Chapter 2:

"Train up a child in the way he should go,
And when he is old he will not depart from it."

- Provervs 22:6, the New King James Bible.

2210:

Raids on Human worlds pick up once again, the first few hit-and-runs produce empty colonies and overwhelmed defense flotillas. At first it is thought to be rebels attempting new tactics, but when non-Alliance Species bodies are found in the war zones, Rebel causes are quickly written out. The colonies hit by the mercenary groups all share similar signs: They were extreme outer edge colonies, with a limited AAF presence, if they had one at all, and all citizens from the colony that weren't killed during the resistance, are simply missing. Few details at all are available on who could be doing the invasions and mass-abductions, but the Alliance's civilian populace is quick to assume that it could be the events that lead to the next series of Mercenary Wars.
Many civilians in the Alliance Outer Territory make desperate outcries for more Armed Protection, as they fear further attacks. Army personnel numbers are bolstered as a result, but little else is done as the Alliance sends more ships out to scout the Relay Colonies.

2211:

The Gaian Rebellion picks up the pace as reports come that rebels have begun using weapons of mass destruction upon Alliance Armed Forces. Reports on weapon identities have varied from chemical/biological weapons, to nuclear weapons, to weaponized antimatter.

The Quarian Race hits an unprecedented population level as they continue to rise, their number hits twenty five million for the first time since before the Geth Rebellion.

Reports begin circulating that the Quarians are pushing for Human assistance in retaking old territory from the Geth, but the Alliance Parliament is too deeply divided upon the subject to reach an answer.

2214:

As the SIGMA II's reach teen ages, the Alliance sends in special agents to inquire as to the status of their training. Four squads of three SIGMA II's each is pit against a squad of SIGMA I's in a paralyzing paint match. Despite the II's best efforts, they can only take down two of the five of the SIGMA I squad, though the fact that they took down two was something both the Director for Augmented Affairs, and Christopher McGraw mentioned was unprecedented.

July 8th, 2215

It took only a single utterance of "WAKE UP!" For the eighty teenagers that made up the ranks of SIGMA II Delta Company to begin scrambling from their beds.

In the years since their recruitment into the program, the children-turned-teenagers were progressing beautifully towards full-blown augmented soldier-hood. Their bodies were now beginning to go through the stages of puberty, which only allowed their trainers to drill and train them thrice as hard as before. Despite this, it was well known that any of the SIGMA II's were at least as effective as an Alliance Soldier, and were well on their way towards surpassing the Marines in skill.

Today, however, was different, and John S2-15 was not the only one who noticed.

As Joseph Ducard entered the barracks, everyone tensed up at his ever-so-subtle scowl. Each of the SIGMA Teens could tell that something had made him angry, and as two more SIGMA I's entered the room carrying boxes, only a few of them noticed how the last to enter the room seemed to have spoken an order to someone outside.

"Atten-shun!" Shouted Ducard, and everyone in the room immediately snapped out of their post-sleep reverie, and snapped to attention. "Ladies, today the very last of you has made his first step towards manhood." He stated, his voice deep, everyone in the room knew who he was referring to, Jeffrey S2-77 had turned thirteen just this morning, marking the last SIGMA II in Delta Company to turn teen. "That means we've got to start treating you all a lot harder…" He paused, and nodded his head forward, the other two men with their boxes came forward. "And that also means we're going to start trusting you… With a lot more than what we have in the past." He stated, reaching into one of the boxes and withdrawing a pistol and a magazine.

With instinctual precision and blinding speed, Ducard slapped a magazine into the gun, chambered a round, removed the safety, aimed the weapon and fired at a light fixture on the ceiling, in the gap between the two lines of SIGMA Teens. Ducard and the other two super soldiers noted with a sense of pride how none of the teens moved during the demonstration.

"This, ladies, is a Special Forces Pistol." Ducard stated, flipping the safety back on. "It holds a sixteen round magazine with room for an extra round in the chamber. It fires as fast as you can pull the trigger, and can shatter the shields of an Alliance Marine in three shots. It fires magnum rounds, so even if you - by some miracle of god - miss your target, it won't be pretty for the guy it ends up catching." He explained, "This gun and its brother, the Special Forces Rifle, has served the Alliance Special Forces faithfully for each and every war we've been in, and that includes the Gaian Rebellion." He looked to his left, John could almost feel his pupils dilate as it registered that he was the one being looked at.

"Two Fifteen, front and center." Ducard called.

John marched forward, "John S2-15 reporting as ordered, sir!" He called.

