Chapter 16

Jameson Locke sat down on the sidewalk and put his back to the cold, concrete building. Today was the day. Just a few minutes until the UNSC recruitment office opened.

A cold wind blew through the busy street. Locke pulled his cheap, tattered coat tighter around his chest. He looked forward to the undamaged marine gear he would soon be issued. He looked across the street at the line of people waiting for bread. The church wouldn't open for another hour. Even then, they wouldn't have enough food to give everyone on the line. They never did. A lot of the people toward the rear would be going home hungry.

So much for the prosperity of the Inner Colonies, Locke thought. He had lived on the Outer Colony of Jericho VII until he was 6. It felt like a lifetime ago. He could remember his family talking about how much better the Inner Colonies had it, how the Outer worlds were always getting the short end of the stick. Given some of the history books he'd encountered, that may have been true.

The War had changed that. Supplies were dwindling across human space as the Covenant burned planet after planet. Refugees like Locke were piling up everywhere. Locke thought of the crowded foster home he would be leaving behind. Over 20 war orphans were being taken care of by a couple of clowns that used all of the government child support money to line their own pockets, then fed the kids whatever moldy crap they bought for cheap off of the local bakery. No, he would not be missing his newest 'home'.

A large, unmarked truck rumbled past. Locke wondered if it was a bread truck. Vehicles transporting food had long ago learned not to advertise the precious cargo they were hauling. Locke himself had stolen from food trucks numerous times. One shop had even started just giving him and his fellow thieves a basket of free bread a week just to avoid the hassle of replacing broken locks.

"Can I help you, young man?" a voice asked.

Jameson Locke looked up, squinting to see the UNSC Marine Corps. recruiter past the glare of the sun. Locke put on his best smile. This was his only option. With unemployment pushing 50% he would likely starve if this didn't go as planned...

"I'm 18 today, sir," he lied. Locke was actually only 16. Given how badly the war had been going, he figured the UNSC wouldn't look too closely at a fit, able bodied young man who wanted to volunteer.

He was correct.

"Well then," the recruiter smiled, offering Locke a hand up. "Happy birthday."

Locke smiled and took the offered hand. He was going to be a soldier. A marine. Maybe one day he would even meet his hero again. The man that had saved his life so many years ago. The man that Locke wanted so badly to be like.

The Master Chief.

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Locke aimed his Battle Rifle at the Master Chief's head and fired a 3-round burst. The Chief ducked behind cover to allow his energy shield to regenerate.

The rest of Blue Team was likewise crouching behind cover. One of the other Spartans, the one covered in plates, was firing a Squad Automatic Weapon at them, keeping the Spartan IIs pinned. Every time one of them attempted to get out of cover either the SAW gunner or Locke would fire on them.

"Blue Three, get ready to sprint to a flanking position," the Chief said, gesturing to a small bridge that connected the command platform to another raised position half-way around the room. "Blue Two, you and I will provide covering fire. Blue One, keep looking for the cloaker. They've got a plasma pistol, so watch for the charged shot. Everyone wait for your shields to regenerate to 100%. Copy?" 3 acknowledgment lights winked on his HUD. Moments later, his squadmates reported readiness.

"Execute," the Master Chief ordered. He and Linda rose out of cover as one to fire on Osiris while Kelly sprinted to her new position and Fred scanned for the stealth unit.

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Kelly had almost made it across the bridge when she noticed a blip on her motion tracker. Glancing to her left as she stepped onto the platform, she saw the red-colored Spartan IV flying through the air on thrusters.

The Osiris team member shoulder checked her. Kelly's shields dropped instantly. She then flew sideways and slammed into the wall. Her shotgun was knocked into the maze below.

The Spartan II bit back a groan. Her tumble earlier had left her more sore than she was willing to admit. That blow had hurt.

That didn't stop her from recovering almost instantly, of course. Before her enemy could land another blow Kelly had rolled out of the way and onto her feet.

The Spartan IV moved to strike. Kelly thought she was prepared, but her adversary used a thruster burst to jet forward and land a strike that almost caused her to lose her balance. As Blue Three recovered, she noticed a small device in the red soldier's left hand.

