CHAPTER 5: OPERATION LEARNING CURVE

1911 Hours, August 5, 2557 (Military Calendar) / Unknown System, Planet Remnant, Continent of Sanus

The Master Chief sat on a log in a hunched position. His head was raised to stare at his nine o'clock, which was where his latest acquaintance laid resting. He had maintained a constant watch over her for the past twenty one hours. He ate one once during that timespan, enough food to constitute an MRE and drank a bottle of water as well. Otherwise, he observed her condition and guarded the mouth of the cave they were taking shelter in.

This place afforded him a mixed bag in terms of tactical viability. One one hand, there was only one feasible way for an enemy to attack him: the single entrance. That advantage was also a weakness. It was his only means of exit and it wasn't the most spacious. Still, for the sake of reduced visibility, it was ideal and so far, there had been nothing in the way of contact with Grimm.

The spartan, still as stone, considered his newest acquisition carefully. Judging from her features, she didn't look to be that much older than him prior to him receiving his physical augmentations, probably no older than fifteen. He estimated her standing height to be one hundred and fifty-five centimeters and her weight to be roughly fifty-five kilograms. Based on all that information alone, her ability to survive against the Grimm was nearly zero, at least that's what logic told him.

However, from her physical state, it was clear that she had been in a drawn-out engagement with the Grimm prior to his sighting of her. The only other option that was remotely viable in relation to her survival was that she was training to become a huntress. The reason he could point to her being a combatant of any kind was that her belt contained quite a few bullets that looked to be used in a sniper rifle, but not one that he was familiar with. Her other possessions included a few granola bars, a small canteen of water, and a scroll that looked similar to his own. He had yet to access her device simply because he had no need to do so. If he needed information from her, he would ask her.

Additionally, he wasn't quite comfortable with Remnant's technology yet and he didn't care much to test the limits of his knowledge. He knew basic operation of his own scroll and that sufficed for the time being.

What the Chief was interested in was what she was doing out here to begin with. There was no reason for any huntress in training to be out here other than to potentially eliminate hordes of Grimm, but the last he checked, sightings of packs were relatively sparse and usually, the types and age indicated a threat that could easily be dealt with by village defenses. His best hypothesis was that she was conducting a training exercise, perhaps gaining some live experience.

But assuming that to be the case, it made no sense for her to travel alone. To fight alone was to leave oneself exposed to potential enemy contact at all times, especially in the wild areas untamed by the Kingdom of Vale and the scattered villages. It wouldn't be so much of a problem if she was a certified and experienced huntress, but given her age, it seemed highly unlikely that she was even in the same league as a veteran huntress. The most likely case was that she was intending to gain some experience and bit off more than she could chew, in which case travelling with a seasoned veteran would have make more sense.

Spartan 117 had all sorts of questions, but until she woke up, he wouldn't be getting any answers by pure speculation, which was useless at this time, so he quickly banished any train of thought that wouldn't yield any useful information.

Right now, his immediate concern was watching over her health. With the medical supplies that he possessed, he had been able to treat all of her wounds. While none of her injuries sustained had been crippling or life-threatening, there were so many wounds that she had most likely been running on nothing but willpower and adrenaline. Eventually, blood loss had caught up to her and her body had just shut down she; sheer exhaustion was also a likely contributing factor.

That was his current diagnosis of her condition and the only thing he was capable of was closing her wounds and stopping the bleeding. He could only hope that an infection wouldn't take hold, otherwise this could turn unpleasant. So far, there had been no indication of any such thing occurring, but he preserved his vigil.

John did note that the healing process looked to be accelerating much faster than what was considered to be normal for a human. At first, he couldn't explain this because based on his knowledge, these sorts of injuries could take a person out of commission for the better part of weeks, maybe even months, yet it looked like this girl could be fully recovered in another day or two.

It was then that he recalled a bit of information regarding huntsmen and huntresses: they wielded aura, and as such, they were capable of healing from even severe wounds in many cases. Apparently, it wasn't unheard of for Grimm killers to be back on the front lines within a week of a life-threatening injury.

