Roxanne: Hide and Seek
"A little Reavian girl steps from one life into the next as the deadliest game draws new stakes."

Daytime, 23 July 2552
Sauvageau Homestead, Visegrád
Viery Territory, Reach, UEG Inner Colonies

And so, played out the longest game of hide-and-seek ever by a little farmgirl on the Reavian highlands.

Little seven-year-old Roxanne Sauvageau could tell it was daytime, but not the hour or minute. Dim light poured into her hiding hole giving her the hint. She didn't dare move from her cooled, dark spot behind a giant green fuel canister of six located deep within her family's homestead. She clutched a small wireless handheld, a game player she refused to connect with the home network. It remained unused, a trick she learned the hard way against her elder brothers in hide-and-seek games like this one. If she hooked into the home network, someone would notice the signal activity eventually.

Her brothers were keenly aware of the trick because they too learned that mistake with the neighbors' children and their parents over the years. Children got bored, even in exciting pursuits like this. Game players helped pass the time in the dark, but tracing signals back to users was easy.

The Sauvageau multi-ring kiva, a large complex formed by three permacrete housing facilities tucked between foothills and a ravine, was full of hiding places and obscure retreats perfect for children to disappear into. Over many years and games, Roxanne and her brothers mastered the layout of their homes and their neighbors' homes in ways adults could not begin to comprehend. More than once, troubled children sent to their rooms disappeared for hours, only to mysteriously reappear in the kitchen in the dead of night looking for a snack.

Roxanne had on more than one occasion been that troubled child, just wanting to be 'one of the boys' after growing up under the competitive strong-arming environment of Dicun, Lenard, and Radek Sauvageau. Being the youngest and the only girl had its ups and downs.

Like when the boys protected her from bullies at school, jesting about her out-of-place blonde hair among the family. Or when the boys stole her dolls, work gloves, and agreed time on the flight simulator they found in the basement from the farm family that moved out a generation ago.

Or maybe now, when Dicun made sure to put her in one of his undefeated hiding spots before running off to find Lenard after hearing their parents screaming from outside the homestead. And how Dicun, Lenard, or Radek never returned.

The homestead and its kiva rings were mostly silent now. Empty halls harmonically populated by the desolate sounds of air duct fans, drips of water, and the home's settling foundation. As if nothing stalked the halls above.

Roxanne didn't dare move. Noises were deceiving – she knew something was out there. A monster, or many monsters. She couldn't let them find her.

Just like how they found Lenard two naps ago when Roxanne was summoned from comforting sleep by his animalistic screams of terror and the warbles of alien intruders upon the homestead. Roxanne's brother screamed for what felt like hours, but she had the misfortune to try and count the seconds off in her head at that moment.

He screamed for three-hundred-and-seven seconds, split between earsplitting hollers for help, cries of agony, and desperate final croaks as he died by the insidious methods of the monsters. Not once did she call out to his aid or for her own reassurance. Not once did she seek to leave her coveted cover, assigned by Dicun. Not once did she try to save her dying brother as he screamed.

Dicun had been clear. Do not leave this spot no matter what. Do not call out, do not move. Do not make a peep. He was twelve and so much more worldly than Roxanne. Lenard was, had been ten. The missing Radek, thirteen.

She didn't know what happened to Dicun, but she knew that somewhere upstairs, the body of Lenard waited, based on the echoing of his screams and the thumping of a struggle. He spoke terrible words, things that she couldn't push from her mind, "giant birds—with many teeth" or "they're cutting me Momma, they have long knives."

Or "don't eat me," followed by alien squawks and even more violent gurgles. Roxanne couldn't get the thoughts out of her head; she couldn't stop her wild imagination from conceiving any number of terrible ways her sibling exited this world.

Roxanne did nothing. Her muffled gasps echoed just a little through her clasped hands-over-mouth as tears dripped down her cheeks. Her frustrated, angry, and horrified cries finally whisked her off to sleep, another barely blissful interrupt to the worst day of her life.

• • •

In her dreams, Roxanne imagined herself flying but not by way of fairy wings, nor Neverland imagination. She sat in a cushy flight chair with a four-piece harness restraining her in place just like the flight simulator in the other basement. A UNSC space fighter cockpit rested before her, the joystick and control panels just within reach. Outside the vehicle's windows, she could see a massive sheet of cloud cover that extended to and beyond the Reavian horizon.