Kelly's blood ran could as she recognized it. A neural inhibitor. If that thing was successfully attached to the back of her helmet, she would be temporarily paralyzed. Helpless. It had happened once before in a conflict with some Insurrectionists. This time, though, Kurt-051 would not be there to save them all.

Kelly buried her fear. She couldn't afford the distraction.

The Spartan IV attempted to grapple Kelly. She was clearly trying to maneuver into a position where the inhibitor could be attached.

Kelly had no intention of letting her. She was, by far, the fastest Spartan II. This applied not only to running speed but to reflexes. Thus, every blow her enemy attempted to land was easily dodged.

Minus the ones accompanied by a thruster burst. For several frustrating seconds, the thruster technology gave her enemy the edge needed to stay ahead of Kelly's blows and counters. Every time she came close, the Spartan IV would boost out of the way. This fighter had clearly practiced extensively with this relatively new technology.

It did, however, have a weakness. Every time the Osiris member used it, there was a brief delay before she could get her bearings. Before she was ready to strike or dodge.

This delay was only a fraction of a second. Many regular fighters wouldn't even be able to detect it.

For Kelly, it was like hitting the broad side of a starship with a shotgun blast.

The Osiris member used her thruster to attempt to grab Kelly's arm. Kelly dodged out of the way, careful to not move too far.

There.

Kelly grabbed the Spartan IV's arm just as it went past. The energy shield made it difficult to grasp. It was like trying to hold a limb covered in grease.

However, it was all Kelly needed to hold her enemy still for another fraction of a second. Kelly shoulder checked her enemy, repaying the opening blow of their battle, and the Spartan IV flew into the wall. Her shield dropped as surely as Kelly's had.

Kelly moved in for the finishing blow. She would attempt to use non-lethal force, but she could not afford to be captured. Her family was counting on her.

The Spartan IV had managed to stay on her feet. As Kelly moved in, the red-colored enemy fired all of her downward facing thrusters in an attempt to fly clear over her head.

Kelly activated Spartan Time. She grabbed her adversary by the ankle as she flew overhead and used the Spartan IV's momentum to swing her downward into the floor.

The hard-light surface cracked into a maze of grid lines upon impact.

The younger supersoldier was clearly stunned. Kelly could faintly see red warning lights flashing on the interior of her enemy's visor.

Before she could land the finishing strike, Kelly's opponent used her thrusters to blast off of the side of the platform. She disappeared into the maze below.

Glancing back from where her enemy had vanished, Kelly noticed she had dropped a grenade on the way out. Kelly turned and started to sprint, but it was too late. The blast dropped her shields again and blew her off of the platform. She rolled upon landing and drew her sidearm.

While Kelly could simply jump the 3 meters back up to the platform, she didn't want to remain exposed for the trip up. The other members of Fireteam Osiris would doubtless take the opportunity to shoot her. She sighed and moved toward a ramp, keeping an eye on her motion tracker.

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Where the hell are you? Fred asked silently. He had snaked a fiber-optic cable over the edge of the railing to see into the maze below. The image took up the top right corner of his visor. He was also keeping an eye on the rest of the platform. So far, there was no sign of the enemy stealth unit.

Linda was standing next to him, firing her last remaining sniper shots at the SAW gunner. The automatic weapons fire was impacting Linda's shield directly in front of her helmet. The enemy was probably counting on Linda ducking down, or at least being blinded by the flash as the rounds impacted the energy shield.

The advanced optics in Linda's helmet rendered the obstructing flashes meaningless. The sniper fired calmly and methodically as her shield fell toward single digit percentages. 1 shot. The enemy's shield flared. 2 shots. The enemy's shield flared brighter. The SAW rounds became less accurate. 3 shots. The enemy's shield dropped completely.

Just as Linda fired her final round, a barrier of hard-light appeared in front of the gunner. The sniper round bounced off.

Fred cursed mentally. This particular enemy had invested heavily in defensive measures. Linda ducked behind cover and drew her sidearm.

Another green blast came from behind them. It struck Linda, once again downing her shield and partially locking her armor.

Fred snapped his rifle up, aiming toward the back of the control platform. The cloaker must have snuck up somehow. He cursed himself for getting distracted. It took a moment for Fred to locate his prey with his thermal vision.

There!