And speaking of health, the Master Chief had constantly been watching his own health in the past couple of weeks. While he had made a full recovery and was now operating at his best, his rapid recovery was unexpected. Even accounting for his augmented body's ability to decrease the time to fully operational conditions, the time it took in this case was very fast. Granted, the injuries he had sustained during his fight against the Didact weren't extreme, they were far from light grazes.

Yet another question for his mind to ponder on and now he was having to constantly remind himself to never wander too far from the present. He had one job to do: protect this girl until she was able to move on her own.

The spartan's enhanced hearing was picking up every little noise within this cave and quite a few noises from the outside. The snapping and crackling of the fire was the most prevalent and it was mere background noise while his ears focused exclusively on what was coming from outside. The only other sound that was noticeable was chirping from the crickets, a clear indicator that it was now nighttime. It was as close to a peaceful atmosphere as it could get out here.

He shifted his helmeted head to where the girl lay. She was moving a little bit, but otherwise didn't stir. It looked like she wasn't suffering anything like a nightmare, but it was far from the most pleasant expression he had seen on a sleeping face. She might very well be recalling the near-death experience.

If that was so, then it wouldn't be all that surprising. John could remember many of his close brushes against death in vivid detail. They served as a reminder to him: even the most trained, skilled, and experienced soldier could fall in battle. All it took was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Death didn't discriminate in regards to whom it took with it. Young and old, smart and stupid, strong and weak, there was no method to how the dead were chosen. The only certainty was that it could happen to anyone at any time without warning. Those that survived so many near-death experiences were the 'lucky' ones.

But John could never see his survival as anything but a sort of curse, something that he would always have with him no matter where he went. After all, there were only a handful of Spartan-II's still officially active, himself included and their numbers could only grow smaller as time passed.

Would he be the last one?

The man in MJOLNIR armor clenched his right fist tight, so much so that he could feel the pressure he was exerting. For the briefest moment, he felt the urge to smash his fist into something. It might make him feel better, bring him a momentary feeling of relief however useless in the grand scheme, but he didn't. He was taught to never do anything without a good reason.

What would momentary anger accomplish for him?

The Master Chief drew some deep breaths in and out. All this time spent on Remnant was clearly taking its toll on him. The number of times he could feel his mind wander into territory that he had no reason to be in was increasing and that was dangerous. If he couldn't properly control himself, he might get himself killed faster.

As much as he despised his 'luck' keeping him alive, it would be a huge disgrace to his fellow Spartan-II's if he died on account of his own inability to keep himself rational and sane.

Also, his own pride wouldn't allow him to lose any fight, especially not with himself. He would win, just like he always did.

Spartan 117 rose from his seated position, holding his knife in one hand and his pistol in the other, he stood five meters from the mouth of the cave and stood in the center of the cave, waiting for the enemy that might or might not come.

Halo - - - RWBY

1830 Hours, August 6, 2557 (Military Calendar)

Ruby felt her eyes flutter open. When she did, she looked up at the dark ceiling above her. The first thought that she consciously processed was how rocky it looked, like the roof of a cave.

What is this place? Ruby struggled to get her bearings. Am I dead?

As she attempted to determine this, she groaned lightly as a slight jolt of pain was felt against her back. If she was dead and in a place with no more suffering, then shouldn't pain be an obsolete concept?

The reaper then decided that she had to be alive, otherwise she wouldn't be in such a dark place, but maybe she had gone under instead and maybe that was why things were so irrepressibly drab and awful.

The girl tried to move her arm and slowly, the limb responded, moving so that it was in her eyesight. There was nothing unusual about the sight. It was her arm and there didn't appear to be anything that she ought to be worried about.

Then she tried to replay the events that had led her to this moment.

Her self-appointed mission to exterminate high-level Grimm.

Her unexpected encounter with the Alpha pack.

Losing Crescent Rose.

Barely keeping herself alive.

Collapsing to the ground.

It all came rushing back to her and she felt panic course through her veins. This caused her to sit up straight as she began to breathe heavily. She should definitely be dead. She couldn't have possibly survived.

Then how had she gotten here?

