26

Aaron knew he wasn't dead.

The incessant ringing in his ears was enough to disprove it, coupled with the disorientation like he'd had his head dunked underwater. His eyes didn't function correctly, blurred with disjointed after images and discolored light. He reached out to find purchase, to gain control. There was none to be found. He attempted to backtrack his memory, wading through the scrambled static that he was in. He'd felt these effects before, albeit it felt like an eternity ago.

Think. Use your head. Don't panic.

He was with Damon and Diaz; that was for sure, he knew. Tunnels. Underground. Searching. Searching for what?

Jeez, why can't I friggin' remember?

A room! He could picture a room—dark, rank in smell, and so cold that it nibbled and bit at his exposed skin. Damon was talking, saying something about recovering medicine. Diaz was there, too; but she wasn't moving. Why? Something hit the floor, he recalled. There was a bang of some sort, a flash of light. That was the last thing he remembered. A bang. Light. But not too much light. It was quick, like a flash. The flash came first, then the bang, then the symptoms. A flash. A bang.

It was a stun grenade!

Aaron slowly regained his balance, leaning to his far right to grab one of the racks. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. The NV goggles had blocked the most of the flash, but his ears still rung. The real question was—who'd thrown the stun grenade? Damon was on his hands and knees, holding the left side of his ear with his hand. Aaron could hear him groaning. Diaz was where she was at the time of the blast, close to the door but hunched over and stumbling like she'd had too much to drink.

They weren't alone. Someone was inside with them.

There was motion in Aaron's peripheral. He turned to see, his entire range motion slowed to a crawl. Something was running towards him, a dark and blurry shape that moved like video that had a horrible frames per second count. He tried to react, his body unable to catch up with what his brain was processing. The dark figure slammed him against the rack. He felt pain in his abdomen and a vice grip on the back of his neck. A pair of sharp blows impacted his mid-section again. He doubled over, felt tension against his scalp.

Aaron was plunged into darkness, his NV goggles snatched from his head. He looked up, his senses rapt to attention. A silhouette ran for the exit against the faded light in the tunnel. He stumbled to his feet and reached for his sidearm—it wasn't there!

"Hey!" He shouted out to Damon and Naomi. "He's running for it."

Damon sprung to his feet, only to be pushed aside by the running shadow as Naomi only caught a glimpse before the intruder raced into the tunnel.

"He's got my goggles and my gun." Aaron went to hell Damon to his feet. "I can't see crap."

"I'll get him." Naomi didn't say another word and darted out of the room in pursuit.

Damon salvaged his weapon from the floor, shaking off the disorientation. "Stay close to me. C'mon, let's go." He hailed Naomi. "Diaz, where are you?"

"C Building tunnel." She sounded out of breath, her rapid footsteps echoing in the background. "I'm right on him!"

Damon moved into the tunnel with Aaron behind him. "Don't lose him. We're en route." His mind was reeling, everything happening so fast that he was running on autopilot. He began moving before his mind was aware of it, his legs carrying him forward. His pace was a steady run, fast enough to close the gap to Diaz but slow enough for Aaron to keep up in the darkness. This was it. The intruder had made himself known, and Damon knew right away the designation—enemy.

Naomi was in full sprint, tailing X the intruder through the tunnel that seemed longer than she originally thought. X was fast, faster than she imagined an injured person could move. Adrenaline was a helluva pain suppressant. She kicked into another gear, steadily closing in behind her target. In an instant, before Naomi could react, X suddenly cut left into an open doorway. She slid to a stop, turned, and went to venture through where X had gone. The moment she stepped into the doorway, there was muzzle flash—two shots, then another. Naomi pulled back, the rounds stitching the concrete behind her and spitting bits of material on the floor.

Naomi snatched her weapon from her waistband. If X wanted turn this into a firefight, she was happy to oblige. She knew what Damon said, but she wasn't about get shot just to play it safe. Counting down from three, she fired two blind shots into the room and rounded the corner in a low crouch. She slid to the nearest cover she could see, but there wasn't a chance to utilize it. X was right on top her in an instant. A pair of hands reached down and grabbed her right wrist, slamming her against the ground to loosen her grasp on the gun. Naomi maintained her grip, hunched her shoulders, and threw her weight into X.

