FIVE; THAT GANGSTA LIFE

Vance led the way through the alley, with Halsey just behind him, and the Master Chief bringing up the rear. He was sorely tempted to load his pistol and level it, but controlled the urge, just in case he ran into a Storm or a Plasma. That wasn't a common occurrence in Razor territory but it did happen, and if he had his weapons free, they would attack. Storms and Plasmas had no fear.

All of a sudden, one of the gang-affiliated young men in the alley pushed off the wall he was leaning on and bolted for the end Vance and his allies were headed towards. At no apparent signal another one followed. Both were Razorwires – they had the distinctive gang tattoos on their cheekbones. That in and of itself was unusual. Razors did not move fast on their own territory unless something big was going down.

Six loud single shots rang out, with a brief pause between each of them. Vance identified the weapon as a 12 gauge pump action shotgun and the shells as buckshot in less time than it took him to hit the deck. The Chief followed just an instant behind and last, though not by much, was Halsey, who was down before the second shot.

"Wow," Vance commented. "In broad daylight. Probably a Lead to Blood hit, based on the weapon, but the gangs love to use the 'wrong' weapon now and then, to try to pin the blame on someone else. My father once executed a hit with a stolen combat knife, because the Razors wanted to bring the law down on a streeter who was trying to muscle in on their contracts. Razorwire normally uses machine pistols."

"Streeter is slang for a non-gang assassin," Halsey explained to a very confused Master Chief. "We should keep moving."

"I would rather stay in cover until the situation passes," the Chief grumbled. "A stray shot is just as lethal as one that hits its target."

Haydn shook his head. "Lying low is the last thing we want to do right now. If that was the Leads, we have nothing to worry about. They've been Razorwire's allies for decades. I'm a Vance, so they won't harm me or anybody I'm with. If it wasn't the Leads, then whoever it is will be looking for people who are trying to hide. As will the group whose members just bit the dust. If we aren't gone by the time this really erupts, then we can reassess. Easy enough to hide down the shaft. Like I mentioned earlier, the gangs won't go near it."

As he spoke, he got to his feet, motioning to Halsey and the Chief to do the same. He paused to check that they were following, and then continued on like nothing had happened. That was not an easy pretense to keep up, given that he was intensely curious as to what had just happened, and all his training for the past few years told him to be nervous if someone was shooting and he didn't know where or who they were.

Regardless of who had done it, it was brazen.

"Why," the Chief eventually asked, "does your family name have anything to do with anything?"

"My father's one of the highest-ranked members of Razorwire, remember? The Vance family has been infamous for a very long time… even before we split off, with the Slover family and the Emerson family, to form Razorwire. There are still Vances high up in the Lead to Blood hierarchy. We look after our own." Vance expected that would not go down well. The Chief seemed very suspicious of anyone in a gang. That wasn't really fair… they weren't all bad. Owen had joined Razorwire because that was what was expected – he was his father's eldest son – but didn't really believe in the more criminal aspects of the organization. Haydn had an older brother, and so he had been given a choice.

"How did you pass screening?"

"I'm clean. I've never broken the law… not once in my life. I fell in with the 'wrong' crowd, in my father's eyes, and was never really subjected to that criminal influence. Da never paid me much attention. He was too busy with Devan. My brother. And Ma loved Da, but not the gang, and certainly not the crime." It wasn't strictly true that Vance had never broken the law. He hadn't been caught breaking the law. But his one crime was minor and wouldn't have gone on his record anyway, not considering how many high-ranking cops Razorwire counted among its number. Possession of illegally modified firearms. Dev had forced it on him.

"You're lying," the Chief growled.

"My brother threatened a world of pain if I didn't hang onto his gun for him. Haven has very little gun control… the only thing that's illegal here is anything that can fire anything explosive. Dev's pistol was modified to take Hi-Ex rounds. That law isn't enforced very strictly, and I didn't even know it was a law until after the fact. I wasn't caught, and even had I been, it wouldn't have gone on my record."

Halsey let out a soft chuckle. Vance glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry, I just find that amusing. You were strong enough to make it through your training and augmentation, and yet your brother clearly terrifies you," she said, smiling.

"You don't know Devan," Vance replied. "Augmentation is nothing on what he does to people who piss him off. If he ever gets leadership of Razorwire, mark my words, within five years there'll be three major gangs. He already has a lot of power."

Vance was painfully aware of the Chief staring at him. Augmentation was the most pain any Spartan could possibly imagine, short of being tortured by the Covenant, and it was impossible to fathom anything done by one human being possibly inflicting more pain on a person. Devan was capable of that and more.

More gang members bolted past. Vance quickly identified each of them from their gang tattoos. A couple of Plasmas ran past without casting a second glance at him, which he thought surprising. PlasmaScar's hatred of Razorwire was almost as intense as their hatred of Lead to Blood, and anything that could harm Razorwire was more important than some random hit.

