Here is the second chapter. Enjoy!
1100 Hours, November 18, 2523 (Military Calendar)
Reach
UNSC Military Headquarters and Naval Shipyards of the UNSC
The plains of Reach were vast and green. Everywhere you looked, beauty was present. A gift to the ever hungry species known as the humans. No one would have thought that beneath this beauty was the military training grounds of a powerful military workforce.
The United Nation Space Corps main staging area for massive operations.
The night sky was littered with thousands of stars, all bathing their light onto the tops of the trees of Longhorn Valley. Three M12 Light Reconnaissance Vehicles weaved their way through the trees, keeping a close proximity to each other and the stream they were following. The hum of the three engines were like the continuous roar of a lion in the silent night.
"Johnny Lead to Johnny Three, How's it look back there."
"Johnny Three here, all's quiet."
"Good. Stay Frosty."
"Roger that."
The heavy mounted chainguns swerved slowly, making sure to cover every inch of the forest floor so as to not get jumped by the group of kids that had been harrassing and humiliating the ODSTs. Simulation after simulation, training exercise after training exercise, match after match, the kids not only outsmarted but completely outmatched the highly trained men and women of the UNSC Marine Corps. But this time would be different. This time they had a proper plan. A massive offensive was taking place 4 kilometers east of their position. The entirety of the 212th Company of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers were speeding on the opposite side of the forest on Warthogs as they allegedly protected a Warthog containing an alleged parcel. A few minutes ago, there had been confirmation that an attack was taking place in order to seize the fake parcel. The real parcel was in the hands of Johnny Two. The contents of the real parcel: a cement block.
"Johnny Two, we've spotted something. Prepare."
The Warthog convoy didn't need another reminder. All eyes were instantly alert and the levels of adrenaline shot up. Around 200 meters in front of them, a fallen tree was blocking the way. The only way around it was through the woods. The other option was…..
"It's a trap." The Major said. "We can't go through the woods. They knew we'd come through here. They're lying in wait." And it also means that the diversion was unsuccessful, he thought. The birds chirped over the sounds of the forest as the Major contemplated on what to do next, but he couldn't think of a way. The objective was still around 7 more kilometers out, give or take one. Plus the raging waters didn't exactly help his thought processes.
Wait a minute.
The Major looked over at the water. The Big Horn River was the a river that ran through the Longhorn Valley. And the best part about it was that it flowed near the objective. The Major smiled for the time since the start of this exercise.
"I have an idea."
.
.
"Cat, they have taken the bait. All is going according to plan."
To people who would have been strolling through the woods, all they would have heard were birds chirping. But to the Spartan-II candidates, it was a language they had developed for long-distance communication. Learn about the environment and adapt. That was the first thing they were taught in survival training. They learned about their environment and then adapted the hell out of it.
"Roger that, Cheese."
Dropping twenty kids into a forest with dangerous wildlife and a company of ODSTs for two days would have normally been a nightmare. But for the Spartans who had lived weeks out in the wilderness before, two days was no sweat.
Two Spartans ran through the forest, barely touching the surrounding vegetation. They didn't say a word as they relied on hand signals to communicate and watched the Warthogs battle their way through the Big Horn river. Normally keeping up with a Warthog would have been a serious problem. But the river snaked in an odd way that made keeping up with the Warthogs a tad bit easier. The log had simply been the bait. The real trap was just up ahead. In fact, the ODSTs would never know what hit them.
Spartan Psycho, a.k.a. Cat, was in position to bring down the Warthogs. His squad's mission was to take out the tires of the Warthogs so that he could go in and retrieve the parcel. One of his squadmates asked for his attention.
"You okay for this, Psycho?" She asked, her fingers and hands moving rapidly. "Those ODSTs may be more bloodthirsty than last time."
Psycho smiled. "I'll be fine. I was born for this," he signed back to his squadmate. She relaxed a little but still had a worried expression on her face. He understood why. Just before the Spartans victory in the last exercise, an ODST had gone ballistic. They had almost fired at a Spartan at point blank range. If Psycho hadn't shoved the ODST out of the way, the Spartan he had been targeting would have died right then and there.
"Just be careful." She said out loud as the squad brought up their makeshift bows and arrows to firing positions. Normally hitting an armored vehicle with a pre-Medieval period armament would never have worked but their points had been modified with military-grade experimental grappling points. Where the Spartans had gotten them? That would remain be a secret. Nah not really. They stole it from the tertiary R&D facility located about 30 kilometers due south of their current position. How did they steal it? I don't know! Why are you asking me? I don't track their every movement!