In an instant, the gun was placed in a shocked teenager's hands. "This gun is yours. It is your ticket to life itself." Ducard stated harshly, "Without you, it is useless, and without it, you are worthless. This -" He pointed to it "- Is how war is fought, so this is what you keep upon you at all times." He paused, "Now give it back."

Without hesitation, the teenager gave the gun back, but immediately regretted the action when the pistol whipped across his face a moment later.

"A good SIGMA NEVER gives up his sidearm!" Ducard roared angrily, "It doesn't matter who asks for it! A two-bit mall cop on Earth, or the Director for Alliance Affairs himself! You never, ever give up your sidearm! Even if you've no ammunition for it, you keep the damn thing! Without it you are weak." He continued, "Without it you will die!" He shoved the pistol back into John's hands, which were slightly covered in the blood that was leaking from the teen's nose. "Now give it to me." Ducard ordered.

"Sir… No sir." John hesitated only for a moment before denying his superior the weapon he'd been given.

"Give me the gun, John!" Ducard ordered, leaning down and getting right up in John's bleeding face.

"Sir no sir."

"That's an order child, give me the gun!"

"Sir no sir!"

"And don't you forget it!" Ducard nodded with a slight grin, before he gave the teen a belt, with a holster, two magazine pouches - both filled with two magazines each - and an empty clip for a portable radio. "Now everyone line up, and get your weapon!" He ordered, "And if I see one damn safety off before we leave this room, you're all missing breakfast!" This made something click in John's mind, and he looked down; upon noticing that the safety to his gun was in fact off, he switched it back on, wondering if Ducard had left it off on purpose, to ensure they would miss breakfast.

John returned to his bunk and quickly dressed himself. His old belt was now replaced with this new one; he felt that the unfamiliar weight on his hip would soon become anything but unfamiliar. Upon his hip was an object made only to kill, and though John wouldn't admit it, his mind was already going through dozens of scenarios in which he could successfully kill the men in this room, with the ammunition he had.

In five minutes, the entirety of Delta Company was dressed and armed. The fact that the three SIGMA Ones had yet to leave, told each of the eighty teenagers that there was something else waiting for them, John couldn't help but wonder if it was waiting outside the room, where the SIGMA Operative on the far left had told him to wait.

"Now… I'm sure you're all wondering why you've yet to go out on your morning physical training run." Said Ducard, John and everyone else in the Delta Battalion immediately noted the return of the loathing tone to his voice. "Well… I'll be blunt and simple, because you've earned the right, to deserve that." He paused, then looked at the SIGMA Operative on the far left, and nodded. "There is a man in the Alliance, who is partly responsible for the funding this program receives. This man is a perfectionist, wanting to make what he calls a 'perfect child', and anything less to him is a failure on his end." He explained, as the operative walked to the door. "Simply put, his experimentation in Human Perfection gave him exactly what he wanted… But for reasons I'm not at liberty to discuss, she's found herself here for the next month. Call it punishment, call it continued perfection… Call it what you will, you've all got a new friend for the next thirty days." He finished, as the operative opened the door and bade the mysterious woman inside.

John's head was abuzz with questions that he almost demanded need answers. He knew that there were some private funders for the SIGMA II program, not everything they did could be funded simply with taxpayer money, and very little of what they did was legal in the first place, so private sector funds were required at points so they could continue their super soldier creation. But no names had ever been spoken to the SIGMA Teens, and if John would be honest with himself, this had to be the first time Ducard had spoken so honestly to them. Was that a sign of trust? Or a sign of how against this idea he was?

All of these thoughts froze in their tracks when he saw a woman, who couldn't have been older than him, enter the room behind the SIGMA Operative. Much like the SIGMA Teens, she was wearing a simple uniform: The Black T-Shirt, with red highlights and lines on its sides, the black and red digital-camouflage jacket, the similarly colored and camouflaged pants, and the black combat boots. Her hair was much, much longer than anyone in this room's was, but when John looked at it he noted that it wasn't longer than Dr. Mossman's, which was neck-length, and it bore the traits of a fresh cut. The Drill Instructors must have made a compromise with whomever had sentenced this admittedly beautiful, and assumedly teenage soul to the hell that was on planet Sparta.

