Six started her day with a luxurious breakfast, for her standards. Someone had stocked the kitchen which meant this was a safehouse. Eggs were nearly impossible to come by in the field during an operation, at least intact. Even rarer was bacon. One handler had been from what had once been America, told her about bacon, fried chicken, and something called iced tea, which was supposedly—

Focus on what lies ahead.

The meeting with the public was going to be interesting.

'I haven't interacted with the public since New Alexandria, aside from the counterinsurgency ops I ran before Reach.'

Six was damned if she'd follow the track record as ONI's Grim Reaper here. She would contribute to the legend today, and it wouldn't do to leave a negative mark and dishonor the sacrifices she stood atop. Suddenly she wished she hadn't eaten anything, felt sick to her stomach.

Parangosky hadn't given her a solid time frame, so there would be an agent at her door sometime. Six should make an effort to tidy up, it wouldn't do for humanity's shield to look scraggly and roughshod, and she still had wounds to dress. Where would a first aid kit most likely be, in this hotel room? Likely somewhere in the bathroom, where there would be light and a somewhat clean environment. A quick search led to the discovery of a compartment behind the mirror, holding a zippered bag with a red cross on it.

She set about finding sore spots and evaluating whether they could be treated with the limited supplies at hand. Alarmingly, there were burn marks across her body, likely from an energy sword or plasma weapons, mostly along her upper body.

'The lack of puncture wounds said that the teams they sent to hunt me down were all Sangheili, that I was a big thorn in their side to waste an army of the Elite to snuff me out and they had all failed just like me.'

The bindings Six applied to protect her burns pulled and tugged at her fur, but at least they wouldn't get stuck like a can of biofoam did. There was a distressing amount before last night's shower, which was only concerning because there wasn't any nearby, there shouldn't have been anyone left to apply it, and when she came to, she had barely been touched.

Left with more questions than answers, it was time to pick out something to wear. Yesterday's outfit was ruined with biofoam and grime from weeks of non-stop combat built up under the form-fit suit and mechanical armor. Maybe something in the closet? This was a place where ONI could put someone that needed to remain hidden, for at least a short time, so there should be at least something.

What little was there should suffice with minor adjustments. A long sleeve shirt that fastened with buttons, the sleeves were black, and the black fabric extended along her collarbone but didn't go below it. The fabric below her collarbone was white and extended to mid-thigh. Pants were mostly nondescript, reminiscent of black slacks, and needed a hole for her tail. She already had custom shoes from her previous garbs, as they were custom built for her. Being one of a kind had its downsides, not that ONI cared what its experiments thought about. Still, there were certain perks, she supposed. The boots were nearly indestructible like she apparently was.

After the necessary modifications were made, all that was left was to wait for the chauffeur and to consolidate what she knew. When she woke up, her wounds had been treated with biofoam, which wasn't readily available on Reach outside of the health kits she was nowhere near, her wounds were mainly plasma burns and sword scars, meaning that the Covenant wanted her dead as fast as possible but something she had done had let her escape them, and whatever that was, even the woman who knew everything in the UNSC had no clue how she got off Reach. Jun might have made it off of Reach, but there was little chance Parangosky would tell her if he was. That brought a small smile to her face at least.

Six didn't know how much of the general populace knew sign language, which might be a problem. Spartans were the definition of the strong, silent type, and Six felt this would be no exception. She had an image to keep up, after all, and she was missing a crucial part: Armor. The armor almost ubiquitous with Spartans was nowhere to be found, no doubt in the Office's hands, being analyzed for the next set, seeing where the old platform failed to improve on the next. How long before they replaced her just like the armor? What would a Spartan IV look like?

At any rate, she hoped she could get someone to act as an interpreter because she didn't want them to hear her. Her voice was rough and scratchy, not heroic at all. More the voice of a villain, in her unprofessional opinion. If anything, it was like sandpa—

Knock Knock

The agent was here, then. Time to get to work. ONI's COM pad found its way into her pocket, it was as useful as it was a casual invasion of privacy. A different officer had been sent after her, one much more acclimated to the planet than the last, almost like she belonged. Time to try something out.