The roar of the Warthogs could be heard in the distance, drawing closer with each passing moment. "Positions!" Psycho signed with the twirl of his fingers. The group scattered positioning themselves around their pre-designated trees.
The Warthogs came into view, the roar of their engines acting like a beacon for the Spartans like the massive Christmas tree in Old Central Park, New York back on Earth. They reached the trap zone just as the Spartans unleashed their volley of arrows. Nine arrows launched from the trees. Two struck the first vehicle, one hit the middle, and three hit the back. Immediately the lines that connected the arrows became taut and swung the 3 three-ton vehicles in an arc. All three drivers barely had any time to react as they swerved into the woods. The lead Warthog slammed into a tree, damaging the vehicle and throwing it's gunner out. A Spartan caught the gunner before they managed to hurt themselves on the ground. Although the mission didn't specify, Psycho wasn't about to let an ODST die while he was in charge. Even if they were the enemy.
The other two vehicles were much luckier. Having had more time to react, the middle Warthog driver wrenched his wheel sideways and managed to dislodge the arrow from the vehicle. It teetered for a while on it's side before firmly landing back on the ground.
"Go! Get the package to the objective!" the Major said, bringing his sidearm up. The Major aimed into the trees and fired at the nearest blur. The stun bullet lodged into the dirt a couple hundred meters away as the Spartan dodged out of the way.
The Warthog driver hesitated then nodded, flooring the accelerator. The Warthog whose gunner was still on the back fired a volley of stun bullets into the trees. But the Spartans were faster and a well aimed rock slammed into the man's helmeted temple, knocking him unconscious. The man tumbled from the back and onto the grassy floor of the forest. A Spartan notched one of the spare arrows and launched it at the Warthog speeding away. He missed and the arrow landed in the water. The remaining ODSTs had arrows in front of their faces before they could react.
The girl who had worried about Psycho looked out at the speeding Warthog. Her face was grim but she knew there was nothing they could do about it. They had a second team on the lookout a few klicks out but even they wouldn't be able to stop the Warthog.
The Spartans had lost their first exercise.
She turned back around to the squad. They all knew what she was thinking and simply gave a nod to her before turning back to securing the prisoners. But something didn't feel right to her. No not something.
Someone.
"Where's Psycho?"
.
.
Psycho mentally kicked himself. He hadn't thought of what he was doing when he had jumped. But he had done it anyway. And now he was currently clinging on for dear life to the metal of a Warthog while it was doing a hundred kilometers an hour. Tied into the fact that it kept bouncing from the rough terrain, he had to bend the metal in order to keep a foothold on the vehicle. The mission had to be complete no matter what. Even if it meant risking his own life.
He began to swing his body and slowly started to gain momentum. All he need was to get on the top. After that it would be easy. With a massive heave, he pulled himself onto the top of the moving vehicle and was met with the boots of an ODST. He noticed him and gave a small yelp just before he was silenced with a quick slash at his windpipe. The man gasped for air and lurched forward, nearly tumbling out of the Warthog. The woman in the sideseat noticed Psycho and pointed her weapon, a BR55 Heavy Barrel Service Rifle, and fired.
Time slowed to a crawl. The movements of the ODST slowed down to follow it. The wind battering on his face became more of a soft touch rather than a punch in the face. The roaring water became a bass thrum. This was, what many had dubbed, Spartan Time. Augmentations had been given to them. This was Psycho. This was his own true self. This was him at his finest. He was born to be a soldier.
But he didn't want to. He had never wanted to.
And so he hesitated.
The rubber bullet shot out of the handgun, narrowly missing his forearm as he dodged out of the way. Without thinking, he grabbed the M6's massive barrel and lifted it up. The next two shots were shot in the air and became harmless. Psycho immediately dispatched the ODST, not even giving her another chance to recuperate. The driver slammed the brakes but Psycho was ready for it. Instead of catapulting forward and onto the ground, he grabbed the bar in the center of the jeep and arced to knee the driver out of the vehicle. A sharp crack told him that the ODST's cheekbone would be in need of serious attention if not tended to in time. He landed in his place and sat down.
The Warthog came to a stop and for a brief moment, everything was still. Psycho looked at the little box next to him. The package had been taped neatly in between the driver and passenger seat. Now all he had to do was drive it to the rendezvous. But it would be better to simply dump the vehicle and take the package with him. But he had made one mistake. One mistake that would change his life.
