The Demon of the Nine-Nine
Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Brooklyn 99 in any way, shape, or form, they belong to their respective owners. The only thing I own are any OC's I create for the story.
Chapter 1.
In one of the back alleys of New York City sat an old, abandoned warehouse that had clearly seen better days judging from its appearance. Ravaged by the passage of time and generally poor maintenance, the bricks were weathered and the writing that had been painted on the side of the building had faded over time making it unreadable. Most of, if not all the windows were smashed and the few that were not were either stained from the cities excessive pollution or had moss growing up them.
Generally, the public gave the warehouse a wide berth. Investors knew that it would cost more money to renovate than they would ever get back meaning that it was ultimately neglected and fell into disarray...hence its dismal state. The only time it was ever used was when taggers and inspiring artists wanted to practise their skills and used it as their canvas.
At least during the day.
Right now it was the dead of night and lights were shining out of the windows and the cracks of the building like a beacon, followed by the sounds of muffled screams that resounded throughout the warehouse. Inside of the warehouse of group of armed men could be seen standing inside while another, presumably the leader, proceeded to beat his captive to an inch of his life.
"You have greatly disappointed Mr Figgins, Victor." The man calmly explained to his captive who was tied to an old rickety chair that like the warehouse was barely holding together, and had a rag stuffed into his mouth preventing him from shouting for help. A mixture of blood and saliva seeped from his mouth and dripped onto his white shirt staining it. Bruises formed across his now swallow face, and his eyes were bloodshot and droopy as he struggled to stay conscience. "After everything he has done for you, and this is how you repay his kindness?"
"Mmmmm." The gagged victim tried to say only for his words to come out muffled.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?" The man joked earning laughs from the others while his captive breathed in and out through his nose and glared up at him. "Now what were you saying?" he asked as he grabbed the rag and pulled it from his mouth.
"I haven't betrayed Mr... ugh!" Victor Smith, an NYPD Detective that had been on the infamous Jimmy "The Butcher" Figgins payroll for a number of years tried to explain only to receive another punch to the side of the jaw, making him reel back and spit out a mouthful of blood and saliva.
"My patience is running thin, Victor." The man warned sounding irritated as he glared at the man while rubbing his knuckles. "Either you tell me what I want to know or..."
"I've told you everything I know!" The detective cried out, doing his best to get his words out knowing that he was moments away from having his head blown off if he didn't tell them exactly what they wanted to know. "I..." Whatever he was going to say was interrupted as received another punch to the face. "Urgh!"
"And I'm getting real tired of hearing your bullshit, pig." The man sneered before hitting him again, again, and again. "Either you tell me what I want to know or me and the boys go and pay your wife a little visit once we're done with you." The man threaten, his voice as cold as ice, getting a terrified look from the detective. "You know I hear losing both your parents in a single night leaves a profound effect on a child."
"Leave my family out of this."
"Then tell me what I want to know." The man stated calmly as he looked down at the beaten and bloody detective. "It's all very simple, Victor. You're the one prolonging your suffering."
"But I have told you everything!" The detective insisted. "I swear to god I have told you everything I know! You think I'm stupid enough to rat out Jimmy?!"
"Apparently so." The man commented idly.
"I haven't! I swear to god..."
"You're starting to sound like a broken record now, Victor." the man ridiculed the detective. "And quite frankly I'm starting to get a headache. Either you tell me the truth or..."
"What reason would I have to betray him?!" Victor cried out in despair. "I have given Jimmy solid and reliable intel over the years, intel that has kept him out of prison. Why would I ever do anything to jeopardize our relationship?"
"You tell me." The man responded coolly. "Of course, I can think of a few reasons." he added as be began to list of the reasons why Victor had betrayed his employer. "Maybe you've suddenly grown a conscience and decided that you don't want to take bribes anymore. Maybe your wife has gotten to you and convinced you to do the right thing?"
"No," The detective shook his head vigorously. "She knows nothing about mine and Jimmy's deal." he added firmly. "I swear that I never ratted Figgins out..."
