Chapter 1: Survive

Date: 20 October 2552
Location: Outskirts of Old Mombasa, Kenya, Earth

I awoke with a start, taking a gasp of air for what felt like the first time. My fingers dug into dry dirt as I sat up to gain my bearings. I was in a tunnel littered with heavy machinery and casualties. I couldn't recall how I came to be there and judging by my surroundings I knew I couldn't afford to wait and find out.

Survive.

Explosions boomed in the distance and were easily drowned out by thoughts running rampant in my mind. Words crowded to the foreground before I could halt their assault.

Arid. Warthog. Fire. Carnage.

Glancing down at my clothing my heart swooped with dread. Only a thin, gray unitard adorned my body and my feet were bare. I took a deep, calming breath.

Now would be a great time to remember what happened… or to remember something, anything.

Making sure to keep hidden, I shuffled to the nearest casualties.

Human. Males. Marines.

There were more scattered further into the tunnel.

Foreign. Aliens. Covenant.

I huffed a breath as I began to scope out what armor was still viable and would fit me well enough in order to not inadvertently cause harm. I had only just buckled on a helmet when I heard it.

Underlying the explosions, away from the city, magnified by the tunnel… the hum of an engine. I grabbed what weaponry I could and hunkered down. When I peeked beyond the Warthog, I held my breath.

Ghost. Covenant. Sangheili. Elite.

I checked the magazine of the pistol. One bullet. I cocked the gun. The ghost fell silent on the other side of the warthog. My hopes of the rider passing by, oblivious, were dashed. I stayed low and braced myself to improve accuracy, aiming where I presumed the Elite's head would come into view.

As soon as I saw his dark flesh move into view I shot. A gargled roar rang out down the tunnel as bullet tore through his throat.

Not enough.

I rolled to the left as the Elite charged me, narrowly avoiding a blow. I jumped to my feet, chucked the pistol at his injury to buy time, and ran. A tight grip on the back of my neck yanked me back to the ground.

Too slow.

Air rushed out of my lungs on impact and before I could catch it the Sangheili crouched and began to choke me. I tried not to struggle or panic in order to conserve energy and figure a way out. That was when I noticed two blue orbs at the waist of the Elite.

Plasma grenades.

Swiftly, I snatched one, squeezed, and stuck it to his face. In a frothing rage the Sangheili stumbled back and swiped fruitlessly at the sticky grenade. I choked on my first breaths and attempted to get away from the impending explosion but my limbs would only cooperate in graceless spasms.

I had resigned myself to curling into the fetal position and hoping for the best when something unforeseen occurred. In the blink of an eye something, someone yanked the Elite back and shielded me with his armor-clad body.

A subdued grunt escaped the man as the grenade exploded and the energy shield of his suit took the brunt of the damage. I came to the realization that my hands had gained purchase on his chest plate when he leaned back to stand. My fingertips ran across bumps in the armor.*

Braille. 117.

I glanced up to stare at my own, unknown reflection in the golden-hued visor of 117's helmet.

*Braille on Master Chief's armor does not come around until Halo 4; artistic liberty made me put it in here. :)