Fred unloaded on the cloaked figure with his DMR. The figure attempted to dodge, but Fred was far too good a shot. Not one of his rounds missed. Fred could see flashes as his shots impacted an energy shield. The stealth unit's cloak failed abruptly. Fred was momentarily perplexed, as it seemed he was fighting a Spartan dressed up as an ODST.

The pseudo-ODST threw a grenade. Fred surged forward and kicked the grenade away. It exploded in the air half-way across the room.

Unfortunately, that distraction had bought his enemy enough time to charge another shot in his plasma pistol. He shot Fred. The marksman's shield failed and his armor locked up. The Osiris team member rushed past him to get to Linda.

The sniper had not yet fully recovered from the blast. Her recent surgery had left her less resilient than the rest of Blue Team.

It did not, however, render her helpless. As the enemy rushed towards her with some kind of device in his hand—a neural inhibitor, Fred realized with a bit of distress—Linda pushed forward and shoved him away with her rifle. The enemy's shield dropped. Linda moved forward, striking the soldier's wrist with the stock of her weapon. The inhibitor flew out of his left hand.

The Spartan IV instinctively grabbed a combat knife out of an ODST-style shoulder sheath and swung at her. The blow hit Linda's rifle. Nornfang. The sniper rifle that had carried her through decades of war. Her prized possession.

The enemy's blow sliced into the barrel and bent it into a curved shape. The weapon was now useless. Linda cried out as if her arm had been cut off.

The pseudo-ODST wrenched the rifle away and delivered a kick to Linda's chest. The sniper flew backwards, hit the railing, and tumbled over into the maze below.

Fred roared in anger. He drew his energy blade. His DMR was out of rounds. He wanted to do this personally, anyway.

The Fireteam Osiris member seemed to pause as he heard Fred's roar. Good. It gave the Spartan II time to close the distance.

To Fred's surprise, his enemy acquitted himself rather well. The Spartan IV dodged with an effortlessness that indicated years of practice and field usage. His strikes occurred in the blink of an eye. He deflected several of Fred's strikes, his arm impacting Fred's forearm and making the blow sail past him. The Spartan IV even tossed his blade from hand to hand a few times to attack from an unexpected direction. Advanced moves that took decades to master were used casually, almost effortlessly. Perhaps this man really had been an ODST before becoming a Spartan.

But Fred was better. He, too, had decades of practice and experience to draw on. His sparring partners were the greatest fighters humanity had ever produced. His instructors were among the most brilliant martial minds in all of the UEG. He also had superior augmentations.

Fred landed several blows on his enemy. There were numerous slash marks across the chest and limbs. It would only be a matter of time before Fred managed to bypass his enemy's guard and stab into one of the weakpoints in his armor.

Fred dodged low, ducking beneath one of his enemy's swipes. Moving toward the right, he grabbed on of the Spartan IVs legs and flipped him onto his back. Fred moved in for the kill.

Before he could land the blow, the SAW gunner popped up again. Apparently her shield had recharged. The automatic weapons fire rapidly drained Fred's shield, forcing him to duck into cover. The hard-light railing proved as impenetrable as ever.

Looking back, he saw that his enemy had disappeared. He must have engaged his cloak. Fred scanned the platform thoroughly. There was no sign of him.

There was also no sign of his teammates. Kelly had moved to flank and he had seen Linda go down. Where was the Master Chief?

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The Master Chief had moved to the far edge of the control platform. He could see Dr. Halsey crouching behind the solid railing a short distance away. He motioned for her to remain in cover.

Hopefully his new position would allow him to get the drop on the SAW gunner. He stood up and aimed his light-rifle at the enemy position. Linda's sniper shots had downed the gunner's shield, but a barrier of hard-light had popped up to block additional shots. Fortunately, the barrier only covered the front of the gunner. The Chief had a clear shot.

Suddenly, it occurred to the Master Chief that the leader of Osiris, Locke, had vanished. Before he could even wonder where he'd gone, the leader leaped up from directly below the command platform, grabbed the Chief, and dragged him down into the maze below.

The Chief rolled with the fall. He snapped back up and aimed his weapon at the enemy leader...only to discover that he had vanished. He checked his motion tracker. Nothing.

Perhaps Locke's armor was designed to counter the Spartan II's sensors. The Chief scanned the area around him. The ceiling lights cast long, deep shadows amongst the many obstructions. He kept his eyes and ears open. Only the sounds of battle above greeted him.