"Then explain to me why the warehouse that you were meant to protect, the one you are paid a substernal amount of money to watch over and discourage the curious, was attacked last week and the goods are now in the hands of the LAPD?" He interrogated. "Call me paranoid but don't you find it a little suspicious that the night that it was raided you, again the one we pay to protect it, was nowhere in sight? Almost like you knew exactly what was going to happen."
"I was on patrol, damn it!" Victor shouted at him. "I can't stay in one place all night, you know that!"
"Very convenient." The man retorted sarcastically. "I suppose that means that you were not with the cops that raided the warehouse then?"
"They didn't." Victor muttered only to receive to a slap to the face.
"A little louder please, Victor. The boys in the back couldn't hear you." he chuckled to himself as he rubbed his knuckles which were beginning to get a little sore from the beating he had given the detective.
"I...I-I said that the LAPD never raided the place." The detective revealed surprising the thug.
"What do you mean?" He asked quickly, glad that he was finally getting somewhere.
"Exactly what I said." The bound detective responded. "Cops never raided the place, it had already been hit long before anyone arrived on the scene." he explained to the man, meanwhile the others listened in.
"Bullshit." One of the other men said clearly not buying it.
"I'm telling you the truth." The detective swore before looking back at the man in front of him. "When the cops arrived on the scene everybody apart from the workers had been killed."
"By?"
"You can't honestly be buying this crap?!"
"Will you shut up for a minute?!" The leader of the group shouted to silence the one that spoke up. "By who?" He asked for a second time as he turned back to face the detective.
"I dunno," Victor answered quickly. "I swear to god I don't know..."
"You said that the workers were kept alive. Surely one of them must have seen who attacked the warehouse...unless you're lying to me again?" He remarked glaring daggers at the detective. "For your sake you better not be."
"I'm not lying." The detective told him. "And we don't know who attacked...that's why I never told Jimmy until learnt who it was."
"So not one of them saw who attacked?" When the detective said nothing, he continued." My patience is beginning to wear thin with you, Victor."
"Statements from traumatized workers can be taken with a pinch of salt."
"I'll be the judge of that." The thug retorted coldly. "Now talk..." he ordered as he pulled out his Glock from his holster and aimed it at him. "Before it's too late." He threatened.
"Alright, alright, alright." The detective's voice trembled in fear. "Like I said take it with a grain of salt..."
"Get to the point, damn it!" The thug growled as he pressed the barrel of the Glock roughly into his cranium.
"All the witnesses claimed that the warehouse was attacked by..." The detective began to say only to be interrupted by a loud bang that came from outside followed by the sound of glass smashing before his interrogator was silenced permanently when a bullet went through the side of his head and out the other resulting in him being thrown like a ragdoll across the room.
"DOWN!" One of the armed men shouted while the Detective sat out in the open defenceless and looked around frantically for the sniper/hitman that had killed his interrogator moments ago.
"Anyone see where that shot came from?" One of the thugs asked as they moved behind the white van that was parked in the middle of the warehouse, the same one that they had arrived in to long ago after collecting the detective.
"Fucked If I know." Another shot back as he poked his head out of cover to see if he could spot the bullets entry point.
"Get your head down you..."His warning came too late as another bang rang out and his head snapped back as he was taken out by another well-placed shot to the head.
"Shit!" The previous man swore, his heart pounding like a drum as he watched as his team were getting picked off one at a time. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He continued to swear as he jumped back into cover and pressed his back against the side of the van.
"Stop panicking for god's sake!" his friend cried out.
"Stop panicking?!" They repeated incredulously. "We're being picked off one by one...when do you think would be the appropriate time to panic?" he asked rhetorically.
"Which is exactly why I need to remain calm and focused, damn it!" He hissed at his partner. "Look," he began taking a deep breath. "As long as we don't stick our heads out in the open like that idiot, we'll be fine...alright?"
"Alright." The gunmen nodded calming his nerves.
"Good." He said sounding relieved. "Now, all we've got to do is get into the van and get out of here."
