Along with the report on the new extremist group, the three new inhabitants had also brought along a battalion's worth of weaponry. Since her basement was mostly empty, she allowed them to set up their small armory there while she prepared dinner for everyone. They offered to help, as cooking for five would be labor intensive, but she reminded them that outside of survival training, none of them knew how to cook. With that debate having been won, she went to work and thanked her lucky stars that they had gone shopping.

John watched Kelly as she worked around the kitchen. He had stayed behind to guard her while the other three were probably refurbishing the basement as a fallout shelter. He felt guilty about the fact that she was cooking for them and would more than likely insist on continuing to do so for the next few days. Deciding that cooking couldn't be all that hard to pick up, he went to stand beside her.

"Is there anything I could help you with?" - MC

"(Pfft), you're gonna be this stubborn forever, aren't you?" - K

"Yes, now, what can I do?" - MC

"You're lucky you're charming. Help me cut these things up and prepare this to boil." - K

She had decided that since she was feeding four super soldiers, it was best to prepare enough for 10. The main food would be a beef stew with a few vegetable based side dishes. She found the fact that the Chief wanted to learn how to cook endearing and instructed him as best she could. The only thing she really had to worry about was him folding her knives or cutting through the cutting board.

Technically, the food took slightly longer than it should have because John was involved but Kelly was happy to have him there. Red Team had finished faster than them and were waiting for them to finish. As John helped serve the food, Jerome prepared several files on the table and a holographic video. They would eat and continue the debrief at the same time.

"I'll start the report by saying that we aren't exactly sure why they seem to be targeting you. You were completely unknown until a little over a week ago so we can only guess as to why hatred against you has unified so many." - Jer

"That's not very comforting. They probably think I'm a honey pot or something." - K

"We assumed as much at first but it seems that you're just the scapegoat for the actions we've taken recently." - Jer

"Wait, what changes?" - John

"In order to further sway public opinion in our favor, it was decided that certain laws would be repealed. Yesterday afternoon, 'Title 27 of the State's Secret Act' was struck down while the world was distracted by you." - Jer

"Wait. You guys repealed the 'no fun allowed' act? No wonder the extremists are angry! They think I made you guys sellout. This is going to follow me for the rest of my life." - Kelly

"How is allowing the use of images of military assets considered selling out?" - Jer

"Because now they can sell ODST and spartan merchandise. Before, you couldn't even own a poster with the words 'Master Chief' on it because of the whole 'loose lips sink ships' ridiculousness. You know who broke that law? Everyone. There wasn't one person in my squad that didn't have at least one thing that was considered 'contraband'." - Kelly

"Wait. What kind of contraband are you talking about?" - John

"Chief, I told you that the people love you. They are crazy about you. You may not actually remember this, but we've met before. I was at New Mombasa when the Covenant showed up. I was at the bridge when you jumped the Scarab. We traded guns. Do you have any idea how much money I was able to sell that gun you traded with me for? I was able to trade an SMG for this house, even after I had to pay the quartermaster for 'misplacing' my weapon. I was also able to get this awesome poster." - Kelly

Kelly then stood up and ran to her room. The four spartans were left somewhat dumbfounded. Red team stared at the Chief with slightly teasing eyes. It was funny to them how big their poster boy had gotten. Much had changed in the 20 years they had been in cryo-sleep. Kelly returned with a large cylindrical container. She opened it and, with a huge smile, she revealed a big poster of Master Chief wielding dual SMGs while posing in New Mombasa.

"Check it out. This is my most prized possession! I had to hide it for a month so that it wouldn't get confiscated. The picture was caught by the city security system. The guy who printed these made a fortune." - Kelly

"Kelly, the punishment for possessing contraband about anything dealing with the 'SPARTAN II' program ranges from years in prison to execution for espionage. Why, then, do you have a poster about the most prominent figure among us?" - Jer

"Ha. I told you that you don't know how much people love John. I don't know a single person that wouldn't risk all that just so they could have something that he touched or used. With that law repealed, you'll start seeing a bunch of people popping out claiming to own guns or seats or even cups that he has used. There are going to be a dozen toy lines with Master Chief's name written all over it by the end of this week, I guarantee. . ." - K

Her rant was interrupted by a chaotic storm. Her consciousness could barely keep up. They had been struck by a plane and it had taken out more than half of the house. Her home was reduced to splinters. Her limbs were either twisted into bloody messes or missing. She was dying. Master Chief, God having made him denser than a brick house, seemed alive and trying to reach her. Then, an explosion consumed her everything.

John held Kelly as she continued to hyperventilate. She was so desperately clinging onto him that he could feel her nails break as they dug into his skin. It was only after she had thrown up all over his back that she began to calm down. He had only offered her a hug to try and comfort her, as friends would. He had not expected it to actually result in what was, most likely, a terrible and painful vision. Between her gasps for air, John was able to make out the words: Leave house. . . Red Team. . . die.

The moment she said the magic word, he had her over his shoulder and through the front door. To his surprise, Red Team had only just arrived at their driveway. Not good, he thought. All they needed was the third part of the act following their arrival. They had to escape. Before they could ask anything, John jumped into their warthog with Kelly in tow and gave them one order.

"Go."

Douglass hit the gas while Jerome and Alice quickly armed themselves. Master Chief tried to cradle Kelly as much as possible to spare her from the spartan's wild driving. She was burning up and still delirious. He didn't understand why she wasn't coming-to, as she was fine after touching the cop, but psychic powers were as big of a wildcard as they could come. He wasn't ready to rule anything out.

Once they reached the open road, Master Chief finally gave the lost Red Team a destination, the safehouse. As a contingency plan against ONI, Cortana and the spartans decided to build safehouses near any destination they would go to. They had only just built the first one, obviously near Kelly's house, and would already put it to good use.

It was only an hour later that they got to know just what it was that knocked out Kelly. They got reports that her house had been targeted by a commercial plane that was hijacked by some unknown group. The house was reduced to rubble before being further blown to ash by the explosives they carried aboard. They got report after report but no matter who they asked, they all said that the plane had come from out of nowhere. Cortana had been the only one not in a grim mood, having been fully repaired by Dr. Halsey, and even joked about how hard it was to kill a psychic.

Cpt. Cutters wasn't going to take any chances with Kelly still unconscious, so he sent Anders herself to a secure hospital to look after her. The most watched house on Earth had just been demolished under everyone's noses. It was no longer a question of whether or not the UNSC had moles among them but just how many could they possibly have that they could make the trail from a commercial flight disappear. There was no flight plan, no refueling, no passengers registered, no captains aboard. It was a ghost plane. It was a trail so clean that its emptiness was deafening. It was almost as though whoever was behind it was flaunting their power.

Still, it was not as though they were not used to fighting impossible odds. People that have walked through Hell are less inclined to be afraid of the dark, afterall.