Gray clouds loomed as far as the eye could see; how very normal for the skies over Visegrád. Roxanne recognized these skies as she zipped over her hometown, watching tips of mountain peaks disappear and reappear beneath the cloud cover. She circled about in high-G elliptical turns that twisted into spectacles set off-angle with the horizon's axis. She performed elaborated barrel rolls, dodging the plasma spray of fuzzy purple outlines that came in and out of her dreamy view. She threw herself into a vertical and a weightless drift, drawing a sky scissor on one of her imaginary pursuers and dropped on their tail. The alien fighter proved slow and cumbersome, never able to keep up because Roxanne was the best pilot the UNSC had ever seen.

As she flew by, she saw specs atop a cracked mountain top – split down the center as if by a lightning strike. Mount Törött. She drifted closer, the alien starfighters disappearing quickly from memory.

The specs grew into humanoid shapes as she neared, and then into humans. Five figures waved out to her, smiling, and cheering her on. Mom, Dad. Dicun, Lenard and Radek. Their faces were obscured but she knew it was them – the power of dreams.

She made to wave back; yell and holler their names in absolute bliss. They lived! Her family was there waiting for her!

The cloud cover shifted, a heavy gust of wind painting over the fluffy white sea and pressed into the broken mountain peak. Clouds shifted over Törött's tops and the family became shadow, fading in the mountain mist.

Fading and gone. Roxanne's hand slackened mid-rise, drooping back to her side. They were gone. Gone…forever, fading into the white without her.

• • •

Roxanne awoke screaming.

So did the rest of the homestead. Creaks, crows, and screeches joined the girl's holler of desperation and terror.

Roxanne clamped a palm to her face, filling the fuel room with thunderous slap. Above her feet shuffled and scampered about, the monsters now alert to the other occupant of the house. How they didn't find her yet was a miracle, but it didn't matter anymore. The game was up, they would find and kill her now.

The little girl whimpered, staring into the darkness, and wished so desperately for the nightmare to end. End anyway possible, just get the monsters out and return her family. Anything but this. She didn't want to die. She wanted her Momma.

The crones and step work of the monsters continued. Sounds of toppling furniture and shattering dishware hitting the kitchen floor. They were coming. Inhuman feet tapped against stairwell boards, one clawed foot at a time. They clicking grew louder by the second.

Desperation gripped Roxanne's heart. She needed to run! It wasn't safe! She needed to hide again!

But where else to run? This was the first time she was introduced to this hiding spot. The first time she lay eyes on this interior space beneath the laundry room in abundant detail. She didn't know this small room like the rest of the house.

Roxanne was trapped, no place to retreat and no place to hide. The monsters were coming, having stormed past the keep. For a moment she thought of the homestead as her castle, and she, it's princess... No, not a princess. A knight.

What would a knight do in a time like this?

A knight would fight the monsters. Draw a sword and bow against them. Roxanne had no sword, no bow. On ancient Earth, knights set fire to their castle moat to keep their enemies at bay in a siege. They used molten oil – she had no fire, but she had oil. Six giant bins of oil.

Roxanne rose, quick on her feet, and squeezed herself between the two canisters and under a fuel tube to break back into the open. The fuel room was still dark with exception to the dim glow above from a ground level window pressed between the wall and ceiling. Distant sunlight poured in but like before she couldn't tell the time.

She rushed down the line of tubs, examining their green surfaces for valves and control interfaces to get a frantic plan in motion. If she did something, things would be okay. Do nothing and she would die, like a helpless princess. Roxanne had been her brothers' princess, but she knew what she really was.

The very best fighter pilot. A dazzling female knight in shining armor. She would not fail now. She would defend what was hers, whatever she had left.

She spun faucet dials; nothing came out – safety systems. Roxanne tapped at the center console on the furthest tub in the room, away from the stairs leading to the foyer above.

The logo for Kawanishi Engineering flashed across the screen for a bare second than retreated into a user interface. Procedures – Functions – something. Her fingers danced across the settings menu looking for the pump control; she was seven, operating a gas tank was not the same as starting up a flight simulator, a game player, or a clothing washer. At least she thought this situation would run simpler than this.