A sticky grenade flew out of the maze to the Chief's left and adhered to his light-rifle. The human answer to the Covenant plasma grenade could not be dislodged in time. The Chief tossed the weapon away.

The grenade detonated. The light-rifle also exploded, parts alternately burning up or blinking into nothing. The Chief's shields dropped.

A blip appeared on the Spartan IIs motion tracker. Behind him. The Chief pivoted out of the way as fast as his reflexes would allow him. Locke narrowly missed getting the Spartan II into a grapple.

Surprisingly, the Spartan IV moved in to grapple again. It was common knowledge amongst Spartans that the IVs were physically weaker than the IIs. Regardless of the reasons for Locke's foolishness, the Chief wasn't in the habit of passing up advantages. He moved to meet Locke in a contest of strength.

At first the Chief was winning as expected. Then Locke pushed forward with a strength he had no business having. His MJOLNIR armor must have been designed to increase strength even more than the standard issue models. Lock picked the Chief up and hurled him against the wall. The Chief could feel his shield break. The wind was knocked out of his lungs.

Before he could get up, Locke moved in and kicked the Chief's helmet. The visor cracked. The Chief's head whipped back, the armor barely keeping his neck from breaking. The Chief found himself on his back. Locke moved forward and stomped on the Chief's chest plate. Once. Twice. Three times. John-117 could feel the armor dent. Red warning lights flared on his damaged visor.

The Chief saw Locke draw a neural inhibitor from his belt and move to shove the Chief over with his boot. The Spartan II grabbed his foot. He grabbed his enemy's leg with his other hand and used his own strength to lever the Spartan IV into the wall. The Chief rolled to his feet. He struck Locke on the way up. The Spartan IVs shield dropped.

The Fireteam Osiris leader attempted to grapple with the Master Chief again. Having learned his lesson, the Chief dodged his grab and tripped him. Locke crashed to the ground. Not willing to give his opponent a moment to recover, the Chief delivered a strong kick to his midsection.

Locke's armor dented. He flew at least 3 meters before impacting one of the bizarre works of art that littered the floor. The artwork instantly developed a grid of cracks over one entire side of it. Locke picked himself up and shook his head, clearing it.

The Master Chief and Locke raised their hands into guard positions. They circled each other, looking for any opening. This was it. The Chief would show the ONI agent, this parody of a Spartan, exactly what it meant to be a defender of humanity.

Before he could make good on his silent promise, a familiar blue glow fell upon the room.

Oh, no, the Chief thought. Not now.

Suddenly, all of the works of art vanished. The Spartans below found themselves on a completely empty floor. Without obstructions, the ceiling lights were able to fully illuminate the area. The Chief could see Locke, as well as the red Spartan and Kelly and Linda.

Towards the front of the room, just below the command platform, the blue glow surged into a blinding flash. The Spartans' helmets instantly polarized to protect their vision. That had been far brighter than the flash the bizarre infantry had made upon their arrival.

The Master Chief remembered thinking that the figures he had fought on the surface were among the strangest he had ever seen. The lone figure that appeared before him trumped even their insanity.

It was easily 3 meters in height. It was humanoid, like the others, and followed the same chrome, black, and glowing orange color scheme.

It was there that the similarities ended.

The being was covered in what looked like a science fiction version of ancient plate armor. It had a cuirass to protect its chest, pauldrons on its shoulders, rectangular bands of chrome metal protecting the thighs like medieval faulds, boots, and gauntlets. It wore a helmet that looked for all the world like a 'Great Helm' of the medieval crusader period; it was cone shaped, with numerous holes approximately where the mouth would be and two narrow slits over the eyes. Both the holes and the slits glowed with an internal orange light.

"I am the Warden Eternal," it said in what sounded like an approximation of a cultured British accent. "I stand in service to the Lady Cortana."

The Master Chief was, once again, dumbfounded. This...thing, served Cortana?

"It is my sworn duty to preserve her from brigands, heathens, and barbarians like you all. You shall leave this place at once. Else you shall taste my steel!" Here the so-called Warden brandished what looked like an enormous longsword. It was at least 150 cm long, possessed a crossguard, and glowed bright orange along the blade's edge.