"This, Men, is Miranda S2-106." Ducard stated, as the SIGMA Teens lined up along their barracks, by instinct alone; they all knew that if Ducard began speaking, they should line up and listen, as if their lives depended on it. "Whatever the hell this idiot did -" John didn't miss the shocked, but rebellious look in the girl's eyes when she had been insulted in a way that was common place for the SIGMA Teens "- landed her in the singly most brutal military school on this side of Alliance Space. For the next thirty days, she will be a part of your family. You will train with her, you will eat with her, you will learn with her, and by god you will fight with her before this month is out." John could tell, just by the look in the girls' eyes, that she was already planning some sort of escape, he recognized the look in her eyes, it was the very same one behind the eyes of every SIGMA II trainee: It was the look of a ruined childhood, of a stressful life.

Ducard must have noticed the look too, or he had been informed ahead of time of the reason she had been sent here. He leaned down very close to her right ear, and though it looked like he was going to whisper, he did anything but. "And if you even think about using whatever you think you might know, to try and escape this planet… Ask them about Michael S2-172." He threatened her, before he stood up straight.

"Line up outside! We run in fifteen!" He ordered, and just a moment later the SIGMA Teens were rushing for the doors.

Miranda was obviously confused, she had no idea what to do, and John noticed. The SIGMA Teens, however, seemed too absorbed in their instinctual 'get the hell out' actions, that no one stopped to help her. John slowed down just enough to grab Miranda's flawlessly skinned left arm with his callused right hand.

"Come on!" He advised, pulling the teen along with him without breaking stride, "you do not want to disappoint them!"

In eleven seconds, plus the two that John had cost them in dragging the new recruit out with him, all of the SIGMA Teens were all lined up and ready for their run. For the first fifteen minutes of the run, everything was as normal as SIGMA life could be, but the SIGMA Teens' luck ran out after that first fifteen minutes ran dry, and the newcomer's stamina began running low.

"Why are we slowing down?" Came Ducard's deep voice, interrupting the cadence he'd been leading.

"Come on, speed up!" John hurriedly whispered to Miranda, barely out of breath himself.

Miraculously, the raven-haired girl was able to hear him over the sound of her rasping, wheezing lungs, but her response was one that sent shivers down John's spine, "I can't!"

Oh no… Went through John's mind, before Ducard ordered everyone to stop moving.

"What… Did I just hear?" Asked Ducard, who hadn't broken stride, and was now literally jogging circles around the SIGMA Teens. "Who said the magic words? Was it you, Jeffrey?" He demanded, honing in on the few-hours old teenager. Jeffrey responded with a solid 'sir no sir', and Ducard took him on his word. "What about you, Bill? You never were one for the run!" He shouted.

"Sir, it wasn't me, sir!" Shouted the Teen in question.

John spared an instant to look from Ducard, to Miranda, who was doubled over, gasping for breath. At this rate - "oh, it was you!" John silently cursed.

Ducard strolled up to the two, "Two Fifteen, why in God's blue Earth did you allow her to slow down?" He demanded, John made an attempt to answer, but Ducard cut him off, "Miranda, the only one here with a three syllable name and a two digit sentence. What gave you the idea that you could slow down?" He asked, "do you know how much time we've lost?" He demanded.

Miranda, finally regaining her breath, looked to Ducard with a slightly confused look in her eye, "I… Just a few seconds?"

"The first and last words that will come out of your mouth will be SIR!" Ducard roared, "and I count forty seconds and counting, girly!" Ducard stated, "do you know how much can happen on the battlefield, in forty seconds?!"

"Sir no -"

"I'll tell you what can happen in forty seconds! Your entire defensive line can crumble, your entire squad could be taken out by rebel snipers, or alien suicide bombs." He listed, "you yourself could be pumped full of so much lead all of your pearly little skin and underdeveloped tits would be ripped from your body, and you'd bleed out, before half of that time had even passed!" Miranda had wisely not reacted to his statement, "all because you thought you could slow down!" He leaned close to her, "I've got news for you, girly. For the next thirty days, you are in Hell. For the next thirty days you are a soldier! I will work, train, and if I have to beat as much of the civilian out of you as I can, in the next thirty days!" He paused, "but the spoiled little rich girl act will probably soften the blows…" He straightened up, and then looked at the person immediately to his right, and Miranda's left.

John silently groaned, as he knew what was coming.

"Two fifteen!"

"Sir?"

"You're in charge of this one." Ducard jammed his large, augmented finger in Miranda's face, "any mistake she makes will be counted as a mistake made by you, and you will receive her punishment on top of whatever I give you!" He said, "for the next thirty days she will not eat, drink, or dig the panties out of her butt without you knowing, and praying she doesn't do it in a way that disrespects or dishonors the image of the Human race! Is that understood!?" He demanded.

