I walked through the halls of infinity, leaded by the hulk of a man, Crow, and the tiny terror Fallen. We were going to something called the "war games." They say it accounts for most of the entertainment value on this ship. Fallen wouldn't tell me what they were, said it would "ruin the surprise." Whatever that meant. We turned down another hall and came to a terminal, above the terminal, in big bold letters were the words "War Games Viewport." Fallen smiled and pressed a button on the terminal, a holographic projection of a battlefield appearing in front of the terminal, a screen on the wall ahead. It showed a battleground with two oppositely colored SPARTANs, fighting one another.

"Why are they fighting?" I asked, worriedly.

Crow responded with, "For fun of course, it is a simulator."

That was a relief. The bottom left of the screen said a few words, time, date and something else. Ragnarok. It was a strange word, no idea of its origin I asked no questions.

Fallen hit another button on the terminal and the screen changed to the helmet cam of an individual SPARTAN, she did this a few times before reaching a specific one. In the bottom right it stated, Nikolas Hall, "Dragon" I watched as he layed on the crest of a hill looking down on an enemy base. he looked to his left at another SPARTAN, laying down as well. A small square encapsulated his head, words running off to the side, they stated, Jordan Wolffe "Phoenix" The two seemed to know each other.

"Dragon" nodded to Phoenix, who did in turn. He stood and jumped off the ledge, a flamethrower appearing on the cam. He ran straight toward the enemy base, a mad cackle sounding from inside his visor. He ran toward a side door, a blue SPARTAN that was about to make his way out jumping in surprise and attempting to draw his battle rifle. Too late. A foot planted firmly into his chest, making him fly back, Nikolas's flamethrower came up and scorched the now prone SPARTAN, an echo of a scream coming from the char. The red SPARTAN responsible stepped over his still lit body, walking deeper into the base. he drew a shotgun and blasted a poor soldier coming around the corner, his body flying back and hitting someone else, the Dragon stepped on the two bodies and stuck the barrel of his shotgun into the face of the one still alive, and squeezed. All three of us cringed as he looked up and saw a blue flag waving in a nonexistent wind. Phoenix rounded the corner and nodded at Dragon. The both walked up to the flag, grabbed it, and raised it up. A loud ringing filled the air as the game was declared over. Red team claiming a victory.

I turned to Fallen, "I want to play."

"In due time Ardent." she replied.

Doors to our left and right opened, allowing lines of SPARTANs file out of each side. I recognized Phoenix's armor even without it's red overlay and stopped him and another soldier that he was talking to.

"Dragon and Phoenix correct?" I asked, receiving a nod from both of them.

"Damn good job out there." I said, both of them straightening up a bit.

"Glad to hear it sir, seeing as you'll be leading us both into battle soon enough." said Phoenix

A smile crept across my face, "Amazing how that'd be so."

Dragon laughed, he had the laugh of a Russian, and the tenacity to fit one.

"Local Pyro I presume?" I asked Dragon.

"Yes, that is me." he said proudly Russian accent obvious now.

"And Phoenix, what do you do?" I asked curiously.

"I'll be your infiltration and extraction expert sir." he said, a faint british accent able to be made out.

"Well I'm glad to have you two on the team, any idea where to find the rest of my team?" I asked.

They both nodded, and said in unison, "Mess Hall."

And once again I was being lead through the ship by people I had barely met, but would already trust my life with.

Hello there, I've decide I'm going to accept one more entry than expected, simply because of the fact that I'm enjoying writing them!

P.S. I am in dire need of a medic! Have a good one

~TheLooneyBin~