There were no other words to describe what was afliting the soon-to-be newest member of Noble Team, other than the term "nightmare." He couldn't make sense of things at first, as they came in random flashes. Like a holo-film that had been super sped up. But one he could actually focus on, terrified the SPARTAN super soldier. He was fighting on his own. Surrounded on all sides by Covenant, and was low on ammo for his MA5 Assault Rifle. His shields were dangerously low, and suddenly dropped thanks in part to an unknown blast from one of the many plasma weapons aimed at him.

Letting out a pained and irritated growl, he removed his helmet, and tossed it to the ground. Several Elites had closed in by then, but there was no way that this SPARTAN was going to go down without a fight. The Elite's roared, when the demon they had surrounded raised his rifle. Several of their shields flared, then suddenly dropped. Two of the large Covenant commanders dropped as more rounds from the Assault Rifle ripped into their flesh, but by then, more were on top of him. One of the Elites, dressed in the red armor of a Zealot swept hi legs out from under him. Energy sword raised, in preparation to deliver a death blow. But it recoiled in the next moment, as its energy shields suddenly dropped. The SPARTAN had drawn his sidearm, and had nearly emptied the magazine into the Elite. It's dual madables spread wide, and he let out a roar, before bringing a hoof down on the SPARTAN. Pinning down the arm with the weapon. A smaller wrist mounted energy dagger appeared, before it was plunged into his chest.

The SPARTAN jolted awake with a gasp. It took him a second for the soldier to realize where he was. At least that was before his entire body was rocked, as the Warthog he was riding in, hit a particularly large bump in the dirt road. That's right, he was on his way to meet the new team of SPARTAN III's he had been assigned to. Sierra B-312 sighed, and his head rested on the rather stiff padding of the Warthog's passenger seat.

"What the fuck was that…?" The question he posed to himself went unheard over the roar of the Warthogs engine. He could see a structure approaching, as the Warthog crested a hill. It was nestled right in the middle of a valley between several large mountain ranges. That was where his new team was. B-312 wasn't so keen on working with a team. He was a lone wolf, and in all honesty, he preferred it that way. But the reassignment order had come from Colonel Holland, and there really wasn't much that the Lieutenant could do. Orders were orders after all.

So, with what little the SPARTAN had, he had relocated to Planet Reach. Reassigned to Noble Team, under the command of SPARTAN A-259 Commander Carter. Sighing, Sierra B-312 slightly spun the helmet in his hands. It had once belonged to an ODST short for Orbital Drop Shock Trooper. Next to the SPARTANs, the ODSTs were the best and most hardened soldiers that the UNSC had. They were the ones who were deployed into occupied enemy territory by dropping from HEV pods stationed from either orbital stations, or from one of the more larger ships the UNSC had. This particular helmet had belonged to Captain Jordan Henderson. The former Captain had painted the helmet to resemble some sort of monster with teeth along the glass lens. Captain Henderson had told B-312 that he had done so, as many hundreds of years ago, one of the Captain's ancestors had his airborne assault vehicle with the same design. He had given the helmet to the SPARTAN as a replacement for his old helmet, as it had been irrevocably damaged during what both the SPARTAN and ODST had certainly thought, would be their last stand. And it was for Captain Henderson. That had been the last mission the SPARTAN had been on, before his reassignment. B-312 had painted the helmet black to match the dull matte black of his armor, although he had left the teeth design, and the red stripe running right down the middle once the helmet had been upgraded to match the specs of the MJOLNIR MK V.

The gravel underneath the Warthog's large tires crunched as it came to a stop just outside of the command post used as Noble Team's HQ. The SPARTAN let out a sigh, and placed the helmet on over his head. There was a small chiming beep, as his HUD activated, giving him a view of his shield, and ammo count of his current weapon. Which had also been upgraded to account for Covenant plasma weapons as well. Grabbing the small back containing what little personal possessions he had, B-312 gave his thanks to the Marine that had driven him here, and hopped out.

The new member of Noble Team, Six paused as he heard a conversation from the inside of Noble Team's HQ. The reception out here mustn't be all that great. Despite the relay tower just outside. If the scratchy voice coming from the old, and rather battered terminal was anything to go by. 'Contact with Visegrad Relay was lost last night at 2600 hours. I responded with trooper fireteams, which have since been Declared as MIA'

"And now you're sending us." Responded a hard male voice. Whoever this was, clearly didn't sound very happy about whatever this was.