"Sir yes sir!"

"I don't think that's fair, sir."

Silence. John felt his blood run cold, and his pupils dilate.

She… Did… Not. He shakily thought, using his peripheral vision to see Ducard's slowly widening eyes, and the rebellious look on Miranda's face. John knew he daren't even breathe, this girl had just put him on such thin ice, he could see the fish underneath it.

"And what do you think would be fair, woman?" Ducard asked slowly.

John silently begged Miranda to stop speaking, the other SIGMA Teens, all shared John's sentiments, because they knew it would be their heads on the chopping block should Miranda unwisely use her tongue.

"If I made a mistake, I should be the one to be punished!" She said, her Australian accent thick with rebellion.

Now I know why they said never to let girls into the SIGMA II program. Thought John, as he could almost see Ducard's face twitch into a smile.

"Well… Let me show you what I think." He said, bringing his smart watch up to chest-height. The holographic suite quickly sprouted forth, and in seconds, he had opened up a communications channel to the nearest training supplies center.

In less than fifteen minutes, all of the SIGMA Teens were on the move again. Each of them held an extra thirty five pounds on their back, all of them having been air-lifted to them. John was holding an additional thirty five, thanks to the word Ducard had come through on. Miranda had thankfully grown silent, though John was almost certain that it wasn't because she was angry that she was being punished, but she was angry that Ducard had mocked her, by severely decreasing the speed of their fast jog, to a fast walk.

A half hour passed, and on their return trip, all of the SIGMA Teens were sweaty, tired, and in possession of sore backs. John had refused to allow the seventy pound weight on his back defeat him, but it was made harder by the fact that Miranda had begun silently - or, he knew, her excuse for silently - complaining about the weight, and the jog.

When they reached the mess hall, and ended their run, Ducard ordered everyone into attention. The heavy breathing from the SIGMA Teens was thankfully ignored by the instructor, but they would soon realize that any admonishing would be replaced with a worse punishment, Ducard was heading for Miranda again.

John, sweat pouring down his forhead, and his lungs burning both through the need for more oxygen, and the simple exertion of expanding and compressing them as much and as fast as he was doing, almost prayed that the girl wouldn't talk back to Ducard. He knew better, though, her track record so far was a one hundred percent 'back talk' reputation, so he didn't have much to hope for.

"So." Said Ducard, quietly, "what have you learned?"

"That what you're doing here is inhumane!" Miranda said, making to slip the weight off of her shoulders.

"I didn't say you could remove the weight." Said Ducard, "did I say you could remove your weights?!" He shouted.

"Sir, no sir!"

Came the responding shouts of each of the SIGMA Teens.

"Put it back on." Ducard ordered the sweaty teen, she did so, but not without growing a scowl. "Now… As to your question… We aren't Humans, girlie. You know what SIGMAs are. You should know that 'inhumane tortuous experience', to us, is barely even a warm up." He paused, "now what have you learned?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't do it, Two-One Oh Six!" Came the voice of a SIGMA Teen.

"Seriously -" John repressed a smile, that was Justin's voice, "- shut up Two-One Oh Six!"

"All I've learned is that one mistake made by me is felt by the others! One mistake made by another is felt by me!" John, his eyes still forward and his expression still stoic, was inwardly screaming for her not to bring up the 'fairness' argument again. "It's just -"

"Remove your weight pack and give it to John." Ducard ordered, John heard the other SIGMA Teens groan, they all knew what was coming next.

Miranda, however, did not, and thus refused, "why? Are you going to -"

"That is an ORDER! REMOVE YOUR WEIGHT PACK!" Ducard bellowed, shocking Miranda into giving John another thirty five pound weight pack. "Now… Everyone, aside from miss Two-One Oh Six , drop and give me fifty. Now!" He ordered, and in an instant the eighty SIGMA Teens were on their hands, and on Ducard's count, were pumping out pushups.

With the seventy pounds, John had had a rough time keeping up with the jog, but with one hundred and five extra pounds weighing down his back, it was nearly impossible for him to keep up with the pushups. It seemed that, for every set his fellows finished, he lagged behind by a second. It took them all ten minutes to knock out all fifty, but Ducard kept them all on the ground, upright, for another five minutes, and by the time they were all allowed up, their barely pubescent muscles were already sore and burning.

"You've got fifteen for lunch." Said Ducard, "you know where to put the weight packs."

