Draken was surprised at the appearance of the Brute barracks. They were cleaner than some marine quarters and filled with what looked like regular men instead of the brutes that humans had nicknamed them. He kept his thoughts to himself and walked behind the Jiralhanae to his commander's office. This too was well kept, and currently occupied by the general, seated at a desk and seemingly working to improve attack strategies. That, or it was a game he played with an unseen player, judging by the self-moving opponents.
"General, I have brought Draken," he introduced, the general looking up from his datapad. "I told him about your proposal and thought he might like some training before his trials." The officer nodded and gestured for Draken to sit opposite him, dismissing the Jiralhanae and waiting for the door to close before speaking.
"I can say with certainty that our training is the most difficult out of the rest of the Covenant," he said, voice gravelly.
"I know this, but I can do anything you set me to," Draken said, equaling the general's steel. He nodded.
"Just thought you might like to know what you're getting into first. We focus on using whatever tactics are necessary to achieve our objective, our reputation as bulky savages often helps with that. You'll be doing conditioning first, and then move on to combat after."
"Sounds alright. When and where?"
"Now, and in the yard," the general said. "Find an instructor and ask for drills, they'll get you started." He gave a salute that Draken copied, and dismissed him.
Even for a Kligher body the training was harsh. He was put into a weight suit that tripled his mass, and then sent into various exercises: 30 miles of running, a full body workout, and even agility training, all done in a room that was heated to 130 degrees. Thankfully, plenty of water and salt was on hand to refresh him, and buckets of ice water cooled him off. Over the next week, he got used to the heat and used the buckets less, going farther and faster with all of his exercises. When he could push himself no further he moved to CQC and weapon training. He used speed to his advantage, and his newfound strength ensured that he always hit hard enough to make anything hurt. Dashing in and out of his opponents range with ease, striking and escaping before they could attack. He began to favor a pair of knives on his belt, as well as a sort of pistol-like shotgun and a rifle. He was deemed battle ready by his instructors and thanked them for the training they'd given him.
Still, he wanted to learn more. He went to the Elites next, three weeks left before his trials, and asked to be trained. It turns out that there were quite a few squadrons that were either eager or ordered to help him succeed, and the Elites were no exception. The Jiralhanae had ensured he was ready in the physical department, but they lacked the Elites finesse with weapons. He learned to use everything in the Covenant armory, plasma pistol to shade turret but learned his most sought-after skill after everything else: the plasma sword. Nobody but Elites even knew the first thing about this weapon, but he would learn every nuance of it. He spent his last two weeks mastering the weapon, and every style that was used to wield it, developing his own when he wasn't being guided by the Sangheili instructors.
After all of this effort, he still had a promise to keep. He met the Brute general in the yard where he'd spent hours sweating gallons and tearing muscle. The only weapons allowed in this fight would be their bodies, toughened and calloused by training.
They stood across from each other in the hot sand wearing only shorts, a ring of spectating Brutes silently waited for the fight to start. Their stances were ready for the first move of their opponent, shifting slightly with each change in stance the other made.
Draken made the first move, sand exploding out behind him as his feet pounded the ground towards the general. His head scraped past a blindingly fast punch that cut open his cheek and he spun on his heel to slam his thick tail into the general's gut. He was surprised that instead of knocking the wind out of him, the Brute instead only grunted at the attack and trapped his tail in his vice grip. His bones creaked under the pressure, but the pain did not distract him from the elbow whistling towards his back from above.
His back let out a dozen pops as he twisted out of the way of the general's descending arm, now horizontal in midair, and he used the opportunity to land an elbow shot of his own on the collarbone. Another grunt of pain, but no snap of bone. His tail was squeezed harder, the flesh strung around protesting bones no doubt bruised by the steel trap of the general's hand.
He gripped the Brute's head before he could bring up his arm to defend himself, and landed the first strike of the match as he put his strength into a brutal knee to the side of his opponent's head. The crowd audibly winced at the sound of the blow reaching even the back of the group. Even with such an attack the general was going strong, and he landed a blow of his own on Draken as he slammed a fist into his lower back that lifted his whole body.
Draken gagged as the breath was forced from his lungs. Unable to draw air, he repeated his last move and kneed the Brute's skull again. With a growl of pain and rolling eyes the general finally released his tail and took a few unsteady paces back. Draken thumped into the sand and lay there, mouth working like a fish as he tried to start his lungs working again. He wheezed, gulping lungfuls of hot air as he got back to his feet and turned his focus back on the fight.
