"But I'm telling you there's something out there!"

"And I told you beat it!" Simon had to jump ahead, stumbling onto his hands and knees to avoid falling face down in the dirt. He turned around, ready to pounce back only to find the door slamming shut behind him. "Don't come back here unless you got business punk!"

Simon snarled through clenched teeth, but a quick glance around confirmed that, as usual, anyone who wasn't out right ignoring him was looking at him like a side show. He settled for a few more curses under his breath before stuffing his hands into his pockets and trudging back toward the Warf and the water front. As soon as his catch was in and stored in the few ice-dust lined crates he had, Simon immediately tried to gather the few other fishermen and sailors he thought he could call friends and investigate the … whatever it was. Simon knew he had never seen anything like, and he'd probably never forget it, but he seemed to be the only one.

So far none of the other fishers, townspeople, or anyone for that matter, was talking about a metal monster falling out of the sky in a ball of fire. Simon cringed at his own description. Maybe he did sound crazy after all. He was just starting to rethink his curiosity when something, or someone, ran into his legs.

"Ooff!" He turned around and quickly knelt down when he recognized the tiny form now sitting at his feet.

"Now what are you doing all alone?" He asked, helping the small girl onto her feet as she brushed off her faded gray dress. When she didn't say anything and kept her icy blue eyes on the ground, hands pinching at her dress he knew what was up.

"Engel, did you run away again?" Her only response a quick darting glance up through her thick head of shoulder length black curls, but it was all the answer Simon needed.

"Come on then," he groaned, offering her his hand. "Let's see how todays catch tastes."

"Y-you're not gonna take me back?" She asked nervously, only now meeting his eyes fully, and reminding him just how cute the little girl looked with one of her long curly bangs falling over her right eye.

"Not yet," he smirked, making Engel shrink back a little with a scowl on her face. He knew he shouldn't, but the girl was just too adorable when she got into a mood. "But seeing as its the third time this month you've managed to give Umbra of all people the slip, I think someone deserves a treat. Lunch is on me."

With Engels hand in his they headed back to the Warf, through the narrow streets and alley ways that became a maze every morning when the various vendors and merchants opened to sell what they could before the sun drove everyone back inside. He kept a tight grip on her digits, careful not to let her slip away, by design or the congestion of bodies all around them. Engel only came to his waist at most, so for her, if was like walking through a moving forest of giants.

But he didn't need to look down to feel the child shifting her shoulders, the anxious flexing and stretching of her back and torso against some invisible force. This was how he always found her when she managed to slip Umbras grasp, wandering the streets and looking as uncomfortable as a long tail cat in a rocking chair store. He had his theories, make no mistake. Simon knew Engel didn't love visiting his shop just for his moms the fried fish recipe, but the view it gave her over the harbor and piers. And more importantly, the sea birds.

He caught her staring all the time, the six year olds eyes wide and awe struck as she watched the feathered fliers take off and land almost effortlessly, then go soaring back into the cloudy heavens. He recognized the other look in her eyes too, a dreadful, painful longing. She wanted to fly. Then Simon realized she could, in fact she had. Right out of the young fisherman's grasp.

He snapped back around, looking down through the crowd's legs for the familiar mess of black hair, only to realize two things.

"I lost her. Umbra's gonna kill me."

Outside the still creaking hull's wreckage, the Menagerie waves had resumed their attack on the shore line, battering the super carriers hull like it was just another cliff.

There was no warning before the lazy foaming surf exploded, erupting like a geyser as a sleek purple ship burst from the water, its twin engines roaring over the crashing waves as it dragged itself and the vehicles slung beneath it into the sky. It was almost a loud as the Phantoms pilot.

"HOLY CRAP THIS THING MOVES!" Miguel ripped off his helmet, silently thanking whoever was listening the Phantoms main flight controls were a covenant joystick, and at the same time praying the Taurus' pilot didn't try any of his usual stunts with their getaway ride.

