I do not own Halo or any of the characters.
Smoking Crater
Ethan walked over the scorched ground in silence. It was all done burning. It had been years ago. But still, it was horrible to see. After all, his family had been from Reach. And his cousin had died there. Well, not really his cousin anymore. Spartans didn't officially have families, right? Even when they did. Just like how they never die.
Ethan stopped as he found what he had been looking for. A helmet, stuck part-way buries in the ground. He knelt, pulling it free of the ground and staring at the shattered visor. It had taken a beating. The metal was dented, there were plasma burns under the dust and dirt, and the visor had clearly been on the receiving end of a blunt object. But the helmet had mostly survived thanks to the area, a very small area of barely more than a square mile, not getting glassed, for whatever reason.
"You found it," a feminine voice said as an A.I. with a light pink body appeared in front of him in his vision, only his, since he was the only one able to see her.
She had her dark red hair pulled back into a ponytail reaching the middle of her back, and there were darker red, almost maroon, markings over her body, quite intentionally, like an excessively revealing bathing suit with a strip reaching from the back of her neck down over one breast and connecting to its twin low on her pelvis before reaching between her legs. She kept her appearance as such on purpose, because other than the dark markings, she manifested her avatar nude, and she liked showing it off to him. He ignored her now, though, turning the helmet over and pulling the data chip out of the base of the back. It was damaged, but it could be salvaged.
"Let's plug that baby in and see what's what," the A.I. said.
"No," Ethan said. "We'll watch it on the ship. We've taken too long as it is. We're going to get our asses chewed out again."
"Can't wait," the A.I. smiled.
"Behave Maria," Ethan said, setting the helmet back in its hole and turning, walking away while keeping the data chip in his hand. "You know what happens when the Captain gets angry."
"I have a good laugh and you pretend to listen?" Maria smirked, walking along beside him.
"And then we run training simulations for seventeen hours straight," Ethan said.
"You love the training simulations," Maria said. "You love whooping Marines asses. Ever since your brief stint in the Corps, and then your drafting, you absolutely love to give back to the assholes that made your life hell."
"And you love making my life hell," Ethan said.
"Hey! I make your life fun," Maria corrected before disappearing as Ethan climbed into his pelican. "What would you do without me?"
"Exactly the same thing I do now," Ethan said, flying up off of the ground and then into orbit, his heavily modified pelican having no trouble breathing the atmosphere.
Once they were out, he flew back to his assigned ship, the Infinity, and flew into the hangar, finding the Captain, the First Officer, and the Spartan Commander technically in charge of him waiting to arrest him for going AWOL. He opened the cockpit and hopped out, landing in a low squat before standing, double-checking that he hadn't damaged the data chip anymore, before holding it out to the Spartan.
"Captain Del Rio," Ethan nodded. "I surrender."
The captain glared at him. "I want him off of my ship! This is the fourth time he's done this!"
"We don't have the authority," the First Officer, Lasky sighed. "What were you after anyway?"
"My cousin's data chip," Ethan said. "Spartan-B312. He took the place of Noble Six just before Reach fell. I wanted his data chip so I could see what happened."
"It's damaged," the Spartan, Palmer, stated, holding up the cracked chip. "Might as well throw it away."
"It's still usable," Ethan said. "Just a little more challenging than a normal one."
"You can work with this?" Palmer asked.
"Of course," Ethan said. "It's why I'm on this ship to begin with, right?"
Palmer didn't answer, staring at the data chip before handing it back to him. "You know the drill."
"Bed without supper and be at the simulation room before reveille tomorrow," Ethan said, walking past them. "See you there."
"Damn that bastard!" Del Rio snarled. "Damn ONI! I don't want that bastard on my ship!"
"Well, ONI says it's not your call, so we're stuck with him," Lasky said.
Ethan stopped outside the door to the common room, listening to the Marines inside.
"-bastard just got back from going AWOL, again," one was saying.
"Oh fuck, not again!" another groaned. "Why is it, every time he runs off without permission, we end up getting punished by having to fight him?"
"It's all that bitch Halsey's fault for making him," a third grumbled.
"Fuck I don't want a freak like him on board," the first said. "The Spartans are bad enough, but him..."