The monster noises continued above – for what she thought were fast creatures, they seemed to be coming down slow. The pump release; found it!

Something hissed and bubbled within the tank, giving a hefty grunt from both Roxanne and the machine as she figured out how to get the fragments of an idea in her head together. A series of pops echoed within the tank, and then all the tanks.

Wait, was that supposed to happen?

Roxanne didn't get a chance to find out – the squawks were right around the corner. She sprinted from the console towards her original hiding spot behind the fuel tanks. Her attempts crossed into brief view of the hallway; a grateful breath escaped the girl's lips upon not seeing a raptor-like foot sticking out at the edge of the stairwell. But things grew complicated as she pressed back into the gap and felt two cold metal surfaces squeeze in on her.

She was stuck? No, please, not like this…

How did she get through here earlier? How did her brother do it? He said to squeeze herself through, make sure to… what did Dicun tell her to do? Her mind blanked, panicked.

The monsters were right behind her, she swore it.

The tanks sputtered further, their micro-pops rising in threat. They sounded like broken washing machines on the verge of self-dismantling. Roxanne was stuck between the containers but there was this dangling tube with jostling dark liquid passing between them…

A very bad idea assembled itself, becoming crystal clear to the girl. Oil was slick, she could slicken her clothes and slide through. Maybe she could be quick about it.

Reaching up to the darkened tube, she clamped down something fierce and twisted as her child arms only reached so far. The tube gave way with very little effort, twisting and twisting, until pop.

The tube came free and Roxanne was introduced to the worst smelling thing in the galaxy for the first time. Blackened sludge gushed free of the tube, finally giving way to the glories of gravity.

Roxanne's head was in the way, as the first marks of fuel ink drenched her brilliant blond hair in black. She flinched, dodging away as more splashed across her skin, her clothes. The yellowish-black liquid kept pouring from the opening as slouching continued to fill the space. Not just from the tube, but from the giant fuel tanks took. Six pops echoed through the room and the slouching became awash – a full torrent. Her first reaction was to flinch, the liquid stung to the touch but there was nowhere to run.

Barely able to open her eyes, Roxanne could only squint through obscured, burning eyelids and made out a dark sea emerging in the fuel room. First an inch height in the putrid-smelling liquid, but then it kept going. It stunk, it stuck, and it rose. Like high tide, coming up to her toes and sneakers. Swallowing her ankles and quickly rising to her shins.

No, this was too much – the stuff was already pouring down on her head and back, now it was reaching up her legs too. Too much! The fuel ran free, smelling sweet with a terrifying, intoxicating aroma that made it very hard to think when mixed with panic. An aberrant thought summed it up for her, the scent of demonic honey…

Her moat wasn't supposed to be this deep, but it did solve one issue. She squirmed harder and pressed forward between the bins – a blackened mass of a girl, drenched head to toe in oil. Roxanne cruised finally free, squeaking by as black splotches trailed over the surfaces of the fuel tanks.

She splashed forth into the oil puddle settling behind the canisters as well. Shirt, pants – all drenched. Getting a face full of the fuel's smell, Roxanne cringed as the beginnings of a headache thundered in her skull. This smell, she could barely process through it.

Hide, she needed to hide. The thought consumed her through the pounding heartbeat pressing into her forehead. The headache would not stop her. She had her moat, now all she would need is a match. Something to set a fire between her and the monsters. The risks of lathering in the flammable liquid didn't even cross her mind. She was simply set on staying alive.

And just in time. The monsters, the aliens, finally made their presence known in the deepest chamber of the Sauvageau homestead. Through the shadowed gap between the tanks, a blackened Roxanne watched as the beasts that haunted her deepest, darkest dreams for her entire life emerged before the makeshift moat under distant sunlight.

Living on the edge of civilization did not mean Roxanne was unaware of the demon creatures that sought to destroy all humanity. Her entire childhood was built around them – the alien Covenant. At school, they practiced Covenant raid drills. At home, her parents used to watch late into the night combat footage from the frontlines. In the fields, her brothers took turns pretending to be the Elite in 'Kill the Split-Jaw'.

Now they wandered her home freely, invaders from beneath another star.

Roxanne didn't dare move. Not for the putrid smell, not for her own fear, and not for the shriek demanding to be free of her lips. Two aliens sauntered down the stairwell and paused at the edge of the shallow, blackened sea that lay before them.