John, the seventy nine SIGMA Teens, and Miranda, all entered the mess hall. They deposited their weight packs where instructed, and within minutes everyone had food and was eating. John, Justin, and George took their customary positions at the farthest end of the table in the center of the room, where they made idle conversation.

"I can't believe she stood up to Ducard like that!" George said, his accent only seeing to thicken itself as he grew older.

Over the years, George had only ever seen fit to become more of a giant of a kid. Even at only just above thirteen years of age, George was already five feet tall, and it did not look like his growth, in size or in muscle, would stop at all. His tan white skin had only ever seen to deepen, and still in spite of his monstrous, brutish appearance, he still had a kind look behind his eyes.

"Oh hell, George, admit it, you would've done the same." Said Justin. Justin had aged far more gracefully than George, a lot like John had. His dark skin and lean bone structure had only thickened, and his muscles - while not developing as fast a George's or John's - were becoming thicker bi-monthly.

"Hey, I punched the recruiter." Said George, "hold no preconceptions, I won't punch an actual operative!" He, Justin, and John laughed.

The three continued to make idle conversation, burning through their food as they did so. It was only after they had finished eating, did John notice something that, in most other environments wasn't strange at all, but in an environment with eighty teenagers who had gone through everything but War together, it was completely peculiar.

"Holy shit, look at that." Said John, nodding to Miranda, the only person in the entire room, who had an entire section of a table to herself.

Justin and George turned around, and saw what John was seeing. Justin shrugged, while George caught on to John's train of thought.

"You're not seriously…"

"Hey, for the next thirty days, she's one of us, right?" John reasoned.

George pointed to the table right next to Miranda's, that had several people actually sharing seats, in an attempt to stay away and isolate the outsider, who'd made the beginning of their day a living hell. "They would disagree…"

"They just need time to warm up to her." John said, getting to his feet.

"Want us to come along with you?" George asked, though he could almost tell what John would answer with.

"I'll call you over if I need you… But I don't think I will." John responded, before he strode across the mess hall.

Without any greeting, John plopped down into the seat next to the lone, raven-haired, impromptu teen soldier. Miranda looked at John apprehensively, her dark blue eyes betraying none of her inner thoughts.

John eventually extended his right hand, which had slowly - over the several years he'd spent on Sparta, with the SIGMAs - grown its own rough, callused exterior. "John S2-15." He greeted, casually.

Miranda stared at him for a few moments, before she took his hand and shook it. John was surprised, despite her delicate-looking frame, her grip was surprisingly strong. "Miranda Lawson." She said.

John's head popped up and he quickly looked around, no one had heard her, which he was thankful for. He looked back to Miranda and lowered his voice, "here, Miranda, you don't have a last name. No one who is in the SIGMA Two program, has a last name. I don't have a last name." He paused, recollecting her serial number, "You're Miranda S2-106, here. Alright?"

She looked at him incredulously for a moment, before she nodded. "Alright… Miranda S2-106."

"Good job." John straightened up, "so what on God's blue Earth did you do, that pissed your Dad off so much he sent you to Hell Camp?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Hey, your childhood can't be any worse than ours." John chuckled.

"You know… I've met SIGMAs before… None of them are as open as you are." Miranda commented.

"Well, the SIGMAs you've met were augmented, had combat experience, and were on duty." John said, "on-base, you'd be surprised, the Ones are quite Human. They make jokes, they laugh, they eat."

"What about you 'Twos'?"

John shrugged, "we've a familial bond with each other. Any one of us would take a bullet for another. Even if they weren't from our company, we'd do it."

"There are more of you?"

"Six hundred twelve." John supplied, "and any one of us would be willing to take up arms and fight to the death for his buddy, be it from his own company, his own squad, his own bunk, or from another company, another squad, another bunk."

"Then…" Miranda turned her head to the SIGMA Teens to their left, none of whom made any indication that they had been listening or looking at Miranda and John, though John had picked up the subtle signs, the perked ears, the determined forward stares, the works. "Why do they act so cold to me? You're the only one today that hasn't called me 'girly' or looked at me like I was some kind of alien." She said, her Australian accent thick.

"Well... Simply put, they don't know you." John said, "and you don't know them. The mutual strangerhood is essentially keeping you apart. But trust me when I say, just stick it out, they'll come to trust you like a sister." He explained, "one thing it may take you a while to learn is that us SIGMA Two's have a bond with each other, like no other military unit out there. We are literally being raised in hell, alongside each other. Any one of us would give their life to save another... And given time, any one of us would give our life to save you."

"How do you know that?" Miranda inquired, dubiously.

