It was the peak of night, the moon directly above Six's head. He was laying in the tall grass, perched on a cliff nearby the Truth and Reconciliation. He was looking outwards at the hordes of Covenant ahead of him, and at the enourmous CSS BattleCruiser itself. There were dozens of dozens of Covenant ahead of him, hundreds at least. A ship that large DID command for a large crew. Six's only worry was how he was supposed to get to Captain Keyes and the rest of the Pillar of Autumn's crew without being seen. He would have to be perfectly silent.

And he had the perfect way to do it.

Before he left, he asked a few marines if they could spare an extra canteen. One soldier actually did have a second unused canteen, and handed it to Six. The Sniper Rifle that they had given him didn't have a silencer, so he used that extra canteen, and some good old-fashioned duct tape, to make a makeshift silencer for himself. He fired a shot into the ground before he left. It worked perfectly.

The marine who had given him the canteen called him a genius.

He looked through the scope of the Sniper. He never did feel comfortable with one of these things, no matter how much he trained with it. The first time he ever held one, it recoiled into his face and almost broke his nose.

He could see a lot of Covenant from afar, but up close, it looked like there was more than he thought. Groups of Elites carrying ammo crates, and grunts sleeping, like they always did. He was lucky that he was far away, in the night, and camouflaged, otherwise, the brigade of Jackals would most definitely have seen him.

This situation reminded him a lot of Jun.

Six moved up, crouched so he wouldn't be seen by Covenant patrols.

He had always hated Covenant, but up close, they were just plain nasty. Their grotesque features and wrinkled skin always had the effect of giving him goose bumps, no matter how warm it was. He unsheathed his brand-new, carbon fiber blade for the first time whilst hiding in the grass, playing with the handle of the knife, spinning the blade around until he grew bored, assessing his situation and trying to come up with a legitimate plan that wouldn't get him killed. He held the knife blade down, so he could plunge the knife into someone's neck.

Okay… stick to the shadows, and be fucking quiet this time. This can't go like when Jun got… killed.

A singular Elite was straying towards him. He sidestepped around it in total silence, snuck up behind it, and grabbed the back of its neck, forcing his blade up into the Sangheili's neck. It made a gurgling noise, spouted purple blood from its windpipe, then collapsed, dead.

This routine went on for another twenty or so minutes and had many close calls. Six hid the bodies in places covered in shadow, and in the tall grass so he could avoid detection. That was the last thing he needed.

Another ten minutes passed. So far, he had killed maybe a few dozen Covenant, including a few Grunts who decided to take a nap while on patrol. But there was one thing that Six didn't quite understand. He had been out here for a half an hour, and still no one had noticed his handiwork. He could have sworn there should have been a few who noticed their comrades gone. He pushed the thought out of his mind. He went back to work.

Nine kills and a lucky escape or two later, Six was getting close to the Battlecruiser. He was sure that the guards on the Truth and Reconciliation were better at their jobs than the ones out here.

Six felt a hand grab his thigh. He whipped around. A Sangheili had snatched the magnum he was carrying in his side holster. He aimed it the air and fired it, alerting the whole base. Six was amazed that anyone, human or not, had snuck up on him. He had no time to marvel, however, as this now posed a giant problem, that problem being about one hundred and sixty assorted Covenant heading in his tackled the Elite and snatched the magnum out of his hand, pressed the magnum to its temple, then pulled the trigger, spilling Sangheili blood and brains onto the grass. Six could hear Jackals and more Sangheili roaring, ready for battle. But behind him, he could hear something just as terrifying.

The only difference being that it didn't want to shoot him.

Marines started pouring over the hill, assault rifles firing next to assorted weapons and grenades. At the head of the crowd, leading the, was the Master Chief, or, as Six had grown accustomed to calling him, John. Six admired the other Spartan for his seriousness and his dry sense of humor. In that way, the two were a lot alike.

"Let 'em have it!" A marine yelled.

Through the gunfire, Six saw a Grunt running towards a shade turret. Not good. He pulled out his DMR and fired on the Grunt. The cover of night made it hard to see where he was shooting, but then he remembered that his helmet had a night vision feature. He turned it on and landed an immediate headshot on the Grunt. He ran with the speed of a cheetah to the turret and mounted it, firing upon the Covenant with their own weapons.

