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.
Jestalnaker94000: That he is. Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
Chadbunger: Six doesn't have a dog at the minute but I am planning on getting him one eventually, just haven't decided what breed yet.
Kamikage86: It all depends on whether I make the Fast and Furious universe the Haloverse but in the past or as an alternate universe. If it's the latter than there won't be any Forerunner/Ancient human technology unless they're transported to that universe.
Mckenleymagarcenio: No Huragok in this version since I felt like it was redundant as Six has a Smart A.I Auntie Dot with him.
Guest: That I did! I absolutely loved that cutscene in the game and had to incorporate it somehow.
Guest: Ignoring that fact that they're seldom mentioned in the expanded universe, they both would have a connection with Six since all three of them are from Beta Company making them siblings. Something that always irked me about Six and Kat's interactions in the game. The two of them should have known each other beforehand.
Kiran Punnoose: To be honest I wanted a visual depiction of his house that people could use since my descriptions were probably piss poor when describing his home.
While I didn't want to spoil anything, Blilkins may recruit Six to take down the villain in the second Fast and Furious movie in exchange for wiping criminal record of one of people that were involved in the hijackings, which Six would agree too knowing that Mia misses them. It'll either be Leon or Letty to begin with since the former is like a little brother to her and the latter is her childhood friend.
Also, from what I gathered Dom is meant to be around twenty-four to twenty-five in the first film, which makes his relationship with Letty a little question since Mia claims that when Letty turned sixteen, she got his attention and since Letty is meant to be nineteen in the first film then he would've been twenty-one when she was sixteen.
And Mia is meant to be around twenty-three, the others being of a similar age.
Seros109: I'm not disagreeing. But right now, Six is long beyond caring at this point. He's become vengeful, bitter, a shell of what he once was. All he wants is criminals to suffer as much as they can. Nothing else at this point really matters to him hence why he didn't speak to Mia when the two were alone together.
Code Viper: Call me an idiot but I never once made that connection but now that It's in my head I can't let it go. I'd imagine that the Shaws could be related to Tobias Fleming Shaw since they're all British.
Guest: It might come across a little forced, but without Dot's encouragement I can't really see Six wanting to spend time with anyone.
Freelancer24110: I am planning to. However, I trying to decide whether I should create a Halo x Mass Effect story that has Six and Dot years after the fall of Reach transported to the Mass Effect universe with Gen-3 armour and maybe a ship of their own. Or have all of Noble Team survive Reach and are transported to the Mass Effect universe ten years before the first game allowing them to settle in and set up a UNSC outpost.
Chapter 7.
The sound of the waves crashing in the distance reverberated throughout the Port of San Francisco as a white 2004 BMW M3 drove through the docks and headed towards where the warehouses were situated at the back, the bright headlights cutting through both the perpetual darkness and the thick fog that came in from across the ocean. After a few minutes of navigating around the docks, the driver of the BMW finally reached their destination.
Pulling up in front of one of the biggest warehouses at the docks, one of the two-armed security guards that were on his payroll said nothing and simply hit the switch to open up the door. Once it was opened, the BMW headed inside the building while the guard hit the switch again closing the door, following him in, and pulled up alongside the trucks that were being filled with crates.
Applying the handbrake and switching the engine off, Detective Arnold Flass opened the door and exited the BMW.
Flass had short blonde hair that was styled in military fashion, a haircut he had kept since his Green Beret days, cold blue eyes, a typical California tan and clean shaven and towered over everybody inside of the warehouse standing at a massive 6'6, which he used to his advantage. He was wearing a long buttoned up beige trench coat that did very little to hide his large shoulders and muscular build, black slacks, and polished dress shoes.
Closing the door, a bang reverberated throughout the warehouse drawing everyone's attention as they stopped what they were doing briefly and looked at him getting a smirk from the detective. Good! They all knew who was in charge.