"Should we follow the gangs' lead?" Halsey asked, eyeing the gangsters nervously.

"No, that would imply we are with a gang, and if they got that impression… things would end badly." Vance was surprised that Halsey was turning to him for guidance. She was nearly as familiar with the gangs as he was. Gangland etiquette was simple. Don't annoy the wrong people and keep your nose out of gang business, and you're fine. Anyone with a lick of common sense could stay out of trouble.

But Halsey was a civilian, and the situation was escalating. Vance might have been younger than the Chief, but he was more familiar with the rules of dealing with gangs, and almost as battle-hardened.

John was frustrated. With anybody else present, things would have gone smoothly enough. Vance had a reputation for bad luck and while John didn't believe in luck, he couldn't deny that things just wouldn't go according to plan. No matter what. There was something about that kid that seemed to attract trouble of all kinds.

It was even more frustrating when Vance and Halsey took his silence as assent. It wasn't. It was quite the opposite – an expression of his disapproval and discomfort. Much of the discomfort came from the fact that he was torn. On one hand, he wanted to get back into the thick of things, and he had a feeling that a fight waited just around that corner. On the other, he was supposed to be protecting Halsey, a mission he took more seriously for the fact that she was the closest thing he had to a mother. Aside from Kelly and Linda, and Fred wherever he was, Halsey was also the only friend he had left. Certainly the only friend he could see on a regular basis without having to come up with some complicated and convoluted excuse that would inevitably be caught out as a lie.

It was difficult, almost impossible, for John to follow and be passive. Vance was inexperienced. Granted, the kid had more experience when it came to the gangs, but not when it came to combat, and the rules of the battlefield were much the same no matter the enemy.

His gut wanted to trust the younger Spartan, but his head kept telling him to ignore that feeling. Frustratingly, he couldn't come up with one good reason to ignore his head, other than what Mendez had taught him all those years ago. He didn't know what to do. It was an unfamiliar and incredibly unpleasant feeling.

"Let's at least find out what's going on," he heard himself say, his voice a little gruffer than usual.

"Good plan," Vance agreed. "I'd like to know if we need to keep looking over our shoulders, or if we can relax a little."

John consulted his gut feeling, but he wasn't sure what it was telling him. He still felt like something was going to go horribly wrong, and that seemed to overshadow every decision he tried to make. He was painfully aware of the fact that he didn't know enough about Haven and its gangs to be able to make a decision based on his logic. A sharp pang of an odd kind of anger gave him brief pause… then he realized what it was. Jealousy. He was jealous of Vance.

That was beneath him. He squashed the feeling, observing in his clinical way that he wouldn't want to swap places with the younger Spartan anyway. Fours were more emotional, not as professional as John and his brothers and sisters, and their far greater numbers were very much required for the simple fact that they died more often.

All stupid, petty reasons not to want to trade places, but he couldn't acknowledge the real reason. He couldn't even think it to himself.

John followed Vance and Halsey around the corner, and had to throw himself off balance to avoid walking into Halsey's back. He glanced from his allies to the mob gathered nearby to the ground at the mob's feet – there was a body there – and back to his allies again. They had both seen dead bodies plenty of times before, bodies that had once been people who had died in far worse ways than this. He was silent for a moment, before he realized that perhaps it was who that body once belonged to that was significant.

"Who was hit?" he asked, trying out terminology he had never actually used before. Of course he was familiar with it – nobody was that naïve – but he hadn't had cause to use it.

"That's Papa Elton," Vance said, voice hollow in a way that made John think of when Cortana had admitted to him that she was going rampant. It took him a moment to recognize that the younger Spartan was expressing a feeling of dread. He cast a confused look at Halsey, who he knew could read him despite the fact that his face was hidden.

"Chris 'Papa' Elton is the head of The Family, one of the four mid-strength gangs. The Family operates mostly covertly. People know they're about, but most people don't know who they actually are."

"This is bad," Vance stated, as if it was obvious. John figured it probably was, to someone who had a clue about the gangs and who was allied with whom.

Again, Halsey came to his rescue. "The Family is allied with PlasmaScar. Word will get to the Plasmas that Lead to Blood carried out a hit on the leader of one of their allies. I give it… maybe two days. Then war will erupt."

War. That word again. John had yet to see anything here on Haven that made him think of the desperate struggle to survive that he knew war to be. Armor, tanks, snipers, artillery… grenades left right and center. Air strikes, infantry raids, alternately being responsible for and trying to survive any and all of them. Unless he was greatly underestimating the gangs, this would not be a war so much as an eruption of civil unrest. Most people didn't make that distinction, but John did. Civil unrest could be quickly defused with clever politics, good propaganda, and a small show of force. War had to be fought down to the last man.