Ruby concentrated on the memories again. The last clear picture she could bring up was her vision blurring into darkness, her hearing dulling to silence, but there seemed to be one thing she was missing.

That's right.

"Something big and green." Ruby whispered to herself. "Was that armor?"

"You're awake." A deep, masculine voice sounded. "Good."

At first, she jumped a bit in surprise, spinning her head to face the person who she had just heard. She hadn't noticed before, but there was a fire nearby, and she could feel its warmth against her skin. The light it provided forced her to squint her eyes before slowly adjusting. Once her vision came back to her in full, she couldn't help but gasp at the sight before her.

Sitting on a nearby log was what looked to be some kind of futuristic-looking armor. It was unlike anything she had ever seen and she did a LOT of research on the latest in weapons, gadgets, and technology. It was olive-green from head to toe with a golden visor and some hints of black where there wasn't armor. The figure looked to be massive, definitely much bigger than herself, perhaps even more than her own father and Uncle Qrow.

The figure met her eyes with the visor staring back at her. It was unnerving not being able to look into a pair of eyes. She couldn't even be sure if she was even looking at something living.

"Are you a robot?" Ruby couldn't help but blurt that out. "Or an A.I. of sorts?"

"No." A single word, but clearly stated and without room for doubt. "I am human, just like you."

"Oh." Ruby nodded in acceptance. "So that's your armor?"

"Yes." Simple and to the point. "What's your name?"

"Um, my name?" Ruby felt herself pause in thought. "Um, why do you want to know?"

"Because I have no way of addressing you otherwise." The man spoke plainly. "Unless there's a problem?"

"Nonono!" Ruby shook her head and waved her hands. "I'm Ruby Rose! That's my name, so yeah!"

A moment after she spilled those words, she felt herself coughing, and it was then that she realized just how dry her throat had felt. She must've been out for quite some time. Her body felt incredibly sluggish now. How had she just done what she had done?

"You need water." The man went to her side and retrieved her water bottle. "Drink this, but only take small sips. Don't overdo it."

With a gingerly grip, the silver-eyed girl tipped the container to her mouth, letting a cold sensation fall against her lips. She wanted to have more, but she heeded the advice given to her and moderated her intake. She counted for about ten seconds, then drank again. She repeated this cycle several times over.

After the red reader felt sufficiently hydrated, she put down the bottle and looked to him.

"You saved me." Ruby smiled at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nodded his head. "But if I may ask, what were you doing out here by yourself?"

"I was just trying to level up." Ruby looked down at her folded hands in shame. "My older sister made fun of me for not being as skilled as her in hunting Grimm, so I thought I'd try to prove her wrong. Guess that didn't work out."

"No, it didn't. You shouldn't have wandered this far into the wilds on your own." The armored man scolded her. "If I didn't spot you when I did, you would have died."

"I know." Ruby said in a resigned tone. "But I just wanted to do my part, make my family proud, you know?"

"There is no shame in proving yourself, but you must always be aware of your limits." He calmly stated. "Le this be a lesson."

"Yeah." Ruby swallowed, feeling a slight lump in her throat.

Normally, whenever she said those words, it usually meant that next time, she would go out and do something several times worse, but those times didn't have her coming face to face with death. The worst that had happened the previous times was a scratch or two, maybe a light sprain one time. This was something else entirely.

After all of that training and skill she had cultivated and this was the best that she could muster? How could she expect to become a hero like the ones in the fairy tales if she couldn't take down threats like this by herself? How could she be expected to save anyone if she couldn't save herself?

"I guess that I'm not as good as I thought." Ruby hugged her legs to her chest and bowed her head. "I'm still just garbage."

Maybe a small part of her wanted her savior to say some words of encouragement to her, make her pick herself up and get back on track because she certainly was lacking her old spirit. Gods knew that she needed something to latch onto. She believed in hope so much that she wanted to become home itself, just like any good hero would.

Instead of words of encouragement, she instead saw him handing her something, a small bag full of what looked to be a well-rationed meal.

"Eat this." He told her.