The aliens were reptilian – kind of like a raptor, or more like a feathery Moa. Their heads bobbed and shifted about, like those of chicken. Large feather crests extended from their heads; their bodies were adjourned in dark, ceramic armor. Their eyes seemed to glow in the low light, like embers or predator eyes, narrow and harsh yellow. Razor sharp teeth protruded from their tough, stone-like jaws.

She wondered if they could see or smell her while covered head to toe in the liquid fuel. They crooned at one another, the duo stepping cautiously into the flooded basement. While Roxanne couldn't imagine understanding their foreign speak in the slightest, there were universal signals that any intelligent life could decipher.

One of the aliens screeched at the other as it tried to poke the black liquid with its blue-colored weapon, shaped like a large magnet. The yelling alien reached out and grasped its ally's arm as if the other was making a terrible mistake. It made hand gestures toward the other's weapon then its own and back at the black liquid. Danger, don't do that?

Roxanne's education was still simple but things like states of matter and basic chemical reactions were straight forward. Things that were hot, burned. Oil could start a fire. Aliens used fire weapons, right? As the reality settled for Roxanne, she allowed herself a moment of internal pride – had they stepped forward or done some other stupid thing, it could have burned it and its friend alive.

The victory was complete but short lived. After shuffling a bit at the black pool's edge, the monsters seemed to lose interest – their wide eyes dimming in scale from dinner plates to tea cups.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they turned their feet and took leisure-like steps back up the path to the main floor. Roxanne watched and listened from the darkness while praying in silence to any creator above to prevent them from finding her. The desperate wishes seemed to come through as the alien raptors disappeared up the stairwell and out of sight – their footsteps echoed overhead but their voices, hisses in their own tongue, emptied off into nothing.

Roxanne did not celebrate. Her victory came somber, quickly sapping any pride she might have earned from the success. She was alone again. Alone in a house full of monsters and not a family member left in sound or sight.

She survived this round, but what next? Roxanne contemplated the situation as she mustered her remaining strength and pulled herself over the final ledge and back into her hiding spot behind the canisters. Sprawling herself out, she took note of her safe space. It was dry, but that didn't say much regarding her drenched form, sticky with the scent and texture of putrid fuel of the underground. Her game player sat unattended, but safe and undisturbed. Uncorrupted by the fuel bath, unlike herself.

The young girl curled forward, her slick legs sliding into a securing hug of slick arms and the press of a drenched forehead and matte black hair. Tears once more threatened to fall but the burning held them back. Roxanne forced the urge down so, so easily – the first time since the worst day ever began. It became easy. Her cries, screams, and tears finally weakening what remained of her fighting will. Her throat grew parched and threatened to cough up the fuel that managed its way into her nostrils and throat. Dried ducts, sapped of their water, stuck fast with the fuel tart, holding Roxanne's eyelids remained shut. Her world was obscured, blurry. Dark. Alone.

Her breathing grew haggard; finally driven to a point of incomprehensible thought. The fuel fumes took their toll – fuzzing her brain and making it difficult to breath. Roxanne's head drooped as the horribly sweet smell of fuel warped into calming lilac and what might have been garlic…

Nothing made sense anymore. There was just the buzz. Then there was nothing at all.

• • •

The darkness became whispers and then the sensation of shuffling waves. But there was no ocean, no substance. Just the rhythmic sensation of a pulse, of patterned beats. There weren't any words to say or describe. Just the endlessness and the waves.

It lasted for so long, but then it didn't exist at all. A light flicked on in the darkness and Roxanne was awake.

Roxanne. That was her name.

Last name… Sauvageau? Thoughts of friends at school, her parents, her three loving brothers. The mountainous farms that defined home. Images became noise and color and sensation. The feeling of being alive.

She blinked, and Roxanne was back. Blankets shifted beneath and around her, soft but thin. The sheets were too paper-like to be her own; harvest season on Reach tended to be a very frosty time. The girl compensated often with layered blankets that doubled as a tent during late night reading sessions.

So, this wasn't her bed. Everything was so bright but rubbing the tired from her eyes helped bring clarity to the space. The walls were decorated with tan wallpaper and water-color cartoon characters dancing around in their imaginary play world.