"I hope not," Vance said slowly, "but hope is all too shaky a foundation these days…"

John let out a soft, frustrated hiss. He was trying to keep up but found himself getting left farther and farther behind. He decided to just watch, listen, and learn. He suspected it would take him more years than he had to ever really understand.

Vance turned away from the scene and kept moving. The garage wasn't far, and the head mechanic would put them up until their vehicle was ready. Only one more gang turf border to cross, from Razors land to Full Throttle territory. Full Throttle was another gang he knew they could count on to help out. The Throttles were firm allies of the Razors and the Leads, and the best mechanics this side of Abyssal Chute.

"Addison Horton will gladly provide us with accommodation," he said after a brief silence. "She owns the garage and the vehicle we're borrowing. She's not a Razor or a Lead, which is actually a good thing… because she's a member of Full Throttle, who are nearly as good at staying hidden as The Family. Just let me do the talking and the rest will fall into place."

"Hm," the Chief growled. There were so many layers of meaning in that syllable that Vance felt, for a moment, like he was talking to his father. He didn't even try to look deeper than the fourth layer. It was plain enough how the older Spartan felt about trusting gangsters.

"Anyone who's anyone on Haven is either a member of a gang, or lives under the protection of one," Vance said pointedly, matching his words with a sharp glance. "Anyone with enough power to help us is a member of a gang. Anyone with the power and the inclination is a Lead, a Razor, or a Throttle. We're just going to have to deal with it."

It was patently obvious that the Chief did not approve, but Vance couldn't exactly do anything about it. Needs must. There was no choice in the matter. Not unless they wanted to wait around for weeks while the UNSC dithered over whether or not to send them something smaller with which to traverse the tunnels. Sometimes it was necessary to circumvent procedure.

And sometimes it was impossible to know what the right thing to do really was. Vance kept his eyes low, looking for the line in the sidewalk that was slightly curved. It was the only marker that indicated the border between Razorwire and Full Throttle land, and nobody paid much attention to it. Razor's enemies were the same as Throttle's. There was a lot of trust between the two gangs. If the 'enemy' dared set foot on either one's turf, they would defend one another, and rely on one another to protect the border.

"Addie will help," he said to himself, picturing the mechanic's impudent grin, an expression that was somewhat out of place on her heavily-tattooed face. Addie would help for more reasons than just that Vance was who he was. Vance knew she had feelings for him. Strong feelings that had gotten both of them in trouble a few times, years ago, before he had left Haven.

He stepped across the curved crack in the pavement that marked the border. "We're on Throttle land now. The third building on the other side of the road is the one we're looking for."

"That? That doesn't look like a garage," Halsey said.

"As I said… Addie's a Throttle. And Full Throttle are nearly as good at hiding as The Family." Vance paused, listening for any vehicle noise, then crossed the street. Halsey and the Chief followed. As he lifted his hand to rap on the door, it swung open.

"…Hayd? Is it really you?" Addison's tattooed face broke into a tentative smile.

"I thought you said she was expecting us," the Chief said before Vance could respond.

"She was expecting you," Vance explained quickly. "Yes, Addie, it's me. Doctor Halsey, Master Chief, meet Addison Horton. The only person on the entire planet, other than Owen and Martha, who didn't think I was either high or crazy when I told them I wanted to enlist."

"I keep it quiet," Addison said, "but I support the UNSC. Mostly the people here either hate all authority, or support the rebellion. Not me. I'd have signed up, except I already had a bunch of gang tattoos. They would never have considered my application."

"Vance has tattoos," the Chief pointed out.

"They're not gang tattoos," Addison and Haydn said in unison. Addie elaborated. "I have Throttle tattoos on my face, arms and shoulders. I got inked to identify with the gang. Hayd's tattoos are anti-gang in their symbolism. He got inked to set himself apart from his family."

"Could we come in?" Halsey asked, shooting a pointed look at the Chief.

"Of course, of course. Come on in. But I'll kick him out if he keeps up with the inquisition." Addison jerked her head in the big Spartan's direction, then continued talking as she led the way through the hall and into a surprisingly large living room. "Yeah, I'm a ganger. You don't have to like it. But if you want to stay in my house, then you're going to have to deal. I'll have that tunnel crawler ready in a couple of days, unless fucking PlasmaScar block my parts shipments again. If that happens, I can still get the parts, but it'll take a bit longer. Um. Don't sit down. Doctor, you can, but do you boys have anything else to wear? That armor will break my furniture."

Vance chuckled and pulled his uniform out of a compartment in his armor. "I travel light, but you can't say I don't come prepared."