Her stomach growled at the sight and she forgot her anguish. Tearing into the bag, she ate the first thing that her hands grabbed. It was meat, that much she knew for sure, but she couldn't tell what kind, nor could she distinguish a flavor. Frankly, all of that didn't matter. It was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten at this time. She approached everything else the same way, only intent on satiating her hunger and nothing else.

"Slow down." He gently grasped her wrist. "Your system needs to get used to consuming food."

"But I'm hungry!" Ruby whined.

"Eat. Slowly." His tone was more authoritative.

Ruby felt a slight shiver. "O-okay."

Doing her best to restrain herself, she ate the rest of her meal in silence, watching him from the corner of her eyes as his visor continued to stare at her. She wasn't used to being observed like this. Certainly, there were times that Yang could get awfully overprotective, but not quite like this.

And to make matters even more unnerving, he remained still as a statue. He was in a kneeled position, one arm hanging by his side while the other was on his bent knee. His helmet was tilted down enough to look her in the eye. If only she could see a human face. He said that he was human, but it was hard to tell if he really was. No one that she knew could ever hold still like this. It just wasn't possible.

At this rate, the only form of communication that they would have was a staring contest and this had to be the most awkward one she had ever had yet. She needed to break the ice somehow.

But the question was how to start. She wasn't exactly good at conversation or making new friends to begin with and that was with people with normal personalities and traits. Now she was dealing with a possibly-human armored thing with no indicator of the human part.

Okay, well, he knew her name. He had asked as much, so maybe that would be an ideal place to start.

"What's your name?" Ruby squeaked out, then shut her eyes.

Silence for a few seconds, then an answer. "Call me Master Chief."

The reaper opened her eyes again, then looked back at him. "Master Chief?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Or Chief for short."

That wasn't his name, was it?

RWBY - - - Halo

TIME:DATE RECORD [[ERROR]]ANOMALY\Date Unknown\Location Unknown

John knew what it was like when he was between cryo and consciousness. It wasn't a true dream because more often than not, he could remember the details before he returned to the physical world. Generally speaking, it was hard for any person to retain vivid and clear details of a dream when they slept. Bits and pieces might come to mind, but for the most part, that was all that could be recalled.

This felt like one of those moments, a time where his mind was actually dreaming. He had been getting more sleep recently due to having no access to a cryo chamber, thus dreams were popping up more and more.

This felt far more tangible than any dream he had ever experienced before. Although the whiteness around him blinded him to his surroundings, he could look down and see his gauntlets and his armored body. He could feel MJOLNIR encasing his body completely. When he breathed, he could feel the quality of the air his suit provided. All of these were details that he felt when he was awake and fighting.

The Master Chief took one step forward and felt solid ground, yet he couldn't see the surface he was walking on. His next step was just as solid as the first, but it was still unclear what he was walking on. When he attempted to use MJOLNIR's internal systems to help him navigate, he came back with nothing concrete. His scanners, his sensors, everything seemed to be non-functional.

At first, he was frustrated with this development, but then chose not to dwell on it for long. He would find his own way out one way or another. He always found a way.

The spartan walked at a steady pace, partially in order to watch for potential threats, but also to let his senses stretch out to find something that might help him navigate this place. With nothing in the way of information, he just had to trust his instincts to find something and he would have to make it work for him.

The sound of his boots clinking seemed to indicate that he was on a metal surface. That fact alone told him more than a few things about where he could be. The places that featured metal as a walking surface were ships, space stations, and fortified military installations of the UNSC. Those were the three he was most familiar with. Another alternative was that he was somewhere near a Forerunner structure.

As the numerous scenarios ran through his head, his sight began to shape into something more concrete. It was the familiar sight of dull grey metal. At face value, it wasn't anything all that special to look at. What was presented was merely a wall of gun-metal grey and little more. To some, it meant little.

To the supersoldier, he would recognize this sight anywhere; it was the outline of the hull of a UNSC ship, and judging by the details and the general outline, it looked like this was a Halcyon-class light cruiser. He could discern that much.

But he couldn't see the name of the vessel. Where there was usually a designation there was nothing there. His sensors were not picking up a friendly identification either nor was there any indication of radio communications going through.