John shrugged, "It happened once before... But everyone had a reason to dislike him."

"Who?"

"You'll probably be seeing him soon." John nodded.

"Okay..." Miranda frowned, "why are you acting so nice to me?"

"Aside from the fact that it's my ass on the line whenever you screw up?" John chuckled, "I tend to be ahead of the pack... And I happen to know that one weak link in the chain can destroy the entire unit. So even if I'm wrong, and no one here comes to like you, I want you to have at least one friendly face to look for."

"But -" John caught it before it even entered Miranda's situational awareness.

The seventy nine other SIGMA Teens caught it a split second after John. In an instant, John's barely pubescent voice roared and cracked "GRENADE!" as the non-lethal flash-bang was dropped into the mess from the skylights.

John locked his arm around Miranda's waist and brought them both hurtling towards the ground, just as the grenade came mid-way between the ceiling and the ground, and detonated in a massive, blinding, deafening explosion. The next few seconds wasn't the utter chaos such an attack would cause, in any other situation or location, but rather the results of five years of solid, day-in, day-out training.

SIGMA II Delta Company, and all eighty one SIGMA Teens therein, switched from a 'casual' state of mind to a full on 'battle' awareness. In the few milliseconds between the flash-bangs detonating, and the several fully-armed and armored SIGMA I squads roping into the building, storming the doors, and removing their tactical cloaks, the SIGMA Teens were reacting in their own way.

Attack! John could almost hear Ducard say, Is the best defense! You get hit with an ambush, you don't set up a defensive line, that's just what they'll want you to do! You fight fire with fire, you fight BACK!

And that was just what the SIGMA Teens were doing. Everyone was picking up their newly issued arms, flipping tables to create cover, flinging dish-trays to create distractions, and forming up in their squads to create unit cohesion. John, however, was unable to reach Justin and George, the other two in his three-man squad. They were on the other side of the room, and running across it would put them at risk of being hit with the SIGMA I Operatives' paralyzing paint rounds.

A military-training evolution of paintball, Paralyzing Paint rounds were exactly as advertised: It was paint that, when it impacted its target, rapidly hardened and solidified, to the point of incapacitation, should they hit enough or in the right places. They could only be undone by ultra-sound, not at all unlike pre-dispersed Cell Fluid. It was common knowledge among military recruits: Paint was hell to clean off, even after it had been reverted to a liquid form and simply slid off.

But it was all irrelevant at this point in time, as John called on his limited biotic training to erect a sturdy-as-can-be barrier between him and the wall of paint fire.

"Miranda! Stay on my ass, don't you dare leave my sight!" John ordered, "now back up! We need -" He exerted a lot of energy to flip the table they had just been sitting at, onto its side, "- to get to cover!"

"Alright!"

"On three!" John shouted over the gunfire, as his free hand went to his pistol. One of the things John actually enjoyed about Hell Camp was that they had all but forced the SIGMA Teens to become ambidextrous, John could reliably fire any pistol he found, with either hand. He demonstrated this by confidently retrieving his pistol with his left hand, undoing the safety, and chambering a round. "One!"

"Wait, one two go, or one two three then go?" Miranda desperately shouted, as she ducked her head down at the sound of more gunfire.

"Two!"

"John, you didn't answer my -"

"THREE!" John let his barrier fall, as he rose to his feet and laid suppressive fire against the oncoming Super Soldiers. Immediately he realized just why this weapon had felt like it had a different weight than the other ones he'd held, it too was loaded with paralyzing rounds. Four shots from his pistol were ushered, before John ducked down and then ran to the table for cover.

John joined Miranda, who - the teen noticed- was also enveloped in a biotic barrier. John wasted no time, "you're biotic!?"

"Yes!"

"Have you used it in combat?!"

"I've been trained in biotic mar-"

"That's not what I asked, have you used it in combat?!" John heard several paint rounds slam into their table, they were being targeted.

"I've -"

"Yes or no?!"

"Yes!"

"Then you make a barrier on three!" He said, before he looked to his rear, he saw at least eighteen SIGMA Teens, all hiding behind an overturned table, each taking turns breaking cover to fire. "For them!"

"Them?!"

"Them!" John whistled loudly, attracting one of the teens' attention. He made a quick series of hand-signs, and the teen got the idea, he passed it along, and in seconds all of the still mobile teen soldiers were waiting for John's word.

"I don't think I can hold it for -"

"However long you can hold it is long enough!" John raised his voice, "ONE!" He heard more fire being directed to them, he knew what was coming, "TWO, THREE!" He rushed.

