There was a taste of copper in his mouth.
The dry, sticky sensation of cottonmouth in the back of his throat, only soothed by the trickle of blood that hit his tongue.
His entire body ached. Every vein felt like it flowed with lead.
Spartan Marcus-289.
He stood in the center of the training pit, a hole dug into the ground and a layer of sand at the bottom. A small white ring sat at its center, only 3 feet in diameter. The whole pit was about as big as a sparring ring.
But Marcus's frame commanded the ring.
His chest heaved, a sheen of sweat covered his body. He was covered in cuts, lumps, and forming bruises. His opponents, three other Spartans, looked almost as bad he did.
Two females, and one male.
The pit was filled with heavy air, hot and thick with the four warriors exertion.
A four way battle royale, with Marcus currently residing in the center.
The other male was not as bulky as Marcus, but was by no means a lightweight. His hair was jet black and fashioned into a single column down the middle of his head. He stood stretched out, hands clasped over his head as he was catching his breath. His eyes were piercing, not angry so much as they were analytical.
The two females were built only slightly smaller than the male.
The one to Marcus's left had hair tied up in a tight, plain braid. Her olive skin shone with sweat and small patches on her arms were caked with semi-wet sand. But of all four in the pit, she was breathing the easiest. Her eyes showed a calm serenity, like pools of undisturbed water.
The female to his right had her hair tailored incredibly short, in an almost boyish cut. She rested her hands on her knees and was hunched over, but in her eyes shown a fire that said she was not giving in. She was also caked with sand all over her body, from the numerous failed attacks that she had launched on whoever was at the center of the pit.
Some sweat pooled on Marcus's forehead and rolled into the corner of his eyes, a downside of the military cut he had not holding it in.
He raised his hand to wipe the sweat away.
Thats when they attacked, all at once.
The male approached, arms covering his face. The long hair female strafed around behind him, into his blind spot. The short haired one took a single step and leapt at him.
She approached the fastest. Sailing through the air, arms outstretched.
Marcus clenched his stinging eye closed, and reacted as quickly as possible.
The male was closest, His fist was flying towards Marcus's face. Leaning back he dodged the strike and grabbed the arm, and dragged him through. The combined force caused the male to stumble forward, directly into the leaping females path. The two collided and went tumbling out of the center ring.
Marcus turned to face the long haired female. He was immediately met with a kick to the right side of his face.
She had caught him completely off guard and he began to stumble.
He compensated and let the momentum take him, turning himself back towards the female.
Another kick was sailing towards him, this one he blocked with his forearm. The leg retracted and attacked again, lightning fast, connecting with his chest. He stumbled a step, but immediately went on the offensive. A dotting of quick jabs followed by a left hook. Back stepping, she dodged the jabs. Catching the left hook.
Marcus delivered a lightning fast uppercut, aimed at her midsection. It connected, causing her to hunch over slightly, losing her breath.
He took a single step back to kick her out of the circle, when he was suddenly hit with an immense force on his side. His feet went out from under him, and the feeling of weightlessness filled his senses.
Quickly followed by him crashing outside of the center circle.
The other female had successfully tackled him, landing on top of him so that her head was slightly below his arm.
Barely a second of recovery before the female began to climb his torso, aiming for a full mount and easy access to his face. Marcus tried to punch at her, but her face was tucked and the angle made it difficult to put all his strength into the punch. He only had time to throw one semi-successful elbow before her legs were on either side of his torso.
All he saw before the fists started raining down, was a crazed smile.
She got one.
Two.
Three, good strikes directly to his face before he could bring up his guard. But then they just switched to the sides of his head, scrambling his thoughts.
Each strike made a buzzing in his ears and a painful, swimming feeling in his head.
It took four hits for him to feel her rhythm, then another two to counter.
He grabbed the next strike, reached under her leg with the other hand and flipped her over.
Marcus made a move for control, but instead found his arm about to be captured and him about to be put into submission.
He reached around as best he could and clasped his own hand, straining to keep his arm bent, the right way.
The short haired female arched her back and bucked her hips, trying to break his grip. Her entire body was working against only his arms, he only had seconds.
With a titanic effort, he shifted his legs underneath him and tried to stand.
Arms quivering, gritting his teeth, he got his feet under him and stood with her hanging on his arm. With every ounce of strength, he raised her up a bit and slammed her on the ground, hard. Her grip loosened for a second, giving Marcus an ounce of relief, before immediately resuming her attempts with renewed vigor.
Marcus raised himself again and slammed her down, once again earning himself a moment of slack.
It wasn't working.
Movement to his left caught his eye, the other male and female were fighting. The female was once again on the offensive, a barrage of kicks and strikes but none capable of passing the male's blocks.
Marcus had an idea.
He took off with a loping gait, barely stumbling. He rotated his body away from the run preparing to use female attached to his arm as a club.
Getting close enough he swung her at the other female and they connected. The long haired female was caught completely off guard and went flying, and the short haired one was shocked enough to let her grip go and went flying with the long haired one.