The gunner had only been temporarily disabled. Now recuperated, he stumbled forward and swung with full force, the butt of his rifle, right into Psycho's head. Pain blossomed into existence as it connected, nearly knocking him unconscious. The hit would have killed any other human instantaneously. Still, no one could withstand a proper blow to the head. Not even a Spartan. All Psycho could do was watch as he was dragged out of the car and plopped onto the ground. He groaned and tried to move but could only slither a little.
"Ha! How does it feel now! Now we win! First time we win! You lose!"
Psycho breathed heavily. There was no way he would recover in time to retrieve the package. There was no way.
The ODST's face appeared in his vision. "Everytime we tried so hard to win. And yet we were out baited and outsmarted by children…..CHILDREN! You're just a child! A CHILD!"
It was true. He was only twelve years old.
He cocked his handgun. "And yet you beat us over and over and over and over AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER!"
The ODST fired his gun twice, both times in each of his ears. Psycho screamed out in pain. He tried to speak but he couldn't. The pain was too much. The barrel loomed over his head once again. "And you know what! I'm sick out it! Let me show you how we work in the real world. Let me show you a path to adulthood. Let me show you what it really feels like.
Psycho seized up. He was gonna die. Even if it was a stun bullet, at such a close range, he could die just like any other bullet. He was going to die. No. NO! He couldn't! He wanted to live! He wanted to do more! More than what ONI wanted him to do! More than be a Spartan! This wasn't his choice! They had made him.
So let me take over.
Yes. It would be nice.
Don't worry. Pain's an old friend.
Suddenly the pain disappeared. He lashed out at the gun, pulling it in. The trigger pulled and the bullet shot next to his head. He twisted the gun, breaking the ODST's fingers and dropped him to the floor with a quick swipe to the forehead. Now he stood over the ODST with the gun pointed at his face. His trigger on the finger itched but he didn't say anything, simply staring at the cowering human before him. The ODST curled his hand around his broken fingers and looked at the boy in front of him.
"What…...How….Who are you?"
The Spartan pondered at the thought. What would he call himself. He had only just been born. It was more of a surprise than a long term thing. Then it struck him and he smiled. It was an evil smile that gave the ODST a chill that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The few seconds he had to live that is.
"Name's Hallelujah, Assh-"
He fired.
1400 Hours, February 12, 2567 (Military Calendar)
New Carthage
Backwater planet in UNSC territory
The rifle shifted .02 degrees to the left just before it fired and the bullet missed the Sangheili by two centimeters.
"HOLY-" Hallelujah squeezed the trigger of his sniper rifle but was rewarded with a little click. Empty. The Sangheili Elite disappeared behind a building and Hallelujah roared in rage.
Hallelujah realized that it wasn't his movement that had made him miss. It was the original owner of the body who had hindered him. "Psycho, you-!"
Get back in!
Suddenly the body of Psycho trembled as two personalities fought for control. Psycho, in the end, won and finally assumed control.
I could have taken him!
"But it was too close to the Captain. Now be silent!" Psycho said.
Hallelujah obeyed. He was tired from all the fighting anyways. Might as well keep his sanity in check.
Psycho commed the Elite. "This is Petty Officer Psycho-1537 of the United Nation Space Corps. To whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking to." There was a short pause before the Elite spoke.
"Sangheili Captain Val'Sektor of the Free Sangheili Empire."
"Captain. I do not know what you intend to do with the Marine, but it would be kind of you to KEEL OVER AND DIE!"
Hallelujah took over suddenly, catching Psycho off guard. Psycho could nothing but watch as Hallelujah continued the conversation he had previously started. This time with a vengeance. "You listen to me piece of Sangheili scum. When I find you, and oh I will, I will make you pay for-"
The Val'Sektor crushed the radio with his hand and threw away the now useless piece of metal. He didn't want to hear what the Demon was going to say. He had seen enough during the years of the First Covenant-Human War to know that they were not beings to be meddled with. Still, there was something about this Demon that made him feel…...odd. Especially the woman currently slung over his shoulder. Like how she wasn't exactly resisting right now. It did not matter. He signaled a Phantom to come pick them up and the blue Type-57 Dropship glided gracefully near the ground. He turned back to his Squad.
"Return to the Battle. I will take this one up personally. Continue to aid the civilians and stay safe." He paused. "For the Queen."