As they returned to what they were doing, Flass scanned the room. In the centre of the room there were a series of trucks that were being filled with crates by the workers, illegal immigrants that he had pulled from the Tenderloin area and threatened to deport if they refused to help...after all if they wanted to stay in his country, his city, then they were going to have to pull their weight; after all there was no such thing as a free lunch.
On the ground floor there were several armed guards that he employed to watch over his business and discourage the curious, whether that be some two-bit criminal that tried to steal his merchandise, or some nosey cop decided to investigate the docks either because they happened to see the lights on or were working with Internal Affairs to try and bring him down, as if he would allow that to happen...
As well as gunning down any of the workers that tried to pull a fast one on him or if they suddenly got cold feet and tried to make a run for it. Fortunately, none of them were stupid enough to betray him knowing that he would personally kill each and every one of them as painfully as humanly possible if they even entertained the idea; better yet none of them were American citizens meaning that nobody would ever come looking for them if they turned up missing.
Fear was a powerful motivator.
On the second floor for there were a several more guards patrolling keeping an eye out for trouble, something a few days ago he would've scoffed at...but considering that had happened less than twenty-four hours ago in Los Angeles.
A scowl formed the moment he started thinking about what had happened in L.A.
While it was true that he, along with anyone else for that matter, were still trying to piece together what exactly had happened in Los Angeles, he had a pretty good idea. Admittingly, it had been a little ballsy on his part to try selling his merchandise in L.A, but he had been hoping that his gunrunner could be discreet...clearly that hadn't been the case and he had paid with his life.
Additionally, not only had he lost the merchandise and the potential clients and quite possibly gained the attention of the LAPD if they happened to salvage any of the guns from the wreckage, but he had also lost a small fortune.
And the one responsible?
The Ghost.
A ridiculous nickname, but an apt one he supposed.
The so-called vigilante had managed to evade capture for over a year now, if the rumours about him were true. Personally, he didn't care how he had managed to stay one step ahead of the cops, that sonofabitch had cost him a lot of money and he would suffer for interfering with his business. Nobody crossed him and lived, nobody.
Nevertheless, he wasn't stupid. He knew going against the Ghost singlehandedly would be nothing short of suicidal. Furthermore, judging from his skills and his use of phycological warfare he was clearly special forces, possibly even a fellow Green Beret. Regardless, he had fucked up royally when he had attacked him.
But again, he knew it would've been suicidal to try and take down the Ghost alone. He would have to call in a few favours from his old team, and if they were unavailable then he would just have to hire some mercenaries to deal with this fly in the ointment, if that failed, he could always offer a bounty for whoever it was that brought him the Ghosts head.
Money was also a powerful motivator, and everyone had their price.
"Has everything been loaded up?!" Flass called out to one of the workers as he walked to the centre of the room, his thoughts regarding the Ghost and their future demise put on hold for the moment.
"Prawie, Szef."
"You're in America," Flass spat at him making the Polish man grimace that he had fallen back into his native tongue. "Fucking speak English!"
"Pretty much, boss." Came the workers broken English.
"See, was that really so hard?" The Detective asked condescendingly getting a few snickers from the guards, meanwhile the rest of the workers wisely opted to stay out of it.
"..."
"Come now, Polack." Flass gave him a few love taps on the cheek to intimidate and humiliate him in front of the others. "Question not too difficult, I hope?"
"No."
"No, what?" The massive Detective grilled coldly.
"No, sir." The worker quickly amended his word.
"That's more like it." Flass nodded, somewhat satisfied with his response before he backtracked to what he was going to say before he was forced to remind the little foreigner of his place. "Now, hurry up and get the rest of the crates loaded up." He ordered the man, although everyone present knew he was talking to all of them. "After the complete and utter fuck up last night I'm postponing any future deals until the heat dies now."
No one uttered a word knowing his temper was legendary at the best of times, let alone now that he had lost not only the weapons, a potential client, but most of all the money that he should've been getting...the latter being the only thing that mattered to him.
"Get this stuff to the lockup and be discreet, understand?"
"We'll get it done, sir." The worker nodded.