Without missing a beat the two males regained their compute and squared up with one another.
But then they stopped and looked down.
The white, chalk ring that marked the center was scattered. No center ring could be discerned.
There was no reason to fight anymore, so the two straightened and gave a nod to one another..
The session was over.
Marcus walked over the the short haired female, the other male walking to the long haired one.
She was sitting up, one hand rubbing her head and the other reached behind her back.
"God you are such an asshole, using me like a wrecking ball." She growled, her eyes scathing.
Marcus, stifling a smirk, replied, "Well, you were about to break my arm, so i had to think of something to do with you." He reached out a hand to help her up
"Oh no, what you did makes sense. It does not, however, make you any less of an asshole." Taking his hand as rudely as she spoke, she let him do most of the work helping her up.
Spartan Valerie-179. She fights like she lives. But being a Spartan, it may be more accurate that she lives like she fights. She was like an exposed wire that ran hotter than a sun. Some people would say that is a dangerous trait in a Spartan, but she was dedicated and loyal. Even if she wasn't always too gentle.
This was one of those instances.
Marcus began to walk away, but he made only one step before he was suddenly weightless. His feet having been swept out from under him.
He collided heavily with the ground. Wincing, he looked up.
Valerie's mischievous grin beamed back at him, before she left his field of view. Fatigue kept him there as he thought.
She was never one to let anyone have the last laugh.
He tried to rouse himself, his body complaining the entire way, and forcing him to pause at a seated position. He placed his hands on either side of him and was about to haul himself up when the male he was about fight put his open palm in Marcus's face. Gladly clasping hands, Marcus allowed his friend to help him to his feet.
Spartan Tom-225. He was Marcus's rock. Calm under pressure, strategic, and ,as far as Spartans go, friendly. He was a ferocious fighter, and was an incredible leader. He knew everyones' strengths and weaknesses, and was critical in turning this group of Spartans into a team. Marcus had never had a family, or relatives, but he figured that Tom was the closest thing to a brother that he would ever know.
Marcus shook the sand from his pants, and tried to wipe the sand that clung to his skin. Without much success. He gave up, opting to save it for the showers.
He looked up and immediately locked eyes with the final member of his team.
Vera-762. Marcus thought she was impressive. Her fighting skills nearly matched his own. Her marksmanship skills were nothing short of incredible. However, she was rather quiet, Tom described her as being "reserved." However, much of that was only in calmer instances. She became much more open and carefree when she was actively engaged. He remembered how the most open she had been with him was shortly after a firefight with a group of insurrectionists.
Even now, everyone having pushed themselves to the limit, she remained poised. The only indicator that she had even exerted herself was the way her chest continued to rise and fall. She had let her hair loose, it should have fallen to almost the small of her back. But having been kept up during the exercise, it messily fell to just below her shoulders.
Marcus felt his eyes had lingered a little too long for what he deemed acceptable, and refocused on her eyes.
Eyes that were staring cooly at him. Had she caught him?
No, she was probably just angry at him for hitting her with Val. He reasoned to himself.
He began a slow march over to her. It was only training, no one meant to hurt anyone here. Apologies weren't exactly required, but he still felt he should ask if she was uninjured.
"Vera, are you alright?" Marcus asked, trying to sound interested and not concerned.
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Are you alright? You seemed dazed a moment ago, you aren't going to pass out are you?" She inquired.
Damn, she had noticed.
His words stumbled out as he tried to find an answer that wasn't, i was just staring at you.
"Oh, well I… I just felt a head rush." Marcus blurted, hoping this excuse would save him.
"Hm, Val did catch you off guard. I doubt its anything serious, but if it happens again you should have it checked. Who knows what kind of trouble you could get in if you were distracted again." Vera lectured. But as she said this the corners of her mouth made a barely noticeable turn upwards.
Like the ghost of a smile.
Was she messing with him?
Before he had a chance to think further or ask a question, she had turned and walked away. Marcus counted it lucky since she hadn't seemed to upset about the whole Valerie ramming.
"Hopefully, its only Val who is looking for revenge." He muttered to himself.
A voice rang in his ear, like a thousand murmuring voices in a cave, but then suddenly a single voice rang through it all. One with no discernible inflection or gender or ethnicity.
"I doubt Vera has any intentions of getting back at you. However, be assured that she has not forgotten, and should Valerie come up with an innocent means of getting back at you. She will most likely take it." The AI, Legion, stated.
"Has Val made any mentions yet?" Marcus enquired, watching as his three teammates made their way up the side of the pit and towards the barracks.
"None yet, but she will most likely swear me to keep them a secret." Legion, replied.
"You wont tell me if they are planning something? How could you?" Griped Marcus, feigning betrayal.
"I will give her advisements that will limit your bodily harm, i promise. However, I am somewhat conflicted on to what extent those limits will cover, considering you used her like a club." The AI wryly threatened.
"I have a feeling that the consequences for that wont be forgotten for a long time." Marcus groaned, as he climbed up the slope and looked at the world he had known for what seemed like an eternity.
Reach.