As the newest member of Noble Team entered the structure, his attention was immediately drawn to another SPARTAN. He was sitting on a large ammo crate. His magenta and gray armor was dented and scratched from many years of combat. And his EVA helmet had been scratched and carved to resemble a large wicked looking skull. He hardly paid the newcomer any mind. Merely continuing to sharpen the large kukri knife in his possession.

Any further progress into the structure was interrupted by an outstretched arm. And that made his eyes widen in slight surprise. The arm was a thin metal working prosthetic, and was attached to a female SPARTAN in turquoise armor. Her lack of a helmet revealed her to have short brown hair, and a tough face was accented by a long scar that ran down her left cheek. And tough dark eyes, that glared at him with suspicious skepticism. The war effort was clearly that desperate if they let this SPARTAN continue with active service despite that crippling injury.

Peering around the woman giving him an icy cold look that would freeze anyone else solid, he saw two more SPARTANs. The first was a mountain on the opposite end of the room. His armor was painted green and gold, and at his feet sat a massive belt-fet machine gun, that suited him. His helmet sat on a table nearby, and the new number six of Noble Team realized that this was a SPARTAN II. If his graying hair and stubble, and the sun aged skin wasn't a dead giveaway.

The scratchy voice of Colonel Holland spoke over the poor receptioned communicator. His face continued to come in and out of focus. That monitor was in serious need of repair, but the acting Commander of all SPARTAN forces on Reach could clearly be seen a few moments later. "The Office of Naval Intelligence believes the deployment of SPARTAN forces is a gross misallocation of valuable resources. I disagree."

"Commander." The female SPARTAN spoke up, catching the attention of the other SPARTAN that stood beside the mountain of a soldier on the far end. This man was the textbook by-the book definition of a UNSC Commander. A serious expression plastered on his face, squared shoulders, and his hair styled in the perfect regulation of 'high-and-tight'. His armor was a darker blue than the female that had blocked the path of the new number six. This was clearly Commander Carter. He turned his attention to the newest arrival, nodded once, and returned to the conversation with Colonel Holland.

The largest member of the team, the aged SPARTAN II spoke up in a deep, yet somewhat soothing leathery voice. "So that's our new number six."

'Six… yeah, guess that's my name now.' B-312 said to himself, dropping his duffel by an unclaimed rack

"Kat." The SPARTAN with the kukri and carved up helmet spoke up. "You read his file?"

The turquoise armored super soldier nodded, and responded in a tone that was as icy cold as the look she continued to give the newcomer. "Only the parts that weren't covered in black ink."

"Anyone claim responsibility, sir?" Carter asked, catching everyone else's attention.

'ONI thinks it could be the local insurrectionists. Five months ago they pulled a similar job in Harmony. Hit a relay that took out our eyes and ears, and stole two freighters from dry dock. This cannot happen here. Reach is too damn important. I want that relay back online Noble 1!'

"Sir, consider it done. Noble 1 out." The communication between Carter and Colonel Holland then cut off, before the Commander of Noble Team turned his attention to the team's newest addition. "Lieutenant?"

"Sir." Six snapped to attention at once, upon being addressed.

"I'm Carter, Noble Leader. You've met Kat, Noble 2. Jun, Noble 3." He pointed to a Spartan that Six hadn't seen before. His armor was an olive drab green, and he had a small mantle that could be used as a ghillie suit of sorts. Next to him, resting on its stock was an SRS-9S-2AM Sniper Rifle. Jun gave a short nod, which Six returned. "Emille, Noble 4. And Jorge, Noble 5."

"Just one thing Six." Carter continued, over the sound and wind whipping up thanks to the Falcons large dual rotors. Noble Team was assembling in two of the airborne vehicles. Jorge, Emille, and Kat in one. Carter, Jun and Six in the other. "I've read your file. Including the parts the ONI censors didn't want me to. You like to work alone, but we're a team. Meaning that lone wolf stuff stays behind. Got it?"

"Got it sir."

As the Falcons began to rise into the air, Jun nudged Six in the ribs. "Welcome to Reach." He said in an amused tone.