The two of them went to the floor, Naomi wrenching her wrist free from her opponent. She tried to get her balance and stand, but an elbow crashed into her mid-section and kept her on the floor. Her grip loosened. The gun was kicked out of her hand. She heard it skid across the floor, hitting something out of sight. X was standing over her now, looking down with an obscured face with a baklava and Aaron's NV goggles. Naomi didn't recognize any distinguishing features, but she didn't have long to look. X had the gun pointed in her face. She focused on the barrel, waiting to see the flash that would be her last. There was hesitation, the gun shaking in X's hand with heavy breathing.

Footfalls echoed in the tunnel behind behind them, Damon's voice saying something in Naomi's earpiece that she wasn't paying attention to. X turned in the direction of the noise, the gun lowered. Naomi sprang forward, spearheading into X with her arms underneath the thighs. X was slammed into the floor and Naomi went for the gun, bending X's wrist and slapping it away with her left hand. The gun hit the floor, but X wasn't finished. Arms went around Naomi's neck as she was spun around, the grip firm and increasing. Her larynx was being crushed and her lungs felt like they were going to burst. Naomi lifted her legs as high as she could, firing her momentum forward and flipped X over her back. She dropped to her hands and knees, coughing and heaving for air.

X was up again, staggered, and began running toward the exit. Naomi shakily got to her feet, wondering just what fresh hell she'd gotten herself into. X was something she wasn't expecting. There was no fear, no hesitation to fight. If it came down to it, she would put X down. If they couldn't capture, then they might not have other options. X wasn't going down without force.

Damon had no idea where Diaz had gone. She wasn't answering her comms and there wasn't a trace of her. There were gunshots. He wouldn't assume the worst. Diaz was a capable soldier, if she'd ever refer to herself as such. If she wasn't dead, then she must've been engaged with the intruder. He wished there hadn't been any gunfire, but he doubted Diaz was the one who fired first. Sound carried down here, and if it didn't penetrate through the booming noise vented from engineering, then he was positive that someone may have heard it. That was the last thing they needed.

There was movement ahead, boots scraping and sliding against the floor. Damon and Aaron came to an immediate halt. A figure staggered into the tunnel, a hand pressed against the wall to maintain balance. It wasn't Diaz.

Damon raised his gun to aim, shoulders squared and feet apart. "Hands, jackass—hands!"

The dark, grainy figure in the NV light went still, head slowly turning to show a masked profile.

"Put your hands on your head and walked backwards to me," Damon ordered. He had the gun aimed at X's back and took a few steps forward. "You run, I shoot; it's that simple."

X, backed turned, walked backwards them with hands raised. Damon gestured to Aaron to make the collar. Aaron dug around in the pockets in his tactical pants, pulling out black zip-ties and slowly approaching X. He could only see the outline of X's body, the poor lighting providing little to no assistance to see details. All of this better had been worth it, he thought. He couldn't wait to identify this lunatic, wondering if they would even know who the person was.

"You're quite the mole, buddy." Aaron grabbed X's right hand and pulled it down. He leaned closer. "You won't be running this time—"

X's arm jerked free from Aaron's grasp, thrusting back into his nose. There was a wet pop as X spun around, shoving Aaron's stunned body into Damon's. The gun was swatted from the corporal's hands, followed by a kick into Aaron's groin. He yelped and buckled to his knees. Damon regained his balance, sweeping the floor with his eyes to find where his gun had landed. It was a meter away from his boots near the wall. He went to grab it, only to have it kicked halfway down the tunnel before he could. A fist went across his brow, nearly removing his goggles from his face. Another hit struck his torso—a kidney shot—that dropped him to a knee with a scream.

Damon held up his arms up to block the next hit, an incoming kick this time. Reflex took over. He launched off his feet pushed X up against the wall, circling around Aaron. He landed a clean hit across X's face and attempted to follow up for another strike. Too slow. X ducked under his swing, shoved him back, and nearly loosened his molars with a surprise roundhouse kick. Damon went to the floor in a daze. X grunted, hand gripping the midsection above the right hip.

Aaron eventually stood. He knew his nose was broken, the warm crimson liquid pouring from his nose and into his mouth. He spat out the excess blood and turned to face where X had been, only to barely see the coward making a run for it again. Naomi came out into the tunnel from the room, hands on her knees and groaning.

Aaron waddled over to her, his balls killing him. He set his hand on her shoulder, taking a painful knee so he could look up into her face. "Hey, you all right?"

Naomi grunted. "I'd be better if this pendejo wasn't a friggin' commando!" She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "Where'd he go?"

"Headed for the A Building tunnel, I think." Aaron shouted over his shoulder. "Vasher, you good?"

Damon only groaned in reply, steadily trying to get to his feet.