The Chief shifted his weight, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I have fatigues, training uniform, and dress uniform…"

"But he'd rather stay in armor," Vance finished. "Don't worry, Chief, we're safe here. This house and the garage below it are the safest places on all of Haven… for members of the UNSC, or Lead to Blood, Full Throttle or Razorwire. If we weren't safe, I wouldn't be walking around with no helmet on, much less have packed for the possibility of removing my armor."

Half an hour later, John sat stiffly on the couch, occasionally touching the pistol at his hip. It struck him that the contrast between him and the young Spartan sprawled on the floor playing a board game with the civilian Addison Horton was almost comical. He just couldn't relax, whereas Vance seemed right at home.

John remembered a time when he and Kelly had sprawled across the floor like that, also playing board games. Making up rules, changing them, removing them completely. A happier time, a more relaxed time. A time when laughter was natural, not forced and foreign as it was now. Even the touchy-feely, comparatively casual Kelly seemed to have lost her ability to laugh. And that was wrong. John suspected that he was the source of that tension, which was wrong, but he didn't know how to fix that problem.

He had barely touched the plate of food on his lap, despite the delicious aroma wafting from it. It smelled amazing, but John wasn't hungry. He was too nervous to eat.

Halsey 'accidentally' bumped his arm with her elbow as she went to get up. The Doctor was a normal human, but she was well and truly familiar with the silent language Spartans used, and while she couldn't always see the signals John and his team used, she could certainly use them. John suspected most of what she 'said' was unconscious and involuntary, but even so, she 'spoke' his language.

He felt his shoulders relax a little, and then laughed at himself when he almost jumped out of his skin at a knock on the door. As he listened to himself laugh, he was struck by the thought that it wasn't his laugh. It was Cortana's laugh.

"She left part of herself in your neural lace, John. She's not gone. If you can awaken that part of her, I might be able to reconstruct her from what she left with you for safekeeping." The memory of Halsey's words echoed through his mind, and John suddenly felt with a certainty that took his breath away that the Doctor was right.

An unfamiliar voice ripped him from his thoughts and he was instantly on edge again, right hand on his pistol, ready to draw the weapon at a moment's notice.

"…but I can't guarantee I can get the right actuators for the legs. Certainly not in the time frame we agreed on. Sorry."

"This is why I won't pay you for parts in advance, Hendrix," Addison's voice said from the hall, getting closer. "You back out on me too often. You're just lucky you can get me parts cheaper than Buzz can. He, at least, is reliable."

"I got you everything else you need," Hendrix protested. "It's just those damn actuators. You have any idea how damn hard they are to find? And you want eight!"

There was a dull thump from the hall. John was on his feet before he could blink, but Addison sauntered back into the lounge a moment later, unharmed apart from bloody knuckles on her left hand.

"What was that?" John demanded.

"Easy on there, Spartan, I just put a supplier back in his box. They get too mouthy now and then." The civilian woman eyed him speculatively. "Wouldn't mind going a few rounds with you. You look like a challenging opponent."

John stared at her. "I'd kill you. Even holding back, trying to let you win."

"If this is because I'm a chick, I'll have you know I've put Vance flat on his back seven times. And he was the MMA champion here, before he left."

"I wouldn't spar with you if you were male, six foot seven and three hundred pounds, and the MMA champion of the UNSC. For the same reason."

"Pah, you're no fun," Addison complained. "Hayd, how 'bout you? Or are you too chicken?"

"Three rounds with you? You're on," Vance said, on his feet in a flash. John thought it was a bad idea, but kept his mouth shut. Experience was the best teacher. He watched the two Haven natives leave the lounge for another room – presumably it was a gym of some sort – and then sighed and shook his head, catching Halsey's eye.

"He'll learn, John. He's still young. And his fireteam hasn't been used for a lot. Grimm gets sent on difficult, dangerous ops, but they're given months between missions. He's inexperienced and hasn't tested his capabilities yet. Not against a yardstick he understands. Remember when you killed those ODSTs?"

"Of course. They were a threat. I neutralized that threat. It wasn't until later that I learned how to neutralize a threat without eliminating it completely."

"But that encounter gave you a better idea of what you were, and are, capable of."

"I won't deny it."

"If I thought he would hurt her, I wouldn't allow this." Halsey frowned at him until he met her gaze.

John sighed. "Might as well watch, then. Not much else to do." Other than see if I can find Cortana…

"That's the spirit."

AN: Bit slow in posting this one, but meh. My muse for Vance hasn't been overly high. Nor has my muse for anyone else been especially high. Just one of those things.

Might have found a way to bring Cortana back that doesn't feel too awkward, so make sure you read through this chappy, not just skim it, and tell me what you think. Too weird? Or is it ok?

As always please review :)

Halo and all canon characters belong to 343 Industries/Bungie/Microsoft. Story, OCs and Shield World Haven are mine.