"It better be." Flass warned him coldly. "Because if anything happens to my goods, and I mean anything, I'm going to holding you and the rest of you parasites responsible, clear?"
"Crystal." The polish man nodded getting a smirk from the much larger man.
"I'm pleased to hear that, because I would hate to have to go pay that little floozy of yours a visit." Flass threatened, his smirk growing when he saw him tense up. However, before he could say anything else a shockwave struck the warehouse creating a massive bang that reverberated throughout the entire building making the workers skittish, meanwhile the armed guards acted on instinct and pointed their weapons up at the ceiling.
As they all looked up at the source of the noise, eyes widened, and jaws dropped as they stared at the massive behemoth that was wreathed in black fell through the roof along with several pieces of debris. As they fell, the drop between the roof and floor being of no consequence to them, they reached over their shoulder and grabbed a rifle, one that none of them recognized, before taking out one of the guards with a headshot.
As they continued to fall to the ground floor, they extended their arm and shot out a zipwire of some sorts and grabbed another of the guards whom like others simply stared dumbly at the falling goliath. As the grapple grabbed the guard, they were yanked across the railings and pulled towards giant screaming all the while. Grabbing them by the fabric of their jacket, they proceeded to use them as a human battering ram.
Cocking their arm back, apparently the guard weighing absolutely nothing to them, they slammed them into the ground ripping apart the concrete floor sending dust and debris in every direction following by the sound of bones shattering and blood spattering that made everyone recoil. As the goliath stood up, blood oozed off his hand as he looked over at the detective who paled considerably to the extent that it looked like he had seen a ghost.
"It's him." Flass thought to himself as his eyes stared into the golden visor of the Ghost. How the hell had he found him? He was supposed to be in Los Angeles hunting down some petty criminals for the night not in San Francisco. Better yet, what the hell was he wearing? It certainly wasn't kevlar, that was for damn sure. Looked like something from out of that Battlehammer, or was it Warsword crap he had seen.
"KILL HIM!" Arnold barked pointing at the Ghost before grabbing his Glock 17c from his holster and opened fire, pretty much setting of a domino effect as the entire room opened fire on the vigilante.
With a burst of speed that none of them had been expecting, the vigilante shot forward with his arm cocked back and in a feat of herculean strength punched through the closest guard's head. Time seemed to slow down for them all as they watched as his entire arm went through his head like it was made from papier Mache; an action that both horrified and disgusted them.
Pulling his arm out from the side effortlessly, where they almost threw up when they saw the insides of the man's head and the blood gushing out, he rammed his elbow into the second guards face. A sickening crack rang out making everyone recoil in horror as they all looked on as his face was caved in until it no longer resembled anything human.
As the second man fell, the vigilante brought his arm back before driving it straight through the man's stomach breaking through the fabric, skin, and flesh getting a soundless gasp from the man who looked down and taciturnly reached out tapping his killer's chest in shock before his lifeless body slumped forward. Pulling his arm out, the Ghost pushed the now dead man away from him and turned his attention to the others.
Within the span of a few seconds the first three hired guns were brutally taken out making the others apprehensive but did their best not to let it show as they opened fire on the Ghost. Strafing across the room to flank them, the vigilante lifted his rifle and took out the two gunmen on the second floor in quick succession of one another making them fall over the railing as they slumped forward and hit the ground floor with a thump.
As they hit the ground, the next group of thugs opened fire on the vigilante who simply tanked the bullets creating a golden light that shimmered around him protecting him, lights that as crazy as it sounded acted like some sci-fi protective barriers.
Pulling the trigger in quick successions, the Ghost took out a few more guards with a series of headshots culling their numbers until there were only a handful left that all fought for their lives.
"FUCKING DIE ALREADY!" One gunman screamed at the vigilante as he held down the trigger and advanced towards him, their fear and pride getting the better of them as all sense of reason eluding them as they hopelessly fought a losing battle, they might as well of been using blow pipes at this point.
Firing point-blank at the armoured behemoth, they stared in horror as they grabbed the barrel of the rifle and effortlessly bent it back so that the barrel was pointed at them.