Immediately, the fruits of his efforts were bared. Miranda threw up a barrier big enough for the SIGMA Teens to run alongside, albeit with their heads ducked and their legs tucked. The SIGMA Teens, on John's word, rushed the gap between their table and John's. In moments, two became twenty.

"What do we know?" Came the voice of a SIGMA Teen, as John delegated suppressive fire to the ones with the smallest frames, at the edge of the table.

"Looks like five three man squads!" John called out.

"We have numbers on them!"

"But they have equipment on us!" John looked around, "they aren't using grenades, nothing lethal, at least." He pointed out.

"What do you suggest we do?" A SIGMA Teen demanded.

John thought for a moment, and decided that a crazy strategy was better than no strategy at all. "We grab this! -" He slammed his fist onto the overturned table, "- we get everyone else to grab their's! We make a SIGMA II Zone, right there in the middle of the room!" He pointed to where he wanted to set up, "they'll surround us, and that will make it easier for us to find targets!"

"That's a stupid plan, John!" A SIGMA Teen called out.

"Do you have a better one?"

"We hold our position -" The kid, almost immediately, was covered from head to heel in paralyzing paint.

"I vote John's idea!"

"Seconded!"

"What are we waiting for!"

"Okay! Move fast!" John ordered, "heaviest lifters, take a hold of the table's supports!" He indicated the iron bars on the underside of the table, "biotics, reduce its mass! The less distance we have to drag it, the better we are!" He ordered, "the rest of you, suppressive fire! Watch your shots, and go for where their shields are weakest!"

"That's TITAN ARMOR!" A SIGMA Teen shouted, as he glowed violet-blue with biotic energy, "what weak spots?"

"One!" John said, "two!" He prepared himself, and gripped the iron bars with his strong hand. "THREE!" He pulled as hard as he could, and thankfully he, and his brothers in arms, were able to drag the table, the biotics helped, but no one had good training in that area - not even John, so the help was temporary at best.

"MAKE A RING!" John heard a young voice shout.

"Stop them!" He heard the deep, synthesized voice of a SIGMA I Operative shout.

"Give them suppressing fire!" He heard a SIGMA Teen respond, as the sound of more gunfire, and more tables scraping along the ground joined John and his allies' efforts.

In mere seconds, they had an octagonal ring of overturned tables, stationed in the center of the room. There were still two tables unaccounted for, and those tables were being used by the SIGMA I's. Those that didn't fit behind the table, were deploying cover spheres, John repressed a curse at that.

"Head count!" John shouted, as deeply and as loudly as he could.

"Sixty one uninjured! Two with various leg/arm/body injuries, but still mobile! The rest are down!" He heard George's accented voice call out, John noticed he indicated to the 'dead' as he did so.

"Alright!" John shouted, "here's what we do! We have numbers on them! There are only fifteen!" He shouted, "I want twenty of us -" He indicated the few half dozen on the left side of their ring of tables "- you all! You watch our backs and declare tactical cloaks!" They nodded and retreated a bit, to begin their jobs. "I want you five -" He indicated George, Justin, the biotic that had helped them earlier, and two other SIGMA Teens, "you take our injured and you keep them safe!" He looked to the rest of them, "we don't have their ammunition supplies, but all our guns take the same magazines! If you've got extra magazines, swap them! We can win this!" He shouted, "if you don't have a job, you're shooting!"

John took cover behind one of the tables, and almost immediately heard his labors bear fruits. People were calling out ammunition checks, enemy positions, tactical cloak shimmers, everything. Over all the noise, of gunfire, of the shouts, John couldn't possibly miss the unmistakable 'clink' of a flash-bang grenade slamming onto the ground.

"Flash-bang!" John shouted, before he ducked his head down, clamped his eyes shut, and covered his ears with his arms. Half of the SIGMA Teens were fast enough to do so, and the rest were slightly slower, and they all suffered when the grenades exploded, blinding those too slow.

"They're advancing!" John heard, muffled through the ringing in his ears.

"They don't pass our tables!" John ordered, breaking cover and sighting down the first SIGMA he could see.

The SIGMA had his augmentations, and his battle instincts on his side, in addition to his equipment and shields. But John had just over fifty SIGMA II recruits on his side, and already those that were affected by the flash-bangs were shaking off the effects and getting battle-ready once more. John emptied his entire magazine into the SIGMA Operative in front of him, seven shots were what it took to deplete the man's shields, but the rest of John's shots were absorbed by his armor. But John had numbers on his side, and in seconds the SIGMA - who reacted just an instant too slow in diving for cover - was covered in paralyzing paint, and frozen.

