The Furious Wolf
Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Fast and Furious in any way, shape, or form. They belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 1.
It was another busy day at the docks as the labourers worked around the clock to unload the containers from the cargo ships that had docked in the harbour with the large industrial crane, such as the case with a large white container that was loaded onto a semitruck that was filled with electrical goods that ranged from televisions, DVD players, and video cameras.
"Make sure those doors are closed." The foreman said to one of the workers as he started walking away. When he was far enough away, he pulled out a mobile phone from his pocket and called the number that was on speed dial.
Pressing it to his ear, he listened as it started ringing and waited a few moments before they picked up. Like usual they didn't utter a word, but he had come to expect nothing less from him.
"Just packed up a real money load," The foreman told him as he stepped out of the way of a forklift truck that drove through the docks and looked around to make sure that nobody could hear him. "And it's heading your way. Look for a white container with the words Rodgers written on the side. Don't forget my share of the deal." He said as he hung up the phone and headed off.
Within a couple of hours of leaving the harbour, the amber skies have been replaced by darkness as the Semi-truck drove down the highway and heading towards Los Angeles to deliver the goods.
For the most part the journey had been a quiet one with the only hold up being the traffic and the occasional roadworks, but such things were to be expected when traveling across the state. Alas, like with all good things nothing lasted for long.
Behind the truck, three identical black Honda Civics that had tinted out windows, making it impossible to see who was inside, and green neon lights connected to the underbelly that lit up the road, roared down the highway and moved to intercept semitruck before it could reach its destination. Tearing down the highway and reaching it within a matter of seconds, the cars moved into formation confirming that it hadn't been a random decision to rob the truck but rather planned.
Moving into formation, the first Honda went around the truck and moved in front of it. The second moved to the left and the third moved to the right boxing the truck in; even though if they had wanted to the truck driver could have very easily knocked them out of the way...fortunately for them they didn't want to damage company property.
Growing tired of whom he believed to be joyriders, the truck driver blared the horn hoping to intimidate them enough so they would leave. It was only when he saw the leading Honda Civic open up their sunroof and someone that was wearing a black motocross helmet and black clothes climbed out and pointed a grappling gun and aimed it at the passenger's side.
Barely having a chance to comprehend what was going on, they shot the grappling gun into the window and ripped it free from the truck. Once the glass was out of the way, the Honda that was on the right side of the truck moved up and mirrored the first car as someone wearing identical clothing as the first climbed out of the sunroof and fired their own grappling gun, this time into the passenger's seat.
Pulling the wire from the grappling gun and connected it to their belt before climbing out and onto the car and jumped across the gap between Honda and the truck. Pulling themselves into the cab they greeted by the sight of the angry truckdriver that started to swing a bat at them as they tried to defend not only themselves but their property from the hijackers.
Moving back as best they could narrowly avoiding having their arm broken, they reached behind their back and pulled out a tranquilizer gun that was almost knocked out of their hand by the truckdriver. Pointing it at the driver, they pulled the trigger and fired a dart into their arm making the driver groan.
Drowsiness quickly ensued as the driver did everything he could to fight off the hijacker and continued to swing the bat at him, though each swing became slower and more sluggish than the first before his eyes rolled back into his head and he was out cold.
Pulling the into the back of the cab to get them out of the way, the hijacker jumped into the front seat and grabbed the wheel and tried to steady the truck as it served and weaved across the highway. As he tried to gain control, he smashed through roadwork barriers and blared the horn to get the roadworkers out of the way as the truck, followed by the three Honda's, as they raced down the single lane.
As the truck drove down the narrow lane, the Honda next to it quickly turned and moved under it to avoid crashing into the roadworks and skilfully matched its speed so they wouldn't be crushed underneath the truck. Passing the roadworks, the Honda veered away from under the container and into one of the other lanes.
Speeding away from the roadworks, the truck and the three Honda's raced down the highway and escaped with the container filled with electrical goods disappearing into the darkness of the night.