John proceeded forward nonetheless. This was the only sight that he saw in this blinding white. It would suffice for a start. He sprinted forward, pushing him into speeds impossible for any normal human.

The distance between himself and the ship became smaller. As it did, he noticed that while he was indeed closer, the angle that he was seeing the ship seemed to be moving sharply upward. Unless he was mistaken, he would soon be entering through an empty lifepod dock. This made no sense.

He had to remind himself that dreams often had no logic to them.

The Master Chief only stopped briefly to scrape his hand over the metal of the ship. The gesture was fleeting and almost pointless, but it brought with it a sense of nostalgia and familiarity. His rank denoted him as part of the navy. Even though ship combat wasn't part of his duties as a Spartan-II, he knew quite well. What time wasn't spent planetside was spent on ships either training or in cryosleep.

He ventured deeply into the halls. Upon entry, he noticed a lack of any signs of life. There was power being supplied to the ship, that much he could see judging from the status lights and the illumination of the halls. What the ship was lacking was any sort of personnel activity. There was not a hint of a sailor or a marine. This was highly unusual. Even in the more obscure and lesser-used parts of a ship, there was always some indicator of activity.

Spartan 117 felt his boots carry him to the nearest armory according to his memory of the layout of halcyon-class cruisers. He passed through some doors, all of which opened at his physical presence. Not a single human presence was detected as he instinctively charted a path.

He moved a couple of levels up, took one elevator, made two right turns and five left turns, walked about 200 meters of straight hallways, and then he reached the armor station. The markings and signs were abundantly clear about where he was.

John let the door slide open and what he found was far from what he needed. What should have been a room full of arms and ammunition was but a bare room. There wasn't even a trace of round anywhere. It was as if this place had been picked clean and then someone came back to triple check that nothing had been left behind.

But was there anyone else but himself? If that were so and assuming they came and took all the weapons, what was there to fight?

Deciding that doing his own search wouldn't hurt, he started from the entrance of the armory and worked his back to the door at the back. Again, his efforts turned out with a negative on weapons.

The Chief realized that he was holding his breath. He let out a breath. Then he noticed his hands clenched into fists. He let his hands to slack. Also, he felt stiffness in his shoulders and not the good kind. He loosened himself for a more optimal combat readiness.

This wasn't the only armory in the ship. There were dozens of other scattered throughout the ship. All he had to do was search them all until he found a weapon. Surely, all of them couldn't be barren like this one.

He turned to leave only to realize that the door he had entered from was glowing red, indicating that it was locked. To his other side, the opposite door also flashed the same color. He was effectively trapped.

No, he just needed to create his own way forward. Although it was far from a recommended course of action, he would simply bust his own way through. It wasn't anything new to him and it seemed like there would be no one to know or care what he did.

Taking a step back, he reared his fist and threw it forward with all the momentum that he could and heard metal dent metal.

That would be the only time he would strike the locked door.

A slight sound echoed throughout the room. It lasted only for a little more than half a second, but it was clear and crisp.

Turning his head to look around him, he saw nothing, but he knew that he was not mistaken. Even though silence reigned, he felt his guard rising. Something else was here with him and if it was hiding, then it clearly didn't carry friendly intent.

The spartan checked his motion sensors, finding no enemy contacts. Facing his body back to the center of the armory, he trained all of his human senses on finding the mysterious presence.

As his eyes did a sweep, he caught something in his sight. It was a mass that he didn't remember being present before. With urgency in his steps, he dashed over to investigate.

Situated between the two weapon racks islands was a girl of black hair wearing a dress of black and red that was torn and dirty. She looked familiar.

That's right. Her name was Ruby Rose. He had saved her from-

A warning in the back of his mind told him to duck and he trusted in it, hunching down, and then feeling a slight current of wind above him. Doing a roll to his side, he faced the enemy.

An Ursa.

John knew he had to fight, but he had to protect Ruby. She didn't look to be awakening, remaining still.

What to do?

His eyes noticed a glean at his feet. He looked down to a very welcome sight.

An MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System.