"We got him!"

"Keep firing!" Ordered a smiling John, as he ducked back behind cover to reload, but what he found horrified him, even as his body instinctually carried out his mind's commands.

Miranda S2-106, their newest company-member, was doing nothing. She wasn't providing barrier support, she wasn't launching biotic death, she wasn't taking the pistol off of a nearby 'deceased' SIGMA Teen and using it to fight, she was literally doing nothing. No activity, on the outside of their ring of tables, meant a weak link in their defensive line, John knew this, every Human in the military knew this, and they knew that it was horrifying.

And the worst part was that the SIGMA I Operatives noticed before John.

"Justin, help -" It was too late, someone shouted out in warning that he saw a cloak shimmer, and just as several paint rounds soared through the air to slam into a shielded, invisible figure, said figure let loose with automatic fire.

Miranda scrambled for a horrified John, who was attempting to take out the SIGMA One, but that action was reflected by everyone else present. Every SIGMA Teen was firing at the cloaked figure, and while they succeeded in 'killing' the man, in seconds they were all surrounded.

"You're surrounded!" That was the unmistakable voice of Ducard, fully armed and armored in the very same armor none of the SIGMA Teens had seen him use in months, "BAM! -" To emphasize his point he fired his rifle and 'killed' another SIGMA Teen "- you're dead! All of you!"

John and the other SIGMA Teens knew their instructor was correct. After a moment's hesitation, they all lifted their pistols in a sign of defeat. In fifteen minutes, the mess-hall turned war zone was devoid of gunfire, but filled with SIGMA Teens with mops, buckets, sponges, and everything in between. Ducard wouldn't let their work get them out of a lecture, though.

"What have we drilled since day one of your combat training?!" Demanded Ducard, who was clad in full armor, save for his helmet and his mask, both of which were magnetically clamped together, and held under his arm. "Your defensive line means everything!" He looked specifically at John S2-15, who stood in front of him at attention, he being the only one in the room not working. John had been unanimously selected as the recipient of the harshest punishment, thanks to his taking charge of everyone and giving them all orders, during the gunfight. "Your idea, making your own borders, it might -" Ducard emphasized the word by shouting it in a deep bellow "- have worked, had you not let your newest recruit man your defensive line!" And that was why John's punishment would be twice as hard, he was essentially taking care of Miranda, and thus, her wrongs were his, so at its essence, because she let the defensive line break down, he let the defensive line break down. Her rookie mistake was his rookie mistake, and John knew just how he was going to suffer for it.

With the SIGMA II's, outside of their own minds during training, they had extremely little free time. Their only true 'free' time was spent during their sleeping hours, from Eleven PM Alliance Standard Time, to Five AM AST. Originally, that hadn't been much thanks to the SIGMA Kids being too exhausted to even think about thinking, but as they matured they found themselves being less and less tired at bed time, and thus, had time to think to themselves. Sleep time was, to a SIGMA II, his own, personal time, and John's punishment would be the removal of said time.

"You will not be sleeping for the next two days!" Ducard sentenced him, "if our biocomms even think you've fallen asleep, no one, not Delta Company, not Alpha Company, NO ONE will be sleeping!" Ducard shouted, "have I made myself crystal clear?!"

"Sir, yes sir!" John shouted.

"Then get to cleaning! If this place isn't spick-and-span in the next fifteen minutes, you'll all be getting food paste for dinner tonight!" Ducard shouted.

A/N:

Now, a lot of you may be wondering why I brought Miranda into the story as I did.
Well, simply put: Call it a bit of plot-advancing wish fulfillment. When I'd first come up with the ideas for the SIGMA II's, I'd been heavily into my first ME 2 playthrough - first ever, folks - and the idea got stuck in my head: What if Miranda had to go through S2 training? What'd happen?
I promptly forgot the idea a week after I figured out you could romance Tali but it came back to me as I was drafting TSW, and I thought: What the hell, why not? And I worked it into the plot.

Also folks, I've begun throwing up the Edited Chapters for TFW! You can see which ones are edited and which ones aren't by checking the Chapter and looking for the - Edited - tag. I've only got the prologue up now but very soon I plan on putting up TFW 1 - Edited -.

Remember folks, I'm constantly updating my profile with the status as to my stories! Check it out if you're looking for news, release dates, or just want to know what's going on in the mind of the FartBurger.
Untill Next Time!

-PFB