Machinery filled the room closest to her bedside and a glance to the right revealed a windowed balcony with an apparent ocean in full view from several stories up. Empty or nondescript shelves and a desk filled the rest of the room. A hospital room, was that right?

Looking down at herself, Roxanne noted a very apparent baby blue hospital gown. Other than undergarments, she was naked underneath the get up. Something obstructed her right arm, a black band with a wire connection up to… The girl glanced up to a monitor with a green line dancing like those rippling music displays, but to the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Roxanne slid the band off her arm causing the heartbeat scanner to go inert. Her head felt heavy too, and… where was her hair? Her golden locks refused to descend, absent from view.

Reaching up, she felt a fuzzy cap, also hooked into a machine via a dark cable. Shifting around, she noted that something hard settled under the winter hat of sorts but she also felt the object contact with her skull, her bare skin. Not her hair. She made to reach up and pull—

"Oh, you're awake! I was wondering when you'd come around. The nurses weren't particularly certain when you'd be up but they took you off the medical coma about three hours ago. Glad to see you up and moving."

The male, mouthful of a voice echoed from the open doorway where a man in doctor's white trench coat and clinical blue coveralls leaned in with a grin that extended far into both cheeks. Roxanne blinked at the man's appearance but upon collecting herself, she ignored his presence and went about taking off the hat.

"Hey, hey now. I'm not sure you'll want to do that. Let's take this slow."

Roxanne had to cough twice before she felt some semblance of her wettened throat to speak up. Her voice came out hoarse but distinctly her own. "It's itchy."

The doctor-looking man nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry about that but I don't want you freaking out so soon after your recovery. You're a very brave girl, you know that?"

Roxanne blinked at the man's remarks, not sure what he was alluding too. She thought to what she remembered – what had happened before she got in this bed?

Sleeping. The hiding spot. Her brothers, screaming. The oil. The monsters.

Her voice hitched as the blood drained from her face. Noting Roxanne's change in demeanor from disinterest to morbid, the doctor slipped quickly to her bedside – kneeling so he was below eye level with Roxanne and well within her view.

"Hey now. Let's breath. Are you alright – I can get something for you – water, milk, juice?"

Her breath hitching further until they took on an illusion of hiccups, Roxanne's vision grew clouded and locking on the image of her brother Dicun as he waved for her to stay put in the shadows. To stay safe while he went to find the others.

Dicun called out to her, "It will be alright, sit tight. I'll be back in a minute."

Roxanne flinched, gritted, and squinted in terror as he disappeared up those stairs. He never came back – he never came—

"Roxanne, can I call you Roxanne? Hey, hey. It's going to be alright. You're safe now."

It took her another minute or two to muster a manageable return to form but her daydream soon receded in favor of the doctor kneeling close and rubbing comforting circles into her back. Just like Roxanne's mom.

Sucking in a deep breath, Roxanne mustered an explanation for her squelched outburst.

"My-my brother. He told me to hide… But he never came back."

The doctor nodded in understanding, "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm here if you want to talk about it. Or maybe one of the female nurses if you prefer a woman's presence?"

Roxanne shook her head in vigor.

"The last thing I remember… I fell asleep. The monsters left me…"

The doctor nodded again.

"The Jackals. It's okay now – you're safe. You're on Earth now, not Reach."

Roxanne's grew wide like dinner plates. "I'm on Earth?"

"Hm. Have you ever been to Earth before?"

Roxanne shook her head.

"Off Reach?"

The girl shook her head again.

"Wow, this is a big change for you huh?"

Roxanne was slow to respond but eventually nodded in affirmation. "How did I get here?"

The doctor seemed to shift uncomfortably, trying to decide how to proceed. Still, he put on a weary smile for the little girl's sake. "Are you sure you're ready to hear that story?"

"Please… tell me…"

"Well," The man seemed to straighten with some previously hidden confidence from somewhere as he tried to put together words. His posture turned rigid, uniform – almost undoctor-like if Roxanne had been more mature and observant at the time. She only noted on recollection years later.

The doctor treated her like an adult. "A UNSC Army search and rescue team found you during the evacuation of Visegrád. As we speak, I hear the fighting on Reach continues but you were too sickly to be moved to a Reach hospital and instead were put up in a Navy cargo ship headed here to Earth along with your neighbors."

"I was sick?"