The general shook his head as Draken stood up, vision clearing of stars as he watched the Kligher gasp while hunched over. More wary of his opponent's speed, he approached with a sure pace and raised arms to guard his head.
Still recovering, Draken stumbled out of the way of a knee targeting his head. The kick to his torso right after sent him tumbling into the sand again. He took a moment to steady his breath before kipping to his feet and bringing up his guard, receiving a nod of approval from the general. They walked close enough to touch, and then their attacks blurred past each other again; a punch that bounced off of Draken's skull and a kick that drove the Brute's knee out wide.
Draken took advantage of the loss in balance by slamming his foot on the general's toes and delivering an uppercut that threw his head back. Again he was blinded and stumbling, but he stayed on his feet and kept his hands up until his sight returned a few moments later. Any more hits like that and he would be out.
Draken was surprised when his opponent sprinted for him, steps beating the ground like thunder. The general caught him over his shoulder and lifted him up, intending to slam him into the sand. Draken tripped his legs with his tail and took the fall with the Brute, turning the slugfest into a grapple. Having an extra limb gave the Kligher a decisive advantage and the general was caught in a chokehold shortly after, having to use a free hand to smack the sand to signal his defeat.
"That was a good fight," the general smiled, shaking Draken's hand. "Maybe next time I'll beat you."
"It was, and you might," Draken smiled as well, enjoying the contest as much as the general had.
The time of his trials arrived, and Draken was ready. Once again he stood before the Prophets, and he was shocked when he heard what his mission was.
"You are to find and eliminate The Demon, the one called Master Chief, of the humans," Regret said, making the Honor Guard Sangheili in the room shift uncomfortably at the name. "Bring us his head, and the title High Judicator shall be yours." Draken didn't know how to react. The best fighter in UNSC history, the greatest hero of humanity, the hope of every soldier; this was his target? He'd fought everything from Grunts to Hunters, but not only did he not know if he should, he didn't know if he could. His answer was calm, unlike his thoughts.
"It shall be done, my Prophets." He was dismissed, and he thought of every way possible to complete his mission without actually killing the Spartan while he prepared to hunt for Master Chief. When he left High Charity in a personal Phantom, he still had nothing.
He followed the reported sightings of The Demon, jumping from planet to planet on his hunt, and finally found him on some backwater colony that had been overrun by Covenant. They were in retreat when he arrived, the stragglers getting pickled off by the scant few UNSC forces still alive, and headed by the Master Chief himself. With regret, he got in a Ghost and rode out to meet him.
The two opposing sides stopped a hundred yards away from each other, Draken and Master Chief with caution, the marines with confusion. Draken stood from his Ghost and called out across the dirt to the hero.
"Before this happens, just know that your men will be spared and that I'm sorrier than I can say for what's about to happen," he declares, unsheathing both of his plasma swords.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Master Chief asks but stops when Draken charges with incredible speed across the intervening distance, and he dodges the first two swings as he starts to fire his rifle at the new alien. Draken is dangerous and unpredictable, and almost faster than the Chief, but the Spartan's years of experience keep him alive, even if he's kept on his toes. The Marines don't know what to do and stand back from the fight.
John finally gets an opening, and holds both of Draken's wrists in his hands, struggling to keep him still. "Who sent you?" he grunts out, shaking with the effort of holding his enemy at bay.
"The enemies of humanity," Draken answered sadly. "Ones that I can't eliminate at the moment, and have ordered me to kill you to prove my worth. It's your head or mine, and humanity's end with both. But you have a better chance with me around so I'll take your head." He wrenches Chief's head up and punches him in the throat, kicking off of his stomach to dodge the knife slash that he threw. Draken draws his own knives, and the gradually slowing Master Chief and he engage in hand to hand. Slash, punch, knee, kick, slash, counter, knee, they fight fast, both going to kill. Another temporary stalemate is reached, and Master Chief grunts out another question.
"Why do… you fight for… humans?"
"Because I didn't die," Draken replied, "I went missing in action. You must have heard that somewhere before, Chief, and it's one that applies to both of us. The last Spartan on Reach, the first Kligher seen in millennia, and both are trying to remove your head." With a grunt, Chief breaks Draken's knives, and takes a shotgun blast to the stomach from Draken's pistol for the move, dodging the second as he puts distance between them. He is tired, bleeding, and not losing to this Covenant lackey.