Naomi straightened up. "We can't let him reach A Building. He'll disappear." She pointed in Damon's general direction and began jogging away from them. "Collect the guns and meet me back at the exit. I'm going after him."

"Stay frosty, Diaz."

Naomi turned and sprinted away, cutting the corner into A tunnel. If that was the closest Aaron was going to come to tell her to be careful, the she'd take it. This hadn't even remotely turned out the way she imagined, but she had an opportunity to end it now. If she wasn't able to subdue X before they caught up with her, she'd tell them to blow ahole through the bastard.

When she rounded the next corner, X was already at the service ladder was beginning to ascend. Naomi burst into a rapid sprint, covering the distance so quick that she barely felt the floor beneath her boots. She leapt forward, grabbing X around the waist and removing the cabron from the ladder and onto the floor with a hard smack against the concrete.

"It's just me and you now!" Naomi crawled on top of X, hammering with two right jabs and then a left. X caught her fist before she could hit again, pulled her close, and lurched forward with a vicious headbutt. Naomi was forced back, the impact feeling as if her cheekbone had been shattered. She felt blood seep from her nose. X slowly sat up, grabbing Naomi by the front of her belt and yanked her forward to accept one forearm strike to the right side of her face. A punch came next, this one driving into the underside of her jaw that made her teeth click. Her vision was doubled, marred by the forceful impacts. She wouldn't be able to take another like that. A concussion, if she hadn't sustained one already, would ensue, and then probably blacking out. That wasn't going to happen.

Naomi pulled back her right leg as X tried to stand, launching her boot forward. Her boot blasted X in the chest. She scrambled to her feet, pushing X back to give herself space for a counter. X was relentless, staggering toward her with hands up and fists balled tight. Naomi leaned back from the first punch, missed her follow up, but landed her third. X stumbled back, recovered, and lashed out in a barrage head to body shots. Naomi guarded her head, cringing as her torso took the brunt of the punishment. As X geared back for another hit, Naomi landed a blow square in the throat. X regressed, sucking in air and then coughed violently. Naomi didn't waste time. With the remainder of her fading energy, she drove her knee into X's gut, grabbed a fistful of the baklava, and struck X across the right cheek. X went down hard, leaving the cloth in Naomi's hands.

X heaved for air on the floor, snatching off the NV goggles and throwing them aside. There was nothing left to give, not an ounce of fury or rage that could generate into more. Naomi had hoped so. She couldn't handle another round. Not even the Grunts had worn her out this much. She didn't even want to think about what her face looked like right now, let alone in a few hours. Jacen would undoubtedly give her that you just can't stay out of trouble look. This scumbag better had been worth the trouble.

"End of the line," she said. "Those guys you tuned up back there… they're UNSC. The good guys. I'm sure they'd love to chat. But me?" Naomi walked over and pressed her boot down on X's ankle hard. "I'm not the good guys, and my patience is microscopic right now. If you run again, I'm breaking your legs. Now get up."

Naomi removed her foot and took a step back as X struggled to stand. She eased her hand behind her back, curling her fingers around the hilt of a combat knife. The arteries would be first, but a warning jab between the ribs would suffice for now.

X was upright now, back turned and head hung low.

"Hands." Naomi kept her voice steady, all matter-of-fact. "And turn towards me… slowly."

X complied and turned around.

The grip around her combat knife loosened as Naomi's face dropped. Her mouth parted open, suddenly went dry. She blinked. Maybe she was concussed, her vision playing back some mutated image that her brain couldn't unscramble. It didn't matter how much she wanted to deceive herself; there was no denying that her head was fine and her eyes weren't lying. It was real, and the grip around the knife suddenly grew white-knuckle type.

X managed a ragged smirk with a minuscule wave. "Hey, Naomi."

It happened before Naomi was even aware of it, a tidal wave of primal fuel that rocketed through her body. She erupted, blasting X with a hit that rivaled the slug of a MAC round. X's body went limp and crashed to the floor, just as Aaron and Damon raced around the corner with guns raised. They paused instantly, marking the motionless body at Naomi's feet.

Aaron lowered his gun. "Holy hell, Diaz! What'd you do? Is he dead?"

Naomi averted her eyes from the body and turned her back. "She's alive."

Damon looked at her. "She?" He stepped around Naomi, taking a knee beside the body to see an unconscious Asian woman that instantly drained the life out of his face. A jolt went up his spine, his hairs standing on end. His tongue felt thick and heavy. He couldn't form words.

Aaron looked at the woman in the light beaming down from the open hatch above. He dropped his gun