"Yes, you are both a very brave girl and a lucky one. The troopers found you after chasing out the aliens and noted an odd smell coming from the house basement. They found a puddle of fuel leaked out across the room and a little girl suffocated on fumes in the back."

A silence carried through the unusually-warm hospital room.

"I should have died…" Roxanne surmised, catching up as her still-young mind raced to catch up.

The doctor nodded further, even with vigor to a point that it seemed like he was doing it more for himself than her. As if he was noting something.

"The soldiers pulled you from the fuel and saved your life. Speaking of which, this was left in my care." The doctor presented a small yellow box, worn and just a bit browned by fuel staining. Roxanne's game player.

"That's mine…"

"Indeed. The soldiers grabbed it when they recovered you."

"Thank you," Roxanne managed as she powered it on just to see the start screen. For a second, memories raged by of her siblings and friends playing together. Farm children with not much else to invest in time but games and one another. Happy times. Simple times.

Crushing down the gnawing demand to weep, Roxanne instead brought the game player close – pressing it to her chest and hiding her face in her knees. She managed to mumble an appreciation before once more falling silent.

"You were in a coma for the entire duration of the flight to Earth. Your situation was very fragile that a medical team couldn't put you in cryostasis in the meantime. They kept watch over you the entire time. After getting here, you were transferred to this facility – Puerto Rico's Salinas Children's Hospital. You've been here for about two weeks."

"Two… two weeks?"

The doctor nodded.

"Did my friends make it out? My family?"

The doctor paused but shook his head soon enough. "I don't really have an answer for that question. The reports I've gotten told me you were orphaned; each member of your family was accounted for… As for your friends, I don't have any way of knowing. Most Visegrád residents are currently being housed up on Luna."

"Luna?" Roxanne was confused. What was a 'Luna'?

"You've never heard of the Moon?"

Roxanne glanced at the man weirdly but didn't say anything, shrugging. She heard the Earth had a single moon; she never knew it was named Luna.

"Can I meet with them soon?"

"No, it's a bit complicated right now with the refugee settlement issues ongoing right now. You're currently an official ward of the UNSC military."

Silence carried through the room as Roxanne lost any lasting questions or curiosity for her circumstances. She was truly alone now – there was no other way to describe it. Roxanne remained quiet for a long time, drawing out her thoughts to a slow droll and not wanting to address the implications. She stared out to the long beaches of rolling blue water along the Puerto Rican coast. The doctor said nothing, sitting with her and a presence she grew to welcome as the minutes passed by.

Finally, the little girl settled in her reality. She asked the question that the perceptive individual would, removed from her child façade by the realities of war.

"What's next for me then?"

The doctor nodded in consideration, he still sat rigid and straight as if completely habitual.

"Well that's up to you, isn't it? Your home is gone – the future is yours to choose. How about this, what would you like to be?"

Roxanne toyed with the questions in her head. They were a blunt non-answer to her question, but it also revealed an offered opportunity. Something hidden. It wasn't clear in the words but his tone of voice – the doctor wanted or was looking for something on her part. But what?

She answered honestly. "Well… My family owned one of the few airlifters in town, we handled all the material transportation for the other families in getting their bushels to market. Even then, we were all doing badly as demand shifted away from organic to synthetic foods due to the war effort. But my brothers and I were promised the family Albatross when we were old enough to fly it – so we instead spent hours on the flight simulator in the basement. I loved that thing…"

"You want to be a pilot then?"

Roxanne shook her head. "No… Well, sort of. I want to fly, but I also want to fight. I want to be a warrior at the front – not some princess or something."

The doctor chuckled. "I don't think the Longsword pilots I know would be happy to hear that."

"I do want to be a fighter pilot. The very best."

"But you also want to fight? What do you mean by that?"

Roxanne looked at the doctor for a moment before glancing back to the ocean. "I want to be able to face the monsters myself – I want to prove I'm no longer afraid."

The doctor nodded and went quiet. Another silence permeated through the room.

"How about a Spartan then?" The doctor bluntly asked.

"My brothers were more into that than me. They had these action figures on their bookshelf too… but I guess I could be a Spartan…"

"They get to fly, and fight. They are the ultimate warrior – the greatest Humanity has ever made. It would fit you if you wanted it."

Roxanne glanced at the doctor again, her eyes scrunched in confusion. "I could fly and fight?"