As they were distracted, the Ghost finished them off with a headshot before extending his arm and fired the grappling hook at one of the guards who barely had a chance to react as they were yanked across the room and towards the vigilante who rammed his arm through their stomach and used them as a meat shield as he calmly walked over to the remaining gunmen.
From the other side of the room, Flass watched in disbelief as his entire security detail was annihilated within the span of thirty seconds. Granted, the Ghost had the element of surprise. It was the armour. He was certain of it. If only he could get his hands on it there would be nothing that could stop him. Hell, if he could find the person that had manufactured it...he'd make out like a king.
Observing the firefight from where he was crouching down, Flass pointed his pistol at the Ghost, who was preoccupied with the remainder of his forces, and fired a couple of rounds directly at the golden visor hoping to break through those damn shields, something he was still having a hard time believing; it was like something out of a crappy sci-fi movie.
Scowling when they didn't so much as make him flinch, je turned his attention over to where his BMW was parked then back over to where the workers were covering beside the trucks and smirked when an idea formed in his head.
"Pick up a weapon!" Flass ordered the workers on his payroll who looked at him shaking their heads in fear of fighting the vigilante that threw the dead body that he had been holding at the group knocking one of them over while the others dived out of the way.
"I said," the detective pointed his weapon at them. "Pick up a weapon, you piece of shit!" He roared at them, desperation in his voice, and from the corner of his eye watched as the Ghost leapt into the air jumped and landed on the guard's head crushing it beneath his boots, creating a thick bloody paste that even sickened him.
"No." One of the workers refused, bravely standing up for himself and the others despite knowing it was nothing short of crazy to tell Flass of all people no. His act of defiance angered the blond detective who glared hatefully at the man for not only questioning his authority but challenging him in front of the others.
Pointing the Glock straight at the man's head, Flass went to pull the trigger to make an example out of him in front of the others. Alas, before he could a clang rang out and his arm was pulled around before the Glock was forcefully pulled from his grasp. Turning to see where it went the gun was pulled into the Ghosts hand who used it to gun down the last few guards.
As the last of the guards fell and silence ensued once more, Flass in some desperate attempt to escape made a tactical retreat and tried to flee. Unfortunately, before he could even make it a few yards he screamed out as a sheering pain shot through his ligament forcing him to hop away. As he desperately tried to get away, Arnold screamed out in pain once again as something embedded into the back of his leg and tugged the skin back and pulled his leg from underneath him and hit the ground, banging his head on the cold hard floor disorientating him.
Before he could even entertain the thought of returning to his senses, Flass was pulled across the room making him scream as the hook pulled his skin and blood come from his nails as he dug them into the ground as hard as he could, frantically trying to find something to latch onto and escape the Ghosts hold on him; alas, it did very little as he was yanked towards him before he felt a hand wrap around his ankle after the hook was removed from his leg.
Grabbing the corrupt detective by his ankle, the Ghost swung him around effortlessly acting like he was taking part in a hammer throw before finally letting him go and watched as he flew across the room and slammed into the back of one of the trucks leaving a human-sized impression in the metal door.
Hitting the ground after feeling like he had been broken in half, he gritted his teeth and refused to show any fear as the Ghost walked over before stopping in front of him and glanced over to where the workers were huddled together. Rather than speaking he simply nodded his head in the direction of the door getting a sigh of relief from the group.
"Dziekuje! Dziekuje!" Flass scowled as the little Polack placed his hands together and thanked the Ghost for his mercy before signalling the others to get and hastily left the warehouse. Glaring as the traitorous rats ran with their tails between their legs, he took a deep breath and quickly thought on his feet as he tried to think of a way to get out of this alive.
"Stop. Just wait a second and listen to me." Flass pleaded holding his hand up praying that he would hear him out. "My name is Arnold Flass. I'm a detective of the San Francisco Police Department that's been deep undercover for the last few months..." His voice trailed off as he watched as the Ghost brought his leg up making his eyes widen as he connected the dots before he brought it down and crushed his leg, shattering the bone in a single movement.