Without another thought, he grabbed the assault rifle and hoisted it up. His HUD displayed a full clip. It would have to do.

The Grimm roared in challenge.

The spartan took aim.

Halo - - - RWBY

0800 Hours, August 8, 2558 (Military Calendar)

Ruby opened her eyes to the sight of sunlight. Taking a minute to wake up her mind, she lifted herself from her makeshift bedding. It was hardly as comfortable as her bed, but at least this time she had found a serviceable pillow to rest her head against.

It was the Chief's pack.

For one odd reason or another, she couldn't pry his real name out of him. Then again, the red reaper hadn't made much of an effort to begin with. It was clear that once he stated what he wished to be called, he didn't want to leave room for further discussion. That was the feeling that she got at least.

Which was sort of weird to Ruby. Sure, she wasn't all that much better in the social department, but she would give her name. Even she knew that this was common sense. Who didn't know that?

Apparently, one person.

No, she wouldn't judge him. That wasn't what she did. Besides, who was she to judge him when he had saved her life?

Plus, he had all sorts of cool weapons and his armor looked far too advanced to be something that could be made by any civilians. It had to be a military set and that naturally led her mind to assume it was Atlas tech.

She had to as him about it and speak of the devil, there he was guarding the cave entrance.

"Good morning, Chief!" Ruby called out to him.

"Morning." The man said, turning himself to face her.

She had her questions in mind, but then she noticed something even more awesome. He held in his hands a black rifle that looked all kinds of mean and kick butt.

Did he always have that? She didn't remember him carrying that on him and she didn't remember it lying anywhere in the cave?

"So cool!" Ruby leaped forward to get a closer look. "What's this weapon? What's it called?"

"It's an MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System." The Master Chief answered her.

"That's it name?" Ruby tried to wrap her head around it. "The MA5-what now?"

"You can call it an assault rifle for short." He spoke. "I'm assuming that you know what that is."

"Sure, but nothing like this!" Ruby gazed at it. "What kind of ammunition does it use?! How did you make it?! Can I try it out?!"

"First answer, this weapon uses 7.62 x 51 milimeter rounds." The Chief shot off answers. "Second answer, I didn't make it. Third answer, no."

"But I want to!" Ruby pleaded. "Pretty please with strawberries on top?!"

"No." He shut her down once again.

"Why?!" Ruby felt her entire world crumbling.

"You have not been properly trained to use it. Thus, I cannot entrust you to use it in any given situation."

"So can you teach me?"

"Yes."

"Then teach me."

"Why are you so interested?"

"Because I love weapons! That's what I live for. Since I don't have Crescent Rose with me, I need some other way to get my fix."

"Crescent Rose?"

"That's the name of my weapon. You should name yours too."

"No."

"NO?! But weapons are your best friend, an extension of yourself!"

"Weapons are expendable pieces of equipment."

"How can you say that?"

Clearly, the Chief needed to learn the importance of becoming best friends with your weapon. It was the greatest thing in the whole entire world.

At least, Ruby liked to think so.

Many of you have been speculating as to how the Master Chief will achieve a level of combat readiness that is appropriate for his badassery and I think I've found the solution. It's been there all along and I didn't even realize it. For those of you who are confused, I'll give you a hint: there is a particular scene in which the John receives something very special which contains a lot of untapped potential. In any case, that's something to think on.

Moving on, Ruby is still the same weapons nerd. Just like in canon, I want to make sure that her defining traits are still there. In this way, Ruby's still recognizeable, but she's going to develop along a far different path. In this way, she's going to be the same as her canon counterpart, but the steps will be different.

The Master Chief is also dealing with his own internal struggles. Bear in mind that he's never had much time to process his own emotiosn that's he's been bottling up so now that he's coming to grips with his own humanity, it's a struggle because he's never had anyone to teach him how to deal with them. Cortana may have understood him better than most and she probably did help him emotionally, but not even she had given him the means to accept his humanity.

I think that's enough for all of you to think about.

What did you all think? Feedback is appreciated regarding any aspect of the story.

As always, thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

"I don't need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better."

Plutarch