"And what about him?" One of the three remaining gunmen asked looking over to where the Detective was still sitting bound to the chair, looking just as terrified as they felt.
"Leave him."
"Jimmy will skin us alive if we leave him here." One of the gunmen growled. "Or worse."
"I thought that we were gonna kill him anyway?"
Before anything else could be said regarding what they were going to do with the bound detective the power to the warehouse went out leaving them all standing in the darkness, blind to anything that was in front of them.
"Fuck him!" A gunmen shouted as he slowly got up and pressed his hand firmly against the van to feel his way out. "We've gotta go, and right now! We're sitting ducks here!"
"Think I don't know that?!" Another shouted back as he scrambled to his feet. "Somebody get to the drivers seat and...
He was interrupted when a loud thump hit the roof making them all look up. The thump was soon replaced by a sharp noise as the roof started to buckle and groan followed by a loud bang as it finally caved in sending broken pieces of wood and metal panels falling to the ground. However, it was thing that came down with the debris that made their blood run cold.
It could only be described as unnatural, the stuff from nightmares as it fell from the ceiling. They couldn't make out much since the power had been cut leaving them in total darkness but the light that shined out of the now broken roof, they saw that it was wearing a poncho that spread out as they fell looking like some monstrous creature of the night that had come to punish them for their sins.
A conceptualization that was maintained by the large golden eye that glared down at them and the thick metal plating that covered their legs that looked as thick and durable as the platting you'd expect to find on a tank; yet as imposing and frightening as the creature looked it was the large rifle that they were holding that gave them pause.
Before they could even react, the creature pulled the trigger and fired as they fell, the height or the fact they had just fallen through the roof and falling to their death unfazed them. As they fired a single shot the barrel flashed lighting up the entire warehouse, the light reflecting off their giant golden eye that upon closer inspection looked like a large golden visor.
The first of the three remaining criminals was killed instantly when their head seemed to explode as the bullet went through their skull as the cloaked hitman landed on the ground kicking up years' worth of dust and debris covering the warehouse and leaving two large impressions in the ground. However, the fall which should have killed or at the very least shattered their bones unfazed them as they stood up and towered over the remaining two criminals.
The overhead light shined down from the whole in the roof revealing the cloaked figure who towered over the criminals who seemed to lose the ability to speak, as did the detective who stared dumbfounded, as they looked at the hitman.
Both men tried to raise their weapons to take down the cloaked hitman but before they could even comprehend what was happening, they lifted up their sniper rifle, which again was unlike anything they had ever seen, and pulled the trigger one more and killed the criminal closest to them with another headshot that snapped their head back and they dropped to the ground.
Trembling in fear seeing that he was all that remained of the crew that had brought the detective to the warehouse to interrogate him, he brought his rifle up and held down the trigger and fired a barrage of bullets to avenge his friends and kill the bastard that had killed them...and if he was lucky Jimmy would reward him generously for his service.
However, much to his disbelief instead of hurting or even wounding them a thin golden light shimmered around their entire body. The cloaked figure merely looked at him as he continued to empty his magazine of bullets until a clicking sound could be heard. Whether it was because all logic had left his mind or in his terrified state all sense of reason had been abandoned, he kept pulling the trigger as if somehow more bullets would magically be fired.
He swallowed a lump in his throat when the cloaked hitman started walking towards him until he stood before him and towered over him. The light that covered him lighting up the warehouse where he could see his own terrified reflection staring back at him.
"Please," his voice trembled as he begged for life. "You don't have to kill me. You'll never see me again...I promise." he pleaded only for the golden light to suddenly go out leaving him in the darkness.
From where he was sitting, the detective watched as a bang, followed by a flash, echoed before a thump echoed across the warehouse. Silence ensued as the last of Jimmy's men fell leaving him alone with the hitman in the darkness. He pulled and tugged at the rope that kept his hands restrained and bound to the chair, desperately trying to free himself only to stop when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming towards him.
