Read, enjoy, review. This is sorta part two of the first chapter. So in all, about 2.3k words.
Songs: None.

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That sim took about ten minutes, and landed Spartan-43 about thirty kills. Though, none really counted. This was more just friends hanging out. They moved onto another infection game, and it was just a basic "Save One Bullet" scenario. Once it started, he ran for a closed corridor. He easily found one, and pressed his back against the wall, ready to give it his all. He held his Shotgun at his shoulder, looking down the sights.

After a few minutes, something popped up on his motion tracker. It was yellow, so he instinctively crouched. The Elite stepped out. "May I join you?" He asked. 43 let go of the pump and flashed two index fingers. Another Spartan sign. He quickly approached, going to 43's left. It was quiet for a few minutes, the occansional infection popping up. The Elite broke the silence.

"So. How long have you been a Spartan?" He didn't respond. He tried again. "Don't you think we'll get the 'Last Man Standing' marker?" 43 shook his head. "Why not?" Persistent alien, 43 thought. He sighed, giving into the questions.

"Because there are two of us. As long as you and me aren't infected, there won't be the waypoint."

"Don't talk too much, do you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because. Easier to signal."

"That can't always explain everything." He said, lowering his Carbine. "You had to verbally respond to my question."

"So?"

"Well...Since you've answered my questions, I'll answer yours." 43 didn't really feel like it, but since it'd be a while till they came, he decided to humor him.

"Fine. What rank are you?"

"In yours, I'm just below Surgeon. Which I think is a medic..."

"I think you mean: 'Seargeant.' Which makes you a Corporal."

"Yes! And yours?"

"Gunnery Seargeant." 43 felt as if he should introduce himself. "I'm Gunnery Seargeant Sarcasm."

He cocked his head. "Strange name. I've heard of ones like...'Miranda Keyes' or something like that."

"That's my rank...and nickname." He looked hopelessly confused, head cocked. "A nickname is what some people call you. I got mine for my humor."

"Spartans have humor? I thought you were all stoic."

"You thought wrong. That's just the Chief making us all look like that. He's the only one of us who is like that. With no personality. The rest of us...well, before they were killed, all had personalities."

"I see." He said, tone understanding. "So...what is your real name?"

He hesitated. But he decided this'd help getting used to the change. There were a good number of Elites at the base. The base was really just a Pelican hub with barracks. Used to send Spartans to training grounds, keep some sharp, and train others.

"My name is Craig Cogburn."

"I like it. The way it...the way you say it is interesting. Craig Cogburn." He repeated.

"So, what's yours? I'm guessing something that in your culture describes how much of a warrior you are, how all the...Elite-ettes are all over you."

"No, he-he, quite the contrary. Actually, I'm...I'm female." Craig's eyes widend behind his helmet, and he blushed. Thank God he...she couldn't see it. He tried to check for signs, but was in vain. All he could tell was that she wore a Flight Helmet, a Combat pauldron on her right shoulder, a Commando pauldron on her left, with the Ascetic chest-guard. And her colors were sapphire and crimson, the former the main, the latter the secondary, and detail.

"I...uh...I'm q-quite sorry about that..." He stuttered, bewildered. "I just...couldn't tell..."

"It's fine." She assured. "I get that often. I bet you're wondering on how I got here?"

"Yes, but I feel we have more important matters. I think we're about to have company..." Craig warned, noticing that his motion tracker had a few red dots on it. The Sparan, who had the C.Q.B. helmet, as well as the rest of the armor on. Uncreative idiot. He charged, and unwittingly was shot down by Craig's magnum.

"I found 'em! They're in that corridor over by the Mongoose!" The duo heard over their comms. Craig sighed.

"We're fucked." He finall delcared. His tone made it seem as if he just stamped the official status document with the official "Fucked" stamp.

She cocked her head. "I really don't think we're going to mate anytime. If anything, we're going to be killed."

"I, uh...the way I used it is to describe that we're going to be taken down. Where did you hear that?" He questioned, turning to face her.

"Well, I heard some humans talking about it. They were using it more in the: "Oh yeah, baby, fuck me" term I think..." Craig couldn't help but chuckle. How could he not? Hearing an Elite talk like that was downright hilarious.

It took about two more minutes before they both ran out of ammo, and were killed. They all climbed on the Pelican to return to base. It took two trips, and the female Elite he spoke to was on the second trip. So he decided to go eat lunch. A bit late, but there were still people there. He opted against the free lunch the U.N.S.C. offered, grabbing a can of beans. He opened it with his knife he kept in his boot, set his helmet on the table, and took a spoonfull into his mouth.

He got another few spoons before he saw the Elite walk in. She was obviously a bit shy to sit, so he waved to her. She was obviously looking for him, as her hemlet quickly shifted to his hand. She grabbed a tray, got some food, and walked over. But not without a few glares from some of the grudged Marines.

"Craig." She greeted. He nodded to her. "What are you eating?" He flipped the can around, showing her. She made a noise of understanding. He could just tell. "Still don't talk much?" He shook his head. "And here I thought I got someone to help me understand." Now he was curious.

"Understand what?"

"You humans. Ever since the...the war started, I've wanted to know what the dreaded humans were like. Why were they so bad? And now I have the chance to do so, and not a single one will give me the benefit of the doubt." He shrugged in agreement.

"I'll tell you. But I need one thing." She leaned forward, excited. "I never got your name." He said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Did I? Hmm. Well, my name is Veru 'Thamalee."

Craig nodded. "Veru 'Thamalee." He repeated. "Interesting on the way it just flows."

"Thank you." She was apparently ready to eat, so she took off her helmet. It hissed as it de-pressurized. He cocked his head in interest. Maybe it was in the head, the difference between the genders. Nope. She placed it on the table. "I...I like your armor..."

"You do? Most say it's too bulky, but they're also Spartan-III's."

"You're not? And what does that mean?"

"No. I'm one of the few -if not only- remaining Spartan-II's. There's the Chief-"

"But he died."

"Something just tells me he's alive. It's hard to kill a badass like that. And the III's aren't as good. Retreat was not an option for II's. It is for them."

"I see. What does 'Badass' mean?"

"It's a term used to describe someone who does things over-the-top. Not a show-off, but...more heroic."

"Ah. Thank you for explaining."

"It's nothing." He said, then realized he actually had a pleasent conversation with an Elite. Not just that, but a conversation with him saying more than a few words at a time! That was a big deal for him!

"So, what does your food taste like?" She asked, trying to continue talking to him.

"It's...it'd be easier to show you." He said, taking a load of the beans and holding them out. She leaned in, mandibles spread wide, and took the metal utensil in her maws. She spilled a few on the table, and Craig couldn't help but chuckle and smile a bit. She made a noise that he could tell was laughter, and a bit embaressed at that. "It's alright, don't worry. I'll get it." He said, picking up a napkin and wiping them from the table, and some of the mild sauce from her mandibles.

She made another noise that was relatable to purring, and he looked taken aback. "Sorry..." She trailed off, and sunk back. "It's just...I'm a bit...well, happy."

"Why?" He asked. All he did was wipe her.

She began to get up, done with her food. "Because." She pasued a second. "I've made a friend."