Ch.1 The Eye of the Storm

John surveyed his surroundings. He was in a long dark hallway that held a green mist and an awful smell. Each side had doors that led down to a bright green light. He slowly walked towards the light. Just as he passed the first door it opened, revealing a mutilated body of Captain Keyes.

" John," he moaned. " Why didn't you save me? Look what you've done to me!"

And with that last word flood poured out of his mouth and attacked John. He reached for his Battle rifle, but it wasn't there. Neither was the twin SMGs or grenades that he usually carried. He looked at his body and only saw skin. He was naked with none of his protective MLOJNIR armor.

Not knowing what else to do, he fought with his fists and his feet, crushing the slimy creatures. After eternity he finished off the last flood and continued on.

Yet, as he passed each door it would open, revealing the mutilated bodies of every person he had known. From those bodies the flood poured out and enveloped him. Though he fought them for hours, fear keeping him from tiring. Just as he had fought off a first wave, another would engulf him and attempt to take him down. As he fought, the bodies of his friends rose and slowly began to walk towards him, tentacles sprouting from their chests.

" John," they would murmur. " You should have died on Halo. You cannot escape your destiny. Come with us and join us as we break your shackles and become free!"

" No!" John would yell. " I will never become part of the flood. I am Spartan 117, Master Chief, a member of the Spartan II project. I will not succumb…I will not…"

" Die!"

Jumping out of his bed with a sudden impulse, he snatched his battle rifle and held it, his finger barely controlled from pressing the trigger. Perspiration was on his face as his heart raced. After checking to ensure there were no targets in the vicinity, he lowered his rifle. Another nightmare.

Every night he had the same nightmare. He had always been Master Chief, protected by his shielded armor and enhanced fighting skills. Yet his worst fears mixed with his past experiences had bred a new form of fear that constantly haunted him.

It had been a week since that nightmare on Halo. Master chief had been drifting in a broken covenant ship after his escape from the planet and had been picked up by a UNSC Halcyon-class Battleship named Atlanta. The ship along with two Avalon class Carriers Falcon and Diehard had been on a trajectory course towards one of the outer colonies that had requested help. A huge covenant force had landed on the colony and was wreaking havoc.

Admiral Timberlake, leader of this operation, did not want another occurrence similar to the demise of planet Reach to happen. The two Avalon-class ships had been filled with MBT Scorpion tanks, Warthogs, Pelicans and an arsenal of weapons ranging from heavy machine guns to rocket launchers. Each ship carried approximately forty personnel and sixty marines. The main battleship carried twenty personnel and thirty marines. The admiral had pulled out all the works.

Unlike regular UNSC ships, the three ships were built much differently for combat. The two huge carrier ships carried no weapons and had four thrusters. It was designed to carry a huge amount of military weapons and bring them to a rendezvous at extreme speed. The main battleship was much smaller than the carriers but heavily armed. With two small MAC guns and approximately twenty archer pods filled with missiles on both sides, it also had a mount on the top that held exactly ten high-powered rockets that had better speed and distance but not as much "punch" as the MAC bolts. They were nicknamed " mini-macs".

Master Chief hated riding in ships. Though lightly trained in the statistics and controls of various UNSC ships, he had never felt the control of power he usually felt when his he fought on ground. Yet, as a highly trained warrior he hid his discomfort and isolated himself in his chamber, cleaning out the barrel of his BR55 Battle rifle.

Just as he had finished jamming in a fresh magazine two marines entered his room. He vaguely remembered the scrawny young soldier as Robert McGee, a corporal who looked like he would wet his pants every time he saw the Master Chief. When the Master Chief had first boarded the carrier the hyperactive soldier had immediately begged him for an autograph.

At first thinking that the boy was a lunatic, the muscle-bound soldier had patted him on the head and given him one of his empty SMG magazines. The boy's yell over such a trifle gift had confirmed the Master Chief's belief that the boy had simply cracked. Unfortunately the boy had continued to pester him with overflowing adulation and constant squeals for an autograph. An empty shotgun shell was his one ticket to a bit of quiet respite.

The one next to him was a tough looking ODST named Chris Onfrey. Though nicknamed Jackhammer by his fellow ODST Hell-jumpers, Robert often liked to modify his full name to " piss on me". He cast a surly look over at the Master Chief and cracked his knuckles. The Master Chief recalled how he had engaged four of the soldiers during his workout at the gym years back. He had killed three of them and severely wounded the fourth. That episode, plus his achievements against the Covenant, conjured a mixture of hate and jealousy that most ODSTs had against him. Chris was not an exception.

" Well, well," Chris sneered, " The great Spartan. Hanging in his own room because he thinks he's too good for everyone else. Just cause you were part of that freak experiment that created all those other bastards and got those enhancements, you think you're the big man around here huh?"

Though not easily intimidated and used to many of the ODST soldiers' insults, any mention of his former comrades always struck a chord with him. Fragments littered the floor as he accidentally crushed one of the 9.5mm bullets he had been fitting into a magazine.

Though slightly intimidated by the strength that the Master Chief had used to crush the metal bullet, the ODST plunged on in his rantings against him. " I've read files about how your experiment started. Little kids abducted and trained so hard that only half of them survived. And then those freak experiments that make you so fake. You got all those powers and skills for free. And all of you still got killed on that planet Reach. Such weaklings, no wonder only one of you is still alive."

The Master Chief looked up from his work at the ODST. His muscles were screaming to charge at the men and pound him into pulp. With a few deep breaths and focus on his inner strength he slowly calmed.

" I'm sorry, I couldn't hear all that informative detail that you were telling me due to my interest on your pimple." Indeed, in the center of Chris's nose was a huge pimple. The ODST reddened in anger.

" Judging by your age, your baldness, your attitude and the pimple, I surmise that you have never gotten laid or even had a relationship with a woman. Or for the matter, even a man," stated Master Chief.

With a roar, Chris lunged for the Spartan, intending to deal out his ideal form of punishment. Without batting an eyelash, the Spartan reached back and smashed the butt of his rifle right into the ODST'S face. Blood squirted from his nostrils as his nose cracked from the impact.

" ARGH! You bitch! What the hell did you do to my nose!" screamed the Chris as he attempted to stem the flow of blood.

" Hoping that the impact popped your pimple," replied the Master Chief. " I hope I've done you a great favor by ridding you of that pimple and increasing your chances of intimacy with a woman. Or a guy."

Chris sprinted out of the room, still swearing as he headed to the medical unit. Robert, who had watched the whole exchange with his mouth open, walked over to the Spartan as he began to load rockets into his rocket launcher.

" Would this be a bad time to ask for an autograph Chief," he muttered. " If you're busy that's all right I can…"

With an audible sigh, the Spartan grabbed a broken rocket that had leaked out all its "filling" and handed it single-handedly to the marine. With a cry of glee the boy began to cheer as he slowly waddled with his heavy new present out of the room, giving constant praise and thanks as he managed to reach the stairs and slowly clamber up. His grunts and wheezes slowly receded and the Spartan went back to fixing and loading his weapons.

Just as he was finishing adding all his shells into his pump-action shotgun, the whole ship shook. Sirens began to wail as personnel and marines began to sprint across the stairs and cat walks. With amazing speed the Spartan sprinted across the docking bay and up the stairs until he reached the control room. Just as he entered, the ship vibrated.

Admiral Timberlake and a sergeant were conversing in whispered tones. Personnel were frantically scanning their computers and searching for the cause of the disturbance. Watching the screen, the Spartan's heart literally froze as he viewed the main screen.

The Covenant had found them.