in dust and grime from the fighting. A sense of deja vu came over her as she turned it back around and held it up, sliding it over her head. Seals met and held, hissing as they locked her inside of the armor again. Her HUD displayed on the helmet, flickering for a moment before flashing and staying strong. The shield bar was empty, and it let out a low deedle deedle as the armor set it to charge, before a muted beep told her it was charged and ready for action again.
She was damaged, wounded, and all around a mess after that fight, but she would be able to fight again. She would get Johnson back, and she would have her revenge.
Something entered the side of her field of vision, and she saw what it was. A BR55 was held out to her, butt first, and she followed the stock to see the Master Chief had given her the weapon that she had dropped during that ill fated fight. Taking it, she gave him a silent nod, one he returned.
The medic, collapsing his medical terminal and slotting it back into place in the small of his back, glanced at her and then back to the Chief, before his visor aimed for the Citadel in the distance. The shield was down, and the Shadow of Intent slid into place over the structure that housed the Prophet of Truth. She frowned. There was no idea of knowing whether or not Johnson was in there. If he was, then his fate would be sealed along with the rest.
But it was out of her hands now, and she would carry that with her until she couldn't carry herself. The energy projector on the bottom of the assault carrier's bulbous bow lit up, straining against the mass of energy that was fed to the weapon.
The Shipmaster's voice rang in her ears, slightly tinny from the helmet's damage. "Now, Prophet… your end has come."
She waited for the final strike, the blow to end the war, but it never came. A rupture in the sky behind the Shadow of Intent formed, spewing angry purple and blue arcs of electricity as an absolutely massive slipspace portal was ripped open, and the rotted, Flood infested mass of the Covenant Holy City, High Charity, emerged in all of its corrupted state.
The Shipmaster almost seemed confused. "High Charity… by the Gods, brace for impact!" The mushroom shaped station passed overhead, missing the carrier by a wide margin and sending a thunderclap over the land, but dozens of pieces began to break off and drop in a storm of debris that smashed into the landscape below and the other towers. One piece came down on the Intent, the shields flaring in a flash of white as the chunk of station hit it, collapsing the shields and still plunging through one side and out the other. A geyser of flame erupted from the new wound, and the carrier listed heavily as it was crippled by the hit. One of the secondary engines flamed out, going dark and leaving the carrier with even less power.
"The parasite has dealt the Intent a heavy blow, our weapons systems are offline and we're losing altitude!"
Commander Keyes was on the line in a heartbeat, and Morgan watched as another piece of debris hurtled right for them. "Break away! Get some distance and try to recover!"
The Intent struggled to gain altitude, lifting slowly and turning away from the Citadel to try and make sense of the damage they had been dealt. But Morgan didn't have time to worry about that, and the chunk of debris continued on its path, giving her just enough time to yell and grab the medic, staring awe struck at it all.
"Incoming!" Her hand latched onto the medic's chest piece and hauled him out of the way, the debris smashing through the massive window and coming to a halt against the glass that separated them from the elevator, where it rolled and finally settled down.
The Master Chief already had his weapon up, the rifle chattering loudly as a roar went up, composed of a million voices, and Flood combat forms started sprinting out of the wreckage.
The medic, struggling to comprehend it all, pulled his sidearm to engage, and the sounds of combat drowned out Morgan's words to everybody but herself as another fight in a life of war started.
"Out of the frying pan..."
Noble Six would have her rest one day, but today was not that day.