The members of Blue Team and Fireteam Osiris stared at him.

They then turned, glancing at each other. Receiving no indication that they were hallucinating, they returned their gaze to the Warden.

The members of Blue Team and Fireteam Osiris resumed staring at him.

No one said a word. Some of them looked like they would pinch themselves if they weren't wearing armor.

The Warden Eternal seemed to grow angry. "You will vacate this sanctuary!" he shouted. He then put both hands on the hilt of his weapon, aimed it toward the ground, and thrust the point downward. The sword pierced the hard-light floor.

It then emitted a shockwave that both downed all of the Spartans' shields and blew several of them off of their feet.

Suddenly, the 2 teams forgot their previous grievances. Every one of them currently holding a ranged weapon opened fire on the Warden Eternal. They barely left a mark. The Chief's pistol shots created some grid marks, but they were so faint he could barely make them out. The SAW gunner seemed to be having more luck, but only through sheer volume of fire.

The Warden drew his sword from the ground and aimed it at the SAW gunner. A bright yellow light traveled the surface of the blade and gathered into a ball at the tip. The gunner immediately summoned her hard-light barrier. The ball of light flew from the sword's point, impacted the barrier...and exploded.

There was a blindingly bright flash. The Chief could faintly see the gunner's barrier and shield failing. She was flung backward into the wall. The Chief would swear he could hear the armor cracking from across the room.

"Hey, asshole!"

The Master Chief looked to command platform. He saw Fred standing bolt upright...raising his energy blade in challenge. It was extended to its full length of 100cm.

Whatever Blue One was trying to do, he certainly had the Warden's full attention. The wannabe knight completely ignored the Spartans firing at him and walked toward Fred. The Spartan II jumped down from the platform and moved toward his enemy.

What is he trying to do?

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What the hell am I doing? Fred asked himself.

He walked slowly toward the Warden Eternal. The Warden walked slowly to him. They stopped approximately 3 meters from each other.

The Warden raised his sword into what Fred recognized as a high guard. If he had to guess from the sword's design and relative size, he assumed the Warden would be using a European fighting style. This meant strong, powerful blows with little in the way of subtlety or finesse. There would be no glancing hits. Any strike would be devastating. Strong as he was, Fred didn't want to chance a contest of strength with...whatever this thing was. He would need to rely on his speed and reflexes if he was going to survive. Blocking was out of the question.

Fred raised his blade into a low guard. The Warden snorted in contempt. Evidently, he was a purist. The two swordsmen launched themselves at each other. The weapons fire stopped as the two engaged in their duel.

Fred had guessed his opponent's style correctly. The Warden performed broad, powerful swings. The air seemed to sing in the wake of his blade. Fred knew that if any of these blows connected, he would be cut in two without the blade even slowing down.

Fred, by contrast, relied upon speed and finesse. He used Spartan Time to detect and dodge the Warden's blows. Occasionally he would have to deflect a strike. These actions resulted in his arm nearly being wrenched out of its socket. No, blocking was definitely out.

The duel seemed to last for hours. Sometimes the Warden would overextend himself on a swing, leaving him open to attack. Fred would dart forward, stabbing the point of his blade into a seam in his enemy's armor. He knew that striking the armor plates themselves would be futile. The black material beneath was tough, but his energy blade could cut through solid titanium. It pierced the black barrier with little difficulty. Unfortunately, Fred was unable to penetrate very far, as the Warden would immediately move out of the way, forcing the blade out. Fred knew he was doing damage; every time he landed a blow the Warden grunted in pain. However, unless he found a way to do debilitating damage, it probably wouldn't matter how many times he pierced this thing. It wasn't going to bleed to death, after all.

And Fred was getting winded.

The Warden fought with an aggression that seemed inappropriate given his cultured voice. He grunted and roared as he attempted to cleave his enemy in two. He swung wide, diagonal strikes that dug deep gouges in the hard-light floor. These marks took quite a while to regenerate. Fortunately, none of the blows managed to land. Unfortunately, the Warden's aggression resulted in Fred being backed into a wall. Without room to maneuver, he was as good as dead. The Warden moved to skewer Fred. The Spartan II nimbly dodged out of the way, moving to rush past his enemy and into open ground.