"Easy!" Mekek snapped from the co-pilots seat, likely holding on for dear life. "Water and plasma don't mix! Push the engines too hard you're gonna!" A snarling twisting explosion finished the grunts reprimand for him, the glowing head of the Phantoms left engine vanishing in a shower of sparks and bright blue flames.

"THOMPSON!"

"It was probably broke before I got it anyway!" The Spartan enforcer screamed back, already angling the transport into a climbing bank, up away from the wreck and over the cliffs. Mekek quickly rerouted power away from the burning engine, stopping the flames but dropping their speed.

"We have ten more minutes of flight left before the other engine goes too," he snapped as Torres forced his armored shoulders through the half jammed doors and into the cockpit.

"Just find somewhere we can unload," he groaned, glaring hole into the back of his seconds helmet. "I'd rather have wheels on the ground than your ass in the sky any day. Mekek, can you fly this thing?"

"I am able," Nal said, padding up behind the Spartan, almost as if he was trying to be heard.

"Then take over," he said, giving Nal a look that said Thompson had no vote in the matter. As the elite muscled the Spartan pilot out of his chair, Miguel hauled him out by his less battered left arm.

"And you," he sighed leading Thompson out of the cockpit. "Hold still." Thompson nearly objected, about to tell his commander where he could shove it and force his way back behind the controls when Miguel grabbed his limp shoulder, and the pain returned en masse.

Back in the cockpit, Mekek was doing his best to keep them flying, but his natural curiosity wouldn't let him leave well enough alone.

"Nal?" He ventured, not bothering to look up. He knew the young Sangheili would never take his eyes off the screen before him. "Was this smart? Running?"

"You spoke true," He said flatly. "Whispering Piety will never fly again. Once it was clear you could only fix so much, your usefulness would have been at an end." Mekek slumped back into the copilot's seat, knowing Nal was right. Without the title engineer on his name he'd be just another unggoy to the Elites, cannon fodder for any enemies they might make, wherever they were.

"You really think we can find Harka?" Nal said nothing, his focus completely on his task, or at least it appeared so.

Could they find him? He knew he'd seen Harka being abducted, that he couldn't have any doubt of. But what guarantee did they have he was even on this planet? And where were they anyway? The topography and readings blinking across the control console looked to him like any other human world. Similar trees, landscapes. Even the air patterns and weather conditions all matched the countless worlds that now weighed on Nals heart. If they were on a human world, this would be a very short escape for he and Mekek. But if they weren't …

Could he trust them? Could two covenant turn coats really afford to put their faith in three Spartans? If this world was one of theirs they would turn on them in a heartbeat, but if it wasn't and they were indeed stranded, then Nal's search had just become much more complicated. His obstacles it seemed, were only just beginning.

"Thompson needs a medic," Torres said returning to the door, standing between and behind the two ex-covenant. "The bio-foam's holding but he needs a doctor, soon."

"We are approaching a break in the forest," Nal supplied quickly. "We may land there."

"There's a ridge line coming up," Mekek added, turning to face the Spartan commander. "Scans aren't specific, but there might be a cave we can hide the Phantom in."

"Then go for it," he said tiredly, leaning back against the cramped walls. "What about signs of a settlement?"

"Nothing," Mekek admitted sourly. "No plasma readings, no air traffic, not even a comm signal. Whatever planet we're on, its either deserted or a primitive backwater."

"I don't know about you," Wade half yelled from back aft, sitting beside one of the Phantoms stored side turrets. "But I'll take empty woods and rednecks over those black and white freaks any day."

"Red necks?" Nal asked, glancing up at the Spartan soldier.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Miguel sighed, leaning away from the wall and forward slightly as Mekek banked the Phantom up and over a rise in the terrain.

"There," he said pointing to a cavity on the display grid. "That looks like a big enough cave."

"Hold this position," Torres replied, pushing his helmet back down as he exited the cockpit. "Wade, we're going down." For once the Spartan recruit said nothing, simply hopped to his feet and pumped the action of his old teammates shotgun. Between the tension and the quiet, Miguel couldn't help himself as they dropped down the Phantoms gravity lift.