"Listen, I don't know who you are but I'm not with them." He shouted into the darkness; his heart began to pound when the footsteps grew louder as they neared him. " My name is Victor Smith, I'm a detective of the NYPD. I work at the 42nd precinct..." He tried to explain only to scream loudly when the chair he was tied too was lifted off the ground effortlessly and thrown across the room.
"Urgh!" He groaned as he crashed into the ground smashing the chair. Shaking his head, he tried to figure out where he was but couldn't make out anything aside from the pillar of light above the van. "Didn't you hear what I said?!" he shouted as he spun his head around to see where the cloaked hitman was. "I'm a Cop, damn it! A COP! I'm not with them!" he continued to shout before snapping his head in the direction of where he heard footsteps approaching.
Before he could even get to his feet a set of powerful light blinded him forcing him to cover his eyes. Lowering his arm, he looked up to see the hitman standing above him and shining the lights down at him.
"I'm not with them! My name is..." Once again he was interrupted by the hitman only instead of being thrown across the room like last time he received a punch to the face that knocked him out with a single punch. Switching the lights off, the cloaked figure grabbed the corrupt detective collar and began dragging him across the warehouse and disappeared into the night.
After concluding their business at the warehouse, the cloaked figure stood on the edge of one of the buildings that overlooked said warehouse where Jimmy "The Butcher" Figgins men had been interrogating the corrupt detective that had been on his payroll.
From what he had seen the detective had a steady income with a comfortable $90.000 a year. It was more than enough to live on so did he really need more than that...or was avarice his sole motivation in life? From what he had seen that certainly seemed the case. He had seen what greed could do in his previous line of work; he knew that it was enough for people to betray the fundamental principles they had believed in all their lives.
Even with five hundred years between them humanity hadn't changed all that much...
"I have passed along everything we have to Internal Affairs regarding Victor Smith." A synthetic voice that had a distinct British female accent informed him. "The police are currently on their way." she explained to him. "Now would be a good time to vacate the premises before they arrive."
"Noted." He finally spoke just as sirens could be heard blaring out in the distance, alerting him that the police were on their way.
"I believe that now would be a good time to return home, Six." The voice suggested to the hooded figure. "You have a big day ahead you tomorrow...new job and all."
"Same job, different location." Six replied...still, she wasn't entirely wrong. It had been a couple of years now since she had created the Jericho Reach persona for him to allow him some semblance of a normal life now that he had been cut off from the life he once had. He had tried civilian life for a time...but after a few months he began to grow restless just sitting at home doing nothing but watching the tv...how people could so that day and day out and enjoy it was beyond him.
He knew that he couldn't join any armed forces around the world...after all he was still a loyal soldier of the UNSC...but it would be decades until that was formed in its most basic form let alone in the version that he was familiar with. It had been her idea for him to join the Police force, something he had been dead set against when she had suggested it too him.
But his time as a Headhunter and working for ONI were not really all that different from being a cop...the only distinctions were the people the he hunted had entire armies at their command and access to nucleolar weapons powerful enough to split entire planets if they went off; as ridiculous as it sounded there were times that he missed hunting down the Insurrections...but he quickly found that New York had more than enough to keep him occupied when he was off duty.
Shaking his head, the Spartan-III commando stopped his inner-monologue and returned to reality to see the Police were arriving on the scene. Giving the warehouse one final look, he quickly left the area and did as Dot suggested and headed back home to get ready for the next day when he would join the 99th precinct after being transferred there by Captain Raymond Holt. Exactly why he had personally asked for him to be transferred from the 7th to the 99th was unknown, hopefully he would get his answers tomorrow.
And cut! Well, here is the very first chapter of my Halo x Brooklyn 99 crossover like I promised. Hopefully it looks alright considering that I had to write it from the criminal's perspective rather than from Six's. But next chapter it will be from his and he'll meet the squad from the 99. Also, this takes place at the start of the first season.
Not much else to say other than I hope you enjoyed it.
And I'll try and update soon if it becomes popular which I'm hoping it does.