"Chief, he's weak on his right knee, see if that can give you the upper hand," Cortana suggested inside of John's helmet, and he drew an SMG to fire at the limb. Draken dived forward over the shots, managing to pump two rounds of heavy crystal into Chief's visor, cracking it.
"You should recognize a ruse Chief, especially one like that," Draken said. "Or did the AI in your helmet suggest the attack?"
"How did you-"
"I delivered that AI, Chief," Chief paused, wondering how he knew about- "I know you were on the ship I sent it to, cryo-frozen, not doing a thing to help the planet she left. Remember when you chose me, Cortana? Remember my Commander's last words? That you made the right choice? I'm still hoping that he's right and that I can end this war with three bullets. It's going to take quite a few more before that to take down the Chief, and you helping will only waste ammo."
"Cortana? You know him?"
"I…" she was in shock, unable to answer. "I thought… how did he…" her muttering was interrupted by the next attack.
"I know your training, I know your ally, and I'm not out of steam," Draken said, regret and grim determination turning his voice to cold iron. "This fight is over when I say it is, Chief," -he kicked down Chief's shields, clawed across his chest to spin him, and shout out the backs of his knees, and the Chief fell to them, growling in pain- "and it's over now." He reloaded his weapon, slowly lowering it to the back of his neck when he stopped and pulled Cortana out of John's helmet, storing her chip in a belt pouch. "Last words?" The Spartan forced himself to quiet, and shakily said,
"Cortana… wake me… when you need me…" Under his helmet, Master Chief closed his eyes, preparing for his death. Draken fired, and Chief's head thumped into the ground, severed by the shot. He bagged it, helmet and all, and left quickly. The stunned Marines left as well, spreading the news of the Master Chief's death.
Draken dreaded returning to High Charity, mostly because of the difficult conversations he'd have with Cortana. He pulled her chip from his belt pouch, and set it into a holotank terminal. She was sitting on the ground hugging her knees when she appeared and looked at Draken with digitally tear-stained cheeks.
"Why did y-"
"I didn't lie during the fight," he interrupted, shoulders heavy and face neutral. "I was on Reach, you chose me, I delivered you to the Pillar of Autumn, and held my ground until the last moment fighting off the Covenant."
"Then why, Noble Six?" she asked, voice cracking. "Why would you kill off the hope of humanity, and what are you?"
"If we're going to talk, at least call me Markus," he asked, not looking at her. "I've explained why I did it: I'm in the unique position of becoming the High Judicator of the prophets, and was assigned to eliminate Master Chief to prove my worth. With his head, I've bought my way into their trust." She tried to ask a question but was cut off again. "Believe me, I know the consequences of that fight: morale will drop like a stone with the news of his death, while the Covenant's will surge and even more deaths will occur. I weighed my two impossible options and found this to be the most favorable outcome, the one with less time enduring war, at the cost of a higher casualty rate for a short period of time."
Cortana had nothing to say, what could she? It was logical, and even if other options had been open – taking John's helmet and sparing his life, or attempting an assassination before Markus had been assigned – Master Chief would have kept on fighting, and Markus' cover would have been blown, or he would have been intercepted and his cover blown regardless.
"So what now?"
"Now, I play a part, and you keep a low profile. I'm keeping you close for your own safety, and making sure that you don't fall into Covenant hands." Draken stopped, Drayk showing his face for the first time in a while.
"Oh, by the way, I'm here too," he said, pushing Draken's face into a grin. "Think of me as a form of multiple personality disorder, with the origin story of a two-thousand-year-old alien corpse soul planting itself in Markus' head. I may do this from time to time, but you'll be able to tell when I come up for air."
Cortana sighed. "Great, can this awful day get any weirder?"
"Well, when you say it like that…" Drayk said, pointing a finger at Cortana's avatar, currently glitching out and obscured by static. She looked down at her hands, horrified, and seemingly in pain.
"What-what-what-what's hap-hap-happening t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-to me-me-me-me-MEEEE-?" she asked, glitching out even more before freezing, and shutting down the holotank. Drayk gave control back to a concerned Draken, who tried to get her to come back online. He couldn't and decided to leave her be until further notice, starting his slipspace jump back to High Charity. She came back online the second day in, and both of them were in for a surprise.
"Oh my god/Merciful skies above," Draken and Gutrot said at the same time, gazing down at the two AI avatars now frizzing on the holotank projector.