"One small step for man."

Leap! Dodge left! Roll forward!

Gabi's mind was drunk on adrenaline, her training clouded by survival instincts and the primal thrill of the fight. She parried another Beowolf's strike, its claws glancing off Wash's axe head as she brought York up from beneath, recoil from three dust rounds driving the blade through the Grimms gut. She kept moving, spinning with Yorks momentum and bringing both weapons over her head to block another Beowolf's hammer strike. The ground beneath her compacted and cratered as her body and aura took the blow, before Gabi spun beneath it, twisting from her feet up putting the Grimm off balance and tumbling forward before Wash and York's blades found its knees. She spun again, axes raised and ready to leap at the next pounce. So far she had crippled one beowolf and maimed another but even without a scroll beeping in her ear she could feel her aura waning.

Gabi cursed. Most other hunters could clean up a pack no problem, but her lack of a long range weapon meant she had to get up close to kill Grimm, playing right into the beowolves' claws. She might have enough aura left for her semblance, but it only hid her image, not her scent, and she couldn't risk channeling it into a strike without draining herself completely. Five beowolves were still circling her, the four smaller Grimm taunting her as a much larger, older, and heavily armored Alpha snarled its commands.

"Well?" she asked with half a laugh, sweat pouring down behind her hood. "I haven't got all day chicken legs."

"Looks like she'll fit," Torres said, walking out of the cave that was to be their hideout for now. "It'll be tight, but its deep enough that if we move some brush no one will see the Phantom."

"Great," Mekek growled, the grunt now half hanging half head standing in front of the transports damaged engine. "Because this is gonna take me weeks to fix!"

"One problem at a time," The Spartan soldier sighed. "For now let's just get that thing inside and hidden." The grunt obliged, mumbling through his mask about pilots and miracle workers before hoping back inside the cockpit and power up the engines long enough to hover the transport into the cave. Torres walked over to the center of the rocky clearing where Nal and Wade were taking stock of their supplies.

The vehicles were more or less in working order, the Revenants only slightly looking their age, and the Ghost only sported a handful of palm size scorch marks. Firearms wise their prospects were mixed. Besdies what they had managed to carry with them off the shop, the had a dozen and a half plasma grenades, 14 needler crystal cartridges, eleven batteries for Nal's carbine, and three plasma pistols, not including the one Thompson traded for his borrowed M6. The Spartans weapon stock wasn't much better. The SAW only had four drums of ammo left, eight shots for the grenade launcher, and Wade's smg was on its last pair of magazines. The rocket had four rounds left, and the shotgun only the six shells still loaded. Torres knew he only had seven magazines remaining for his pistols. If the Covenant decided to come after them before the Phantom was fixed, they wouldn't last long.

"We must go," Nal said, storing his weapons across his armor as he walked up to the Spartan, mandibles splayed slightly and his eyes twitching left and right. "We cannot linger here."

"Afraid your old buddies will come looking?" Wade laughed, holstering his smg, a plasma pistol, and a pair of blue grenades. Torres didn't expect the elite to share in the joke, but it wasn't anger in the sangheilis voice either.

"Can't you feel it? These woods, this place. Something watches our every move, as if the very trees have eyes."

"You said it yourself there was nothing on the scanners," Thompson added. "And last I checked those were set for human and covenant signals and bio signs right?"

"Yes," Nal said, still anxious and light on his feet. "But the creatures we encountered did not register on our radar, nor heat vision. As if they were not truly there at all."

"Okay will you frigg'n stop?!" Wade snapped, suddenly rounding on the Elite in pure unbridled frustration.

"Cease what?"

"That! The whole super eloquent space dino thing! Just talk normal for one minute will ya?!" As Wade started in on a tirade, venting all the frustrations his snark had accumulated in the rough hour since their mission began, Thompson walked over to his commander, seeing a familiar tension in the Spartan leader's shoulders.

"Boss?" He asked hesitantly, even when he already knew the problem.

"I'm fine," Torres heaved, his breathing obviously constricted inside his armor even as the faint rattling of metal sounded from his weapon.