A bloodcurdling scream quickly ensued, one that echoed throughout the warehouse as Arnold screamed at the top of his lungs as he stared at his crushed leg which right now felt like it was on fire.
"You motherfucker!" Flass shouted out as his head went back and he breathed in and out through his nose. "You sonofabitch! My leg! You broke my leg you fucking psychopath! Fuck!" He screamed out in agony feeling sick to his stomach and had a ringing in his ears making it hard for him to focus on anything, no doubt from the trauma and blood loss.
"Aright, alright, alright!" He said quickly, panicking as the Ghost raised his foot up again. "I lied about being undercover, but I'm still a cop! You kill me and you sign your own death warrant, and you know it! It's why you haven't killed me yet." Despite the confidence he tried to muster there was fear evident in his voice. "You kill me and there will be nowhere you can hide. Every cop in the country will be gunning for you."
Arnold swallowed a lump as a bead of sweat rolled down his face as the Ghost stared down at him, the golden visor reflecting his own bloody and battered imagine. The tension was palpable as a few seconds passed as they seemed to be thinking about it. Then, all of a sudden, he brought his leg up and brought it down and snapped the second leg making Flass lurch forward; and as if he was rubbing salt into the wound, the Ghost twisted his foot into the crushed leg to inflict as much pain as he could.
"Stop, stop, please, I'll give you whatever you want, I swear!" Flass screamed until his throat hurt as he pleaded, implored for him to stop as leaned forward tried to push the armoured covered leg off him but had little success.
"My legs, my fucking legs!" Flass cried out sucking through his teeth as the vigilante finally released his hold and removed his foot. "W-what, what do you want?" He implored, and when he received nothing but silence again, he did his best not to break down as he was systematically tortured rather than being killed like the others. "Just tell me what you want."
"..."
"Please. Just tell me what you want." His voice became quieter, and his eyes drooped. "If you let me live, I'll give you whatever you want...I swear I won't say anything."
"I know." Came an emotionless voice startling the detective that he had finally spoken. Alas, before he could think too much about it he screamed in pain as the Ghost grabbed him by the scruff of his coat and began dragging him away, his legs practically hanging off at this point as he dragged him through the warehouse, a trail of blood behind them as they both disappeared into the shadows.
And cut! Well, here is finally the next chapter for The Furious Wolf. I hoped you all enjoyed it and sorry about the slight hiatus since the last chapter. If you read my Halo x Brooklyn 99 crossover, you'll know why but basically life and the power cuts in England have stopped me from writing. Not gonna lie, I wanted to write more for this chapter but didn't like how it transitioned between Six hunting down Flass and it suddenly being the next morning with a simple line break, hence why I ended it so abruptly.
Next chapter will have Dom heading to Six's place, possibly alone, and Brian being picked up by Tanner where the aftermath of the firefight at the docks, and what Six has done to Flass over the course of the night. Furthermore, the FBI/LAPD will also learn more about Jericho Reach and have various reports of the Ghost who they have been trying to apprehend for over a year now.
The brutality of Six might have been a little much, but again I wanted to paint home how brutal and violent he has become since the Fall of Reach and losing Noble Team. But as you can see from him letting the civilians go there are still hints of his humanity present. However, spending time with people again may get him to revert to his previous self.
Also, I was thinking of starting another Halo x Fast and Furious crossover. This time where Six and Dot, after Reach and being transported back in time, create Noble Industries to covertly uplift humanity and give them a fighting chance against the Covenant. In this version Six would essentially retire from being a Spartan until something forces him to don his armour again. Also, I was thinking of having Jack Toretto and his wife still alive, meaning that Dom, Jakob, and Mia would all be on good terms and living together.
Dziekuje. Means thank you in Polish, just in case you were all wondering what the man said to Six.
Not much else to say other than let me know what you all thought regarding this chapter and the story idea and if you would like to read it.