Meanwhile mile away from where the hijacking had just taken place, a cloaked figure could be seen crouching on the edge of one of the old industrial buildings that was in downtown L.A. looking down at the street and waiting patiently for their latest target to arrive. The black cloak concealed their identity, hence the reason they were wearing it, and seemed to merge into the shadows giving the impression that they were some creature of the night.
Looking down at the empty street, two sedans were parked outside of an old warehouse that had been decommissioned and abandoned for years, and inside were a total six-armed thugs that had arrived ten minutes ago. If it was not for the fact that they were not his primary concern he would've already dealt with them...but he didn't want to do anything that would tip of the weapons smuggler that had been exporting weapons into the city; weapons that would give the criminals and edge over the cops tipping the balance.
Granted it was nothing that would pose a threat to him, but if left unchecked all of Los Angeles would quickly turn into a bloodbath where millions of innocent people would ultimately pay the price; and that was something he could nor would he allow.
Furthermore, while the man was smuggling weapons into the state, he was only a puppet...meaning someone was pulling the strings. The only question remained was who.
"Heads up, Six." A synthetic feminine voice, that had a distinct British accent, spoke up pulling him from his thoughts. "They're heading our way." She informed him just as a set of headlights lit up the street as a black SUV came down the street and stopped in front of the warehouse.
The hooded figure, who had been identified by the callsign of Six, said nothing as he watched as the doors to the SUV opened and four men jumped out, though only three of them were holding assault rifles while the fourth was holding onto a large weapons case that they took into warehouse.
Waiting until they had gone inside, the figure stood to his full height of nearly seven foot and picked up his M395 Designated Marksmen Rifle that had been resting on the floor as he waited for the smuggler to arrive. Moving back, he ran into full sprint and jumped off the building and across the street.
As gravity took affect and he began falling towards the ground, he extended his arm revealing a thick layer of grey armour covering his arm with a wrist-mounted attachment that shot out a grappling hook that connected to the building next to the warehouse and repelled himself across the street and onto the rooftop.
Landing on the rooftop, he silently moved across it making sure not to disturb the rusty and brittle metal panels and entered the building through the large hole at the side of the building that led onto the second floor that looked over what had once been a factory floor before it had fallen into disarray and the company had gone under. Silently walking across one of the metal columns that were still surprisingly sturdy despite their age.
Crouching down, he looked down at the factory floor to see the security detail, which were really nothing more than hired help, expendable grunts, wearing black suits and wielding M4 Carbines patrolling the room but making sure to stay close to their patron.
"What time do you call this?" Six heard the leader, who he knew as Brando "One Eye" Manzo, a nickname he had gained for obvious reasons though nobody was dare say it to his face, shouted as the smuggler and his own security detail walked into the room. "When someone tells me to meet them at one in the morning, I expect them to be here when I arrive."
"I apologise for the delay, but I thought it best not to draw too much attention to ourselves." The arms dealer apologised as he walked into the room carrying the weapon case. "The last thing any of need is the cops poking their nose in where it's not wanted."
"Agreed." Brando concurred uncrossing his arms. "Your merchandise better be as good as you claim after dragging me down at his ungodly hour."
"Rest assured I only offer the best." Six heard the arms dealer guarantee as he watched him place the weapons case onto one of the old conveyor belts and flicked opened the catch and pulled out a pristine rifle that looked brand-new. "Allow me to introduce you to the FX-05 Xiuhcoatl assault rifle."
"That's impossible." The same synthetic voice stated surprised. "The Xiuhcoatl shouldn't exist for another two years, and it'll be years until the Mexican army ever shares the schematics with anyone...or at least it should be."
"..." Six said nothing as he listened to the conversation that was taking place below him.
"Never heard of it." Brando sniffed.
"I'd be surprised if you had." The arms dealer chuckled. "This is a working prototype created by our friends in Mexico that..."