"And so much more."

Roxanne shivered at the way the doctor didn't blink and spoke in the most emotionless voice she ever heard, cold and straight – barely a whisper.

After a moment, Roxanne nodded. "Alright, a Spartan then."

The doctor smiled and made to get up from the bed.

"Alright, a Spartan you'll be then."

Roxanne did a double take. "Wait, what?"

The doctor waved his had as he stood at the foot of the bed with a soft smile spread on his face. "You can become a Spartan. I'll make sure of it; you'll hear from me soon. When you do, take the hospital train north to Fajardo Post-Op Treatment Center. Ask for eighth floor, the Projects wing. We'll be waiting for you."

The doctor started shifting toward the door as Roxanne rose out of confusion, crawling over the bed but only stopped by the wire connecting to her brain scan beanie.

"Who's we?"

The doctor paused as he made to step out into the hallway beyond. Pulling a pin from his coat lapel, he tossed the small piece of metal to Roxanne who just managed to catch it with her overstressed, underused muscles and motor control.

"Ask for me, Mr. Taylor, when you get there. The attendants there will know what to do."

The man disappeared through the doorway and out of Roxanne's sight, leaving her once more alone with the brief beeps of her brain scanner. He called himself Taylor, but his coat jacket had the name "Doctor Renaldo Cruz, M.D." – what was up with that?

Roxanne glanced own at the pin she caught. It was simple looking, painted black-and-white and shaped like a triangle. No, wait, not a triangle but a pyramid. A circle sat at the center. What did it mean?

She sat there for a long while, staring at the pin. The realization that her entire body had been shaved clean in a nanite bath, hair and eyebrows too, now long forgotten. Minutes passed and nurses came by, doctors came by. The 'Taylor-Guy' as she came to call the first visitor, never came back.

Weeks passed. Roxanne went from intensive care to walking the premises of the Salinas Children's Hospital with a small crop of yellow hair just beginning to return to her head. She went from a patient, to a ward and helper. She visited other orphans and children staying at the hospital, telling them how great the hospital care was. Shared and cried over her trauma with the other children who had similar tales of horror.

The loss of her family never went away, but the shock and pain did begin to slip away as she retold the story again and again. Adults in attendance would remark how brave she was, how smart or lucky she was. Roxanne knew her actions were dangerously stupid immediately after performing them that day in her basement, but she lived.

A small smile began to emerge from tight lips – color returned to her cheeks.

She heard that Reach fell in August – she wept that day of, hiding from anyone who looked for her.

The doctors watched a smiling Roxanne run around Salinas and take trips between other hospitals as she came to assist medical personnel with menial tasks, taking samples or paperwork between offices on occasion when digital distribution was not possible. She became a regular helping hand.

Then the day she managed a full smile, she disappeared on a visit to Fajardo. Someone said they saw her around the eighth floor, the one occupied by Naval Intelligence. Her costs were mysteriously settled by government accounts and sealed by medical AI. No one asked after her.

That brave little girl disappeared again, a final game of hide and seek. She was never seen there again. Not really, anyway.

A/N: Hey guys, a fourth, massive entry for Halo: Invisibles. Didn't expect this longer piece to take so long but I ran into quite a few bumps in the road as my plot and narrative shifted and new ideas or realities came up in the face of development. Like this specific entry, my bigger updates have all been dealing with setbacks here and there. I apologize for that and I'll try to get on them soon.

"Roxanne: Hide and Seek" was the motivating piece for the restart of Invisibles with a fresh coat of paint. I wanted to give the characters in my Halo fanfiction war chest proper coverage without being tied to specific narratives and to explore stories that I don't usually get to tell with my bigger projects, thus culminating in Invisibles. Roxanne: Hide and Seek tells the tale of a young Roxanne-D107 in how she survived Reach and how she became a Spartan with a particularly gruesome twist; this is probably one of my darker short stories I've written and I hope for that reason it holds up as well-written and enjoyable.

The story also references particular deep elements to my Halo fanfiction that does go against the traditional thread of Halo canon despite still being technically complaint. In particular, the usage of SPARTAN-III Delta Company. But Delta is a key piece in my sandbox so expect to see more of it in the future.

If anyone has question on the nature of the story, I'm all ears and same for feedback. Until next time, guys.