"The hell you are." The enforcer grabbed Torres by the shoulder, turning the Spartan until they were visor to visor. "How long since your last dose?"

"Thompson."

"How. Long." The Spartans locked eyes, waiting for each other to back down, but Miguel already knew his second wouldn't.

"24 hundred hours last night," he said robotically, hoping the half answer would placate his teammates concern, but Thompsons gaze never wavered.

"And?" His commander silence was all the answer Thompson needed.

"Dammit Miguel, how many times have we told you not to do this?! You know what comes after one of those nightmares! You having a panic attack is the last thing we need right now!"

"You don't think I know that?!" Torres hissed, voice low to avoid the others ears. "I'm the one who has to live through this shit! The only Spartan in the UNSC with a friggin anxiety disorder."

And no meds, he added silently, realizing he might be just as much a liability to his teammates as the other obstacles mounting against them, not including the animosity already escalating between a certain Spartan recruit and Elite.

"And you prattle on simply to hear your own voice!" Nal roared, fists clenched and mandibles splayed in sheer frustration. "Must you make every circumstance and misfortune into a joke?! Or can you not take satisfaction that my former compatriots and I are now stranded in your kinds midst?!"

"You really think this planet's one of ours?!" Wade laughed as the elite crossed his arms.

"The fauna certainly matches that of your worlds." That got Torres attention. A quick glance around the clearing that surrounded the cave mouth confirmed that much of the brush did resemble earth species, from ferns and pines to wild flowers and grasses.

"Well here's news for you split-lip: we ain't on any human, forerunner, or covenant world! Not unless one of your planets has one of those!" He jabbed a finger up into the sky, making the Spartans, Elite and Grunt now waddling out of the cave crane their necks up to see the mid-morning ghost of a shattered moon hanging in the sky.

Gabi bit down, blood filling her mouth as she felt herself skip end over end across the ground, until her back collided with a tree. But more than the hammer blow that knocked the wind from her lungs, Gabi felt the sickening snap of her Aura breaking. She could feel blood trickling from the edge of her lips, but she ignored it. She had too. Of the seven beowolves that had caught her by surprise, only one remained. That wouldn't be a problem, if it wasn't the Alpha.

Thinking back Gabi really did wish she paid more attention during Grimm Studies. The lectures were long, incoherent rambling, but now she was face to face with very real evidence of Grimm intelligence. The Alpha had been toying with her the whole time, letting his pack tire her out and drain her aura, the younger Grimm taking Gabi's attacks while they depleted her aura to the point all it took was a well-placed strike to send her flying.

The huntress forced herself to stand, York shifting back into tomahawk form as she trained Wash's sights, only to feel the gut wrenching weight of an empty magazine. A flick of the wrist shifted it back to melee mode, and behind bleeding lips she recited an old battle prayer Derrick had taught her.

Lo there do I see my father. Gabi tried to imagine an old face, worn with time and worry.

Lo there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers. She tried to picture a smile, full of love and caring, warm and welcoming alongside a line of faces so much like her own.

Lo, they do call to me, and bid me take my place among them. She imagined them standing side by side, arms out and reaching, offering, waiting for her. Ready to let her remember.

In the halls of Dragonaire, where the brave may live on. The Alpha snarled, teeth flashing as its claws flexed, pawing at the ground in rabid anticipation. Ready to feel its reward as her bones cracked in its grasp, as Gabi's mind conjured one more into the procession awaiting her, a young lion faunus with golden hair.

Into eternity.

"See ya soon partner." Then she charged the Alpha, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"By the Gods," Nal gasped, stepping back for a better view, likely imagining the power needed to tear the satellite to pieces as Thompson swallowed dread down his drying throat.

"We really are off the map aren't we?" He asked, casting a sideways glance at his leader, only to see his CO frozen in place. No UNSC planet was known for any sort of satellite deformity, save for a few captured asteroids.

So why does it look so damn familiar?

"RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!" The entire party stopped, Spartans and ex-covenant alike pausing in confusion as the scream ripped through the air.