"Does it work?" Brando cut him off. "I'm paying top end dollar for functioning weapons, not crap that's barely off the production line and likely to blow up in my face when I pull the trigger."
"You insult me." The arms dealer feigned hurt. "I have personally tested all these weapons. Believe me they work fine." he assured him. "But most of all they are completely untraceable."
"Untraceable you day?" One Eye sounded intrigued.
"I thought that would get your attention." Six heard the dealer say as he lifted his DMR up and aimed it Brando. "As these are prototype's they don't exist yet meaning that there is no manufacture they can be traced back to. Furthermore, these are military grade. You won't find a more reliable weapon on the market...and it comes with a few key features."
"Such as?"
"It's compatible with all existing telescopic sights." Six heard the dealer inform him before watching as he flicked a switch on the side of the weapon. "Comes with a laser sight." he demonstrated by pointing the rifle at the wall where a small red dot appeared. "Has a fully adjustable stock," he adjusted the stock to demonstrate. "And three firing modes. Semi-automatic, three round bursts, and automatic."
"Hmmm," Manzo sounded somewhat impressed as Six rested the crosshairs at the base of his skull. "Pass it here." He ordered motioning for him to hand over the gun. "I want to make sure you're not just blowing smoke up my ass."
"Don't take me at my word?"
"Kid, with the amount of money I'm spending I want to make sure it's up to par to what I've got now." He told him. "I'm paying you a small fortune...for your sake you better be straight up with me." He continued ignoring the looks that the dealers' guards sent him for his underline threat. "Now pass me a fucking magazine." He ordered holding his hand out.
"As you wish..." The dealer started to say only to be cut off as Six pulled the trigger of his DMR and eliminated Brando with a headshot to the back of the skull, killing him instantly and thrown forward like a ragdoll.
"Move!" One of the dealers' henchmen yelled out they ran and tackled them out of the way to shield them from the fire. Not wanting the arms dealer dead just yet, Six took out another guard with a headshot, followed by another revealing his position as everyone scrambled to escape the firing line and looked up to see a black cloak draped over the column.
"Up there!" One of the guards shouted pointing where Six was crouched before the entire room was lit up like the fourth of July as they started firing at him. "Kill the bastard!"
Jumping down from the column, Six aimed at the closest thug and took them down with another headshot then took down another.
"The hell?!" One of the bodyguards shouted over the gunfire as he noticed the golden light that bled out from underneath the cloaking making him look like an angel of death that had been sent down to punish them for their deeds, before his head snapped back as a bullet penetrated his skull.
As he fell to the ground, Six extended his arm and fired the Grappleshot at one of the criminals making them scream as the grappling penetrated them before they were yanked off the ground and into the air towards him. As the grappling hook retracted, he grabbed them by the chest and brought his fist down and rammed it into their chest as they fell to the bottom floor.
Hitting the bottom floor, the force of his fist pushed through the man's chest sending a sickening crunch throughout the warehouse making the others recoil in horror as the man's chest literally exploded before their very eyes killing him instantly and kicked up decades worth of dust and debris as he hit the ground like a ton of bricks.
Removing their arm from the thug's thorax, his arm was covered in blood as he stood up to his fall height and towered over them all completely unfazed by the fall that should have killed them, or at the very least broken their legs. During the fall the hood had fallen back revealing the face of the behemoth that had assassinated Brando Manzo and gunned down the others.
A blackish-grey helmet made from metal that looked thick enough to be on a tank, a golden visor that reflected their own terrified reflections, and had what looked like four vents, two larger ones at the side and another two smaller ones at the bottom of the helmet.
"Oh, fuck." A voice trembled in fear as they stared at the face of the vigilante that the press had named the Ghost. "I-it's him!" he said shaking like a leaf as he came to the realization of who it was before them. Before they could say anything else, the Ghost shot forward with speeds that shouldn't have been humanly possible and cocked their arm back then drove it forward and punched through their head.