"Do you know sign language?"

"Yes, and I know all about you, now let's get a move on. We'll be late."

"How are we getting there?"

"Full of questions, are you? We've got a small car. Might be a tight fit for someone of your stature, but I'm sure you'll manage like you always do."

'Who was she to know so much? I'm a pretty well kept secret. It's no surprise Parangosky knew, for whoever this new agent is, she must be pretty high up.'

"I'm Serin, and I'll be your handler for your time on earth"

'I'm a little worried I'm considered important enough to warrant sending her successor to watch after her. Something really is up.'

"Why the special treatment? Figured they'd send a field agent after me."

"No such in, we're going to be late."

The venue was smaller than she expected for the location. Serin had taken them to the Kikowani district, which was to be expected. It had a lot of tech companies, several products of which she had used extensively throughout her career and quite possibly the neural interface embedded in her skull that wouldn't stop buzzing. There was a major telecommunications company there, who would probably broadcast their meeting to anyone who wanted to watch. She felt like a circus exhibit, at least they wouldn't dissect her because they put her together in the first place. Six hoped Serin would stick around, so she didn't have to talk too much.

Six knew of her current handler, but she didn't know about her. There was something about how she moved though, the fluidity almost reminded her of a Spartan. Maybe she trained with them as a part of an ODST unit? Not that it mattered, she would only have to work with her for a few months and even then she would probably have figured things out and struck it out on her own. Old habits die hard.

They had to take the train to the right building. Six spent the whole trip looking out the window, looking at some of the tallest and most complex buildings she'd ever seen.

The tallest in the city was the Vyrant Telecom tower, standing at near two kilometers tall, and was their destination. As the pair entered the building, Six wondered whether the crowding was because of the normal traffic of the building, or the Spartan giving a press conference. She was sure that there were people profiteering from the stories from the insurrectionists that she made disappear—

'Focus, there are eyes all around'

On instinct her posture hunched slightly, ready to move, her hackles and ears raised and her eyes swiveled side to side, searching for escape routes and threats.

'Why did I agree to this—'

Six had almost snapped when Serin touched her arm and that would have been very bad indeed, she whipped around to look at her—

Only to see the Spartan sign for stop

'what? There was no way in hell she knows—'

"Are all IIIs so jumpy? We weren't nearly as emotional. No wonder you don't get all the nice toys we have."

"We?"

"I'm Serin S-019. The bone augments didn't stick, so I got frozen. Parangosky was interested. Now let's go, we're here to learn about you, not me."

Six's anxiety faded and the aggression that felt like it was radiating from her skin receded. Knowing that she had a Spartan II here made her feel almost safe, reminded her of the past. Of the two man hunter-killer teams she started on her career, of Jorge. Still, the revelation scared her more than the people seeing her. Serin's body possessed the same terrifying strength hers did, but her bones weren't nearly unbreakable. Her level of control was terrifying. She was able to reign in her instincts for the time being, but the other woman was dangerous, to keep such a secret.

'Why tell me?'

The meeting started off with a preface of the mayor. He talked about how the UNSC was fighting for all of the good of all humanity. She knew better though, and had personally made entire militias and insurrections disappear. He had charisma, at least. It felt like the mayor talked forever, leaving the two officers standing around awkwardly, it seemed neither of them knew what to do quite yet.

"Maybe she's testing both of us?"

"Seems that way. Get ready, he's almost done. I'll translate for you."

"Thank you"

Six stepped up to the podium while the crowd was still cheering for their mayor. To her surprise, the cheering only got louder. When the crowd finally quieted down, she opened her mouth as if to speak, but just before she did, she turned immediately to Serin, and started to sign. She still had something of a mischievous side, after all.

"I am Spartan B-312, but you can call me Six"

The crowd was in uproar as Serin relayed that into the microphone. Hundreds of questions flooded from the crowd, flashing cameras overtaking her senses. She heard a few she could answer. "Where did you learn sign language? Why don't you talk?"

Six tapped the mic, leaned in, took a breath, and with a raspy voice, spoke to normal people for the first time.

"For a Spartan it pays, to be the strong, silent type."