Fred's opponent suddenly checked his movement and swung to the side. The only thing that saved Fred's life was that the Warden either forgot or didn't have time to twist his blade so that the edge was leading.

The flat of the blade struck Fred center of mass. He went flying at least 10 meters through the air before crashing into the wall. He fell to the floor. His shields were dead. Fred could see red lights blinking on his visor. He could hear alarms blaring in his ears. He could taste blood. He watched, unable to move, as his foe advanced on his limp form.

Weapons fire bounced harmlessly off the Warden Eternal's armor as he raised his sword above his head. Fred braced himself for the killing stroke.

The Warden Eternal cried out in pain. He took one hand off of his sword and pressed it to the side of his head. He became unsteady on his feet, swaying to the right before steadying himself. He whirled around, looking directly at the control platform.

Fred could see Dr. Halsey furiously working on the control console. Once again, she had come through for them.

The Warden roared in outrage before charging toward the platform. Before he was half-way there he stumbled, falling to one knee. His body started to vibrate erratically. The pieces of his left arm flew apart, the armor seeming to levitate off of the black material beneath. The black material itself then split apart and shrunk, turning into tatters wrapped around a core of glowing orange crystal.

The rest of the Spartans focused fire on the crystal core. The crystal fractured. Abruptly, the Warden's arm exploded in a fiery blast. The entity screamed in agony. Within moments, the Wardens chest began to increase in vibration. The armor began to levitate off. Fred began to hope.

That hope was soon dashed. The Warden stood up and seemed to force his body back into his control through sheer force of will.

"Enough!" he shouted. The Warden then used his remaining arm to thrust his sword back into the ground. Unlike before, there was no shockwave. Instead, the Warden vanished in a flash of blue light...along with a substantial portion of the floor. There was nothing but a black abyss beneath the perfectly square hole.

The rest of the floor, as well as the walls and ceiling, began to disappear square by square.

"Fireteam Osiris! Regroup!" the enemy leader shouted. The Spartan IVs that were on the ground used thrusters to join the SAW gunner near the door. They picked up their comrade and carried her out of the rapidly disappearing room. The rest of Blue Team rushed over to Fred, running around the widening hole in the floor.

"Blue Two and Blue Three, carry Blue One to the entrance," the Master Chief ordered. "I'll get the Doct— "

All that was left of the room disappeared. The Spartans fell into darkness.

Whew, that was a doozy to write. Probably the most fun I've had so far, though.

Note: The story about a shop leaving bread out to get kids to stop stealing from them is based on a true story of my grandfather during the Great Depression in the 1930s. Just giving a shout out to a great man. Rest in Peace, grandad.

Note: Part of the reason for that intro bit, aside from pacing, was to show that Locke wasn't lying when he said life in a lot of the Inner Colonies sucked. It would have varied, and the Outer Colonies generally bore the worst of it, but something as devastating as the Human-Covenant War would have impacted everyone.

Note: I've heard that one of the more disappointing parts of Halo 5 is the fact that the Locke vs. Chief fight happens in a brief cutscene. I didn't find it disappointing because by that point I had realized the story sucked and 343i had lied to us. I was just numb, which I kept feeling for most of the rest of the game. Seriously, this might not be the worst game out there, but it hurt me more than any of the others. Anyway, I tried to fix that here. What do you think?

Note: I promised you lightsaber duels when I started this fic, didn't I? I'm not an expert in swordsmanship, but I tried to put what little I do know to use here. Feedback?

Note: Like with the Forerunner Soldiers, the Warden Eternal is wildly different from his game incarnation. Personally, I always found the Warden boring as hell. At one point he says, "If you knew what she (Cortana) has become, you would not speak of such juvenile concepts as 'home'," or something to that effect. Seriously, writers? Why don't you just have him rant about the idiocy of 'this thing you call love' while you're at it. You know, really complete the cliché. Anyway, I decided to just do my own thing with him. I'll have an explanation for his eccentricities later on, I swear.

Note: Apparently I was wrong about European fencing. From what I gather it's more about stabbing through the gaps in armor than chopping off limbs. I'll lampshade this somewhere ahead, but I figured I'd put a note here. I don't like perpetuating myths.

Thanks for reading. Love you guys.

Slipspace Anomaly