"Don't just stand there, kill him!" The arms dealer roared as he took cover behind one of his guards but seeing as how quickly they were being picked off he knew it was only a matter of time until they too were killed. "Cover me." He told him as they tried to make their escape as the others focused on the vigilante.
Punching through the guard's head, Six watched as his shields began surging around him as they protected him from the storm of rounds that were fired at him; although even without the energy shields he knew they would wouldn't even scratch the titanium alloy plating let alone reaching the titanium nanocomposite techsuit beneath.
Raising the DMR, he eliminated the guard that the arms dealer was using as cover as he tried to make a run for the door. As they dropped to the floor, he saw the hysterical look that formed on the dealers face when he saw that his protector had been taken out and crouched down and pulled the gun out of their arms.
"Fucking die!" One of the remaining henchmen cried out as the marched towards him and held down the trigger trying to break his shields, though it was doubtful they even knew what they were and kill him. He quickly took him down with a quick headshot before twisting his body around and drove his elbow into the face of another lowly grunt that tried hit him with the butt of their weapon, caving their face and killing them instantly from the blunt force trauma.
Eliminating another thug with a headshot, Six looked in the direction of where another henchmen, one that didn't mindlessly charge at him like a brute, was firing at him from a distance. Raising his arm, he fired Grappleshot and pulled them across the room and over to him while the arms dealer started to make a beeline for the door.
As the zipline retracted from the thug, they were thrown across the room and landed hard on and rolled across the ground. Before they could attempt to get back to their feet, Six brought his leg up and stomped down on their head turning it to a thick red paste beneath his armoured boot.
Seeing the dealer trying to run away, he sprinted after him and crossed the room within a matter of seconds gunning down the last remaining guards until it was only him and arms dealer left. Reaching him, Six grabbed him by the back of his jacket and threw him back sending him sliding back onto the floor and stalked towards him.
"Stop, stop, just stop!" The dealer implored as he shakily pointed the gun at the vigilante that prowled towards him like a lion about to devour its prey, blood dripping off his arm and boot. "You don't need to do this! What do you want? Drugs?! Guns?! Weapons?! Money?! Girls?! Boys?! I've got contacts! Whatever you need..." The gun was torn from his grasp and a hand wrapped around his throat and lifted off the ground and slowly choked as he was suspected in the air.
"You don't have to do this." He gurgled and spluttered as he struggled to get his words out as he was strangled.
"The weapons, where did they come from?" The vigilante finally spoke for the first time, his voice as cold as winter and as empty as the abyss.
"If I tell you he'll kill me."
"Think I won't?" Six asked as he applied more pressure making the arms dealer gasp as he felt his throat being crushed.
"Stop, I'll talk." He wheezed falling to the floor as the vigilante let him go. "They came from San Francisco. Some guy named Flass gave me the guns to sell, and he and his associates get the profit. He's a cop in the SFPD." He informed as he greedily gasped for air. "That's all I know, I swear. I'm not paid to ask question just find a buyer for the merchandise." He rubbed his throat and looked up to see the vigilante pointing a blocky pistol at him making his eyes widen. "Please, I'm just the middleman you don't have to kill me."
BANG!
The arms dealers head snapped back as Six executed them with a headshot and kicked them away from him and looked around the room where the rest of the thugs could be seen laying in a pool of their own blood.
"Was all that really necessary?" The same synthetic voice from before questioned as the firefight finally came to an end. "You could have ended them quickly...and not as savagely."
"I did what was necessary." Lieutenant Spartan-B312, otherwise known as Noble Six, stated as he looked down to see his cloak was filled with bullet holes.
"Necessary? Since when was brutalizing and maiming criminals considered necessary?" Auntie Dot, the former dumb Artificial Intelligence of Noble Team, shot back. "I'm getting worried about you, Six."
"Don't be." Six said as he left the room and stepped back onto the street that he had been watching not too long ago.