A majority of the Covenant around the Truth were simply corpses now, and the few who knew what would happen if they stuck around ran for their lives. Six dismounted the shade turret and ran to John.

"Hey." John said to him. "How many did you get with that thing?" John asked, pointing to Six's blood-drenched combat knife.

"Eh. A few dozen. I could have done better." Six replied.

"Jesus, that's a lot. I'm experienced in stealth ops, but I'm not that good." John said.

"That's because I'm better at this than you are." Six shot back with a sideways smile.

"Oh, hush." John said back with a grin.

Six chucked and looked at John. "Come on. We have to keep up with the others, pick it up." He said.

"Alright. Will do, sir." John said.

Six groaned. He hated it when people called him sir, and John knew it. It made him feel old.

It was John's turn to laugh. They picked up the pace a bit and set off towards the battlecruiser.

Clancy had gunned down a few Covenant in the firefight, and it made him feel a little bit better. Who knew shooting killer aliens was such great stress relief? He had thought about what Lieutenant Noble Six had said earlier that night, about his sister's death not being his fault. He realized how quick he was to blame himself for what had happened, but he felt like he was responsible for her. They were almost inseparable since she was born, and to lose her now and the way he did was a heartbreaking and terrifying thing.

Clancy spotted Six in the crowd of at-the-ready marines, talking to the Master Chief. He approached them. Six was laughing about something the Chief had said, so Clancy decided that this was a good enough time as any to initiate conversation.

"Hi, sirs. What're you laughing about?" Clancy said.

"Hmm? Oh, hey Clancy. John was just telling me a joke. Want to hear it?" Six said.

"Uh, sure." Clancy said.

John looked at Clancy. "What do you call a Sangheili on a unicycle?"

Clancy thought for a moment. "I'm not sure, sir."

Six was cracking up. "A Sangwheelie!" he said loudly, then proceeded to bust out laughing.

Clancy laughed, too. "You know, now that humor is pretty much void around here, I can understand why you'd laugh at that." He said.

"Well, stupid puns have made me crack up since I first heard 'em." Six said. "What can I say? I have a stupid sense of humor."

Just then, a fresh horde of Covenant dropped down from the battlecruiser's gravity lift, causing jubout every single soldier within a hundred feet to draw their guns.

"Covenant forces sighted!" Staff Sergeant Parker shouted. "Let's hit 'em, Charlie team!"

Everyone opened fire at once, both humans and Covenant

Clancy raised his gun and started to fire.

Six was firing madly, hitting every Covenant he laid eyes on, dropping them like stones. He emptied clips into oncoming Covenant, killing them by the score. One shot, two shots, four, six, ten, all headshots or vital hits.

And then came the grenade.

He had no idea where it had come from, but a plasma grenade was flying through the air, and it looked like it was heading straight for John and a few other marines.

He ran as fast as he could to John, four yards to the left of him, to warn him, but there was no time. He took a leap, and stopped the grenade from making contact with the soldiers. But there was only one problem.

It stuck to him, instead.

The now live plasma grenade was stuck on his hand, and about three seconds from exploding

"SON OF A BI—" Six shouted, but was cut off from the explosion and the nerve-wracking pain that was shooting up his arm.

"SIX!" John yelled as he tried to put together what had just happened. He ran over to him.

Six had just saved his life.

Six lay there on the grass screaming. He tried to take off his helmet, but he couldn't. He looked at his hand, and figured out why.

His entire arm, fingers to shoulder, wasn't there.

"AGHHH! SON OF A… BITCH! AGH!" Six screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Just hang on!" He yelled. "MEDIC?! IS THERE A MEDIC ANYWHERE?!"

"Six, I've lost vitals for your left arm! What the hell happened?!" Cortana said worriedly.

"Cortana, his arm is fucking gone!"

"Jesus…" Clancy said as he looked at where Six's arm used to be.

A medic ran up to Six and started cauterizing the wound with an engineer's blowtorch

Six passed out from the pain.

Sorry, I don't really have enought time to say much today, but keep reading, dudes and dudettes!

~Husky