"Was that a girl?" Wade asked almost rhetorically only a second before a roar like thunder answered. Years and many adventures later, Thompson would still claim he'd never seen his CO move as fast as he did when the monsters roar tore through the woods.

"BOSS!" But Miguel was already moving, off and running toward the sound. Even after years he would never admit to being on the razor edge of a panic attack when he took off. Training, augmentation, and fifteen years of mental scars were suddenly not at war, but allied under three words echoing through the Spartans helmet like the tone of a gong.

Not this time.

He charged through the underbrush, trampling and breaking as tree trunks became blurs around him. This time he was looking ahead. He saw the cliff, and he heard the monster going for the kill. He jumped, enhanced muscles and bone structure vaulting him high, off and over the edge, before gravity brought him down on the beasts back.

He kicked out, armored boots and legs slamming into the creature's spine like a car, knocking it off and away from the young woman formerly pinned beneath its claws. Torres rolled with the impact, popping up on one knee, taking only a millisecond to aim before his SAW came to life in his hands. But just like before the beast ignored the bullets, roaring a charging through the lead storm, raging hatred flowing free from its burning eyes.

By some stroke of genius or stupidity, Torres kept firing until the drum was dry, by which the monster was already on top of him. Training took a back seat. The SAW fell to the dirt, armored hands flying up to meet outstretched claws as his legs slid back, ready just in time for the Monsters armored paws to slam into his own with the force of a loaded Warthog.

Gabi could feel the concussion coming. She had only managed a few slashing strikes before the Alpha backhanded her across the clearing, sending her headfirst into the ground. She could feel the world fading, blurring into nothing even as the Grimm lunged for the final finish. Then the clap of armor on bony armor, a scraping landing, and the crack of gunfire. As her vision faded in and out, she caught the sight of a giant figure in olive green and black armor grappling with the Grimm.

Torres felt his boots slide through the dirt and grass, but he also felt the beast struggling against his grasp. Its clawed feet were scraping, gouging the ground as its jaws snapped just beyond his visor. It looked exactly like the monster in his dream, wolf like head and legs with white rock and bone jutting through black fur and flesh like armor as its red maw and eyes tried to devour him. It was easily twice his size, and madder than hell at the Spartan standing between it and its kill. It kept lunging, straining its neck and head forward until its jaws sprayed wet across his visor.

Too Close. Miguel almost felt a passenger as training kicked in, old motions amplified through armor against a new enemy. His right arm twisted, grip reversing as his right shoulder heaved up, the other hauling down. He ducked his head, the beast's jaws clamping over air as it was twisted off its feet, and its left arm gave a sickening pop. It fell, dislocated shoulder down in the dirt and Miguel wasted no time. He pounced, pulling his knife from its gauntlet sheath and burying it in the creature's neck as it stumbled back to its feet. It thrashed and spun, trying to throw him off, instead forcing the Spartan to find another hand hold on the other side of its head, and plant his feet across its shoulder blades. But before he could twist its neck apart, the beast found its inner pet, and rolled over.

Earth rushed up faster than he could bail. Armor compressed into itself, taking the brunt and bracing against the crushing weight as Miguel clamped down. As soon as its chest was in the dirt, He acted, locking his legs across its shoulders and twisting its head, pulling and turning until.

CRACK!

The beast dropped, vicious coiled muscle suddenly limp and lifeless, falling on its front with its tongue falling out its jaws. Miguel rolled away, onto his back as his chest and helmet vents heaved oxygen into his lungs. Before he even had his breath back he was on his feet again, running toward the limp figure across the clearing even as the monster collapsed into black smoke.

"Boss! Miguel!" He barely heard Wade's voice finally arrive, he was too focused on the woman lying in a crumpled heap.

The last thing Gabi knew before blacking out was someone shouting, then the olive giant kneeling in front of her. He said something to her, asked her something, but all she could do was twitch her eyes, her vision finally falling into black as the giant removed his helmet, giving her the barest glimpse of mocha skin and green eyes.