"Your recent behaviour has forced me too." She stated to her partner. "Your tactics are becoming more and more brutal as time goes on, even more than when you started working with ONI again." She said as he started pushing the SUV back towards the warehouse. "There are times that I could mistake you for Emile."
"This going somewhere?" The Spartan-III commando asked her.
"Don't you think you're going too far? That you're crossing lines that you never would have before? The name Spartan inspired hope across the galaxy...if you carry on like this what do you think that name will become?"
"..."
"We have a new life here, Six. I know I sound like a broken record at this point but start over here, really start over. I'm not saying give up being a Spartan, but would immersing yourself in the part of Jericho Reach really be so bad? You could finally be happy for the first time in your life." Dot remarked as Six sighed inside of his helmet.
"I told you I'm fine."
"I'm in your head, Six." Dot reminded her partner. "You're miserable and you know it. The only time I ever see you happy is when you're helping out at the shelter or when you're alone tinkering with your cars." She told him and he almost grimaced when she said tinkering. He did not tinker with anything, thank you very much. He worked on restoring cars, there was a difference.
"..."
"Your silence just means you know I'm right." Dot told him smugly. "Most of all you could have a family again."
"I've had three families and they all died." Six reminded her harshly referring to his biological family, Beta Company, Kurt, Mendez and finally Noble Team. Save for his birth parents, he had foolishly allowed himself to grow attached knowing that all of them would probably die...a majority of them were fellow Spartan-III's, expendable super soldiers that were expected to give their lives against the Covenant to buy humanity for time. "Never again."
"I'm well aware of that...but its 2004, Six." She pointed out. "Meaning that there is no war and won't be for another five hundred years. You're not going to lose your family to the Covenant, or the prophets lies. Don't you deserve a little bit of happiness?"
"We both know the answer to that."
"Would you stop being a pessimist for just ten seconds?" Dot complained. "Some young lady from L.A will make an honest man out of you."
"You finished?"
"For the time being." Dot told him, and he knew from personal experience that she meant it. "So, what now?"
"Look into this Flass the dealer mentioned." Six told her as he reached underneath his tattered cloak and pulled out a Napalm Grenade, a type of incendiary grenade created by the UNSC. "I want to know everything about him and his associates."
"If he is a cop, we could gather everything we have on him and send it over to Internal affairs." Dot suggested as Six tossed the grenade in his hands as he prepared to throw it to torch the building. "Killing criminals is one thing but if you start killing cops, regardless of if they're dirty or not, and it gets linked back to you it'll be a bloodbath."
"We'll see." Six murmured as he primed the grenade before tossing it into the warehouse to torch the place. Turning around and walking away, the building began to set alight as he walked back out into the street and used the grappleshot to repel himself onto the building on the other side of the road and disappeared without a trace.
And cut! Well, here is the first chapter of my rewrite, A Furious Wolf v2! I hope you all enjoyed it and that it looks a little better than the previous versions first chapter.
I'm not sure if it came across right but what I'm trying to make apparent is that unlike in the previous version, Six is becoming more and more brutal, unhinged following the fall of Reach and after returning to ONI. Sort of like how the Batman from Batman v Superman simply stopped caring after twenty years of fighting crime in Gotham and began massacring the criminals without mercy.
Next chapter will have Six meeting Dom, Mia and the others for the first time and like in the previous version this will be a Six x Mia pairing.
As for where Six and Dot will be living, I'm sort of conflicted at the minute as I was planning on having them live in Los Angeles this time. But I also had a few other ideas which are...
Have the farm back again with everything I had in the previous version.
Do what I was planning on doing which was using the clocktower from Batman Arkham Knight that Six would own and has it as not only his home but as his headquarters with the top floor being exactly how it is in that game.
Or use the lakeside glass house from Batman v Superman that away from the city with a secret facility under the house that looks like the one from the film but filled with Halo technology.
Anyway, let me all know what you thought :)