"For the Queen." They repeated back in unison and promptly disappeared behind their active camouflage.
"You've been silent." He asked the Captain slung over his shoulder. By now the soldiers he had taken taken prisoner had always struggled for a while before succumbing. But with her, she had been silent the entire time
"Contemplating, really." Rachel replied. Her voice seemed far away as if she were in a deep thought.
"About what?"
"Whether I should kill you and escape."
The Guard Captain shuddered. In the way she said it, he knew without a doubt that she was capable of doing exactly that. Especially when she could say it with a needle round still buried in her thigh. "I do not doubt that you could. But if you wanted to, I presume you would have done it a long time ago."
He climbed into the Phantom and winced from his wound. It seemed that they were both wounded from their fight. The Phantom took off as the explosions continued to ring out in the distance. Multi-colored fireworks splayed on the ground as the battle raged on. Bullet after bullet, plasma after plasma, buildings crumbling to the ground. All they did was take lives.
If only he knew how to stop them.
.
.
1400 Hours, February 12, 2567 (Military Calendar)
Beta-Gabriel
Military Production planet in UNSC territory
A ship exits slipspace, it's hull shining slightly in the glow of the system sun. A call goes out to the orbital defense currently in orbit. Although this ship could easily overwhelm the defenses if need be, there was no need to. They were, after all, friendly forces.
"This is the UNSC Nightstalker requesting clearance to land on planet surface for VIP asset."
As the message goes out a pelican prepares to leave with Lord Dillon's departure with a seven man security detail of ex-Spartan I's that survived the first stage of the program and continued public and private military services. Each of them were given the training a little beyond ODST standards. This was only possible due to them being successfully augmented with only some minor mental defects. The only problem was their age. Although augmented, they were still human.
After landing on the surface, they would proceed to command and control where Dillon would inspect the command staff as well as go through overviews of the different training regimens and construction schedules to make sure that they're operating at peak efficiency. This would anger the construction crews as well as some of the drill sergeants but they would abide and give him what he wants out of both respect and to keep him off their back. Though he would notice this, He would ignore their charades and look to the facts. After his inspection, he would head back to his designated quarters in the planetary headquarters and review his findings.
[Infantry training: 78% efficiency]
[Naval crews training: 67% Efficiency, although seems to be improving due to new staff.]
[Fleet construction: 89% efficiency, a new valiant class and Orion class is being worked overtime by the construction crews in some kind of race. Unknown what the price will be, but though they have increased, they're double checking their work to make sure their progress is not overlooked.
Armored vehicle training: 94.6% efficiency, cruise of all variants of armored vehicles are working prolifically. Although it appears to be motivated by a wage increase.]
[Specialized divisions training: 96.3% efficiency, all troops our selected because not only do they have the skill but they want to be trained in this area. They are disciplined elites and they will become more after the training is complete. Although their progress still impresses me.]
[Auxiliary training: 56.6% efficiency, No volunteers are motivated. Need serious improvement.]
His report goes on into specifics after that. It would also suggest new training regimens as well as advertised another attempt to his new program.
Codenamed: The Colossus Project.
Lord Admiral Dillion Greenhalgh cracked a smile in what had seemed a long time. It was nice to see that his program had finally been accepted. And it was fitting to do it on the planet where the Start of the Orion project was first established. The planet of the failed Spartan I's. But there was one thing that he needed to confirm before he headed to start that project personally. He opened his communications channel with the current Leader of the UNSC, Jossana Escott, waiting for a few minutes before she answered. "What is it?"
"How go the fleet preparations?"
"We're just about ready to jump." She replied. "And why are you asking me? You take orders from me, Lord Admiral, not the other way around."
Lord Admiral Dillion Greenhalgh gave a dry laugh. A laugh? That was most definitely new. "Old habits die hard, I assume. But it's good to know that Strike Force Phoenix is ready."
"Yes it is. You should see this Dillion. It's beautiful."
"I will. When the time comes. But for now…." Lord Dillion smiled once again.
"It's time to take back New Carthage."
A little Meh but this was more of a background on Spartan 1537 a.k.a. Psycho a.k.a. Hallelujah. The last section was written completely by Lord Dillion himself. So shout out to him! Thanks for reading!
Credits:
Turkey_Tessa (Sangheili Captain/Server Admin and Main Scenario creator)
Hiryu Kumori (Spartan 1537 Psycho/Hallelujah)
LordDillon1 (Lord Admiral Dillion Greenhalgh)