"I agree," the third said. "I don't care what kind of experiment that bitch comes up with. I don't want some freaky-"
The door hissed open and all three went silent, staring at Ethan as he walked in, sitting down at a table in the corner, his back in the corner. He held two fingers lazily to his forehead before waving them in a mock salute at the three who all immediately left the room, leaving him alone. Ethan sighed, scratching his left arm with his right before staring at it for a moment. It was a prosthetic, the metal extending partway onto his torso from the shoulder. It was slightly different than most, however. It was designed with the general shape of a normal arm, and was about ten times as strong as his normal arm, and was more durable and harder than Spartan armor. And plasma-proof. The last had been a special feature he had had to save up for a long time to get, just in case he pissed off an Elite with an Energy sword one day, that way he could use the arm to block the blade without losing the arm.
"Are you alright?" Maria asked, appearing in miniature on the table in front of them.
"I'm fine," Ethan said, picking up the helmet he had brought with him after taking his armor off and putting the data chip in place of his own, pulling the helmet on.
"Beginning playback," Maria said, disappearing from the table as she began to operate his helmet's playback system.
A video feed appeared inside of his black visor as he watched the recording of Noble Team's downfall. Jorge, the team's heavy, and only SPARTAN-II, sacrificed himself to blow up a Covenant super-carrier, only for multiple armadas to appear. Catherin-B320, Noble Team's second-in-command, was sniped in the head by an Elite while running to a safe-house to escape a Glassing. Carter, Noble Team's leader, sacrificed himself by crashing a Pelican into a Scarab tank to destroy it so that Noble Six and Emile could complete their mission. Emile was stabbed by an Elite while operating a Railgun, though he took the Elite with him. Jun, the on surviving member of Noble Team, had escaped the planet with Dr. Halsey, which Ethan knew, since Jun had been halfway responsible for him becoming what he was. Well, maybe halfway was being generous. Twelve percent would be more accurate. Finally, Ethan stopped the fast-forward as he watched Noble Six, alone as the last human alive on an entire planet of Covenant, most of which were Grunt Heavies, which were trained and equipped well enough to be considered an at least halfway decent threat, Jackals, Skirmishers, and Elite Zealots.
Noble Six fought hard, not because he was going to survive, not because he was protecting anything, and not because he had any real reason to. He just did. He made the Covenant pay for as much of the destruction of Reach as he could. And for the deaths of his teammates. Maria kept track of his kill-count as it climbed past three hundred before a jackal finally put a needle rifle shot through his leg. And then Noble Six continued to fight. Three fifty. Three seventy five. Three eighty five. An Elite smashed his visor with a kick before dying and Six collapsed before pulling the helmet off and dropping it. Then, the camera watched from the ground as Six picked up an assault rifle and a pistol and continued to fight, killing a handful more Elites before being knocked down. One tried to kill him with an Energy Sword, so he killed it. Another tried and he knocked the sword away. However, that Elite wasn't as easily killed and finally drove the smaller wrist-mounted Energy Blade that the higher classes of Elites carried in place of knives down into Six.
Ethan sighed, pulling the helmet off and pulling the data chip back out, putting his own back in. "At least I know he made them work for it."
"He was incredible," Maria said. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Ethan asked. "He died fighting. It's what Spartans do."
"You won't," Maria said. "I'm not letting you die."
Ethan tapped his fingers on his helmet for a few seconds before standing, Maria disappearing in a flash as he walked out of the room and to his barracks room. One of the benefits of being him was that he was given his own room to spare everyone else the indignity of being stuck with him. He set the helmet on the floor beside his bed and climbed in, sighing and closing his eyes.
"Wake me in the morning," Ethan said. "And make sure I wake up with enough time to shave this time, alright?"
"If you insist," Maria shrugged, remaining silent until Ethan was on the verge of falling asleep before waking him. "Is this enough time to shave?"
"I will decomission you," Ethan threatened.
Maria chuckled. "Alright, alright. Go to sleep. I'll behave this time."
Ethan nodded and drifted off. The next morning, he walked into his bedroom and yawned, quickly brushing his teeth and shaving his stubble before staring at his reflection. Short, messy brown hair swept to the right and back, vibrant blue eyes, slightly tan skin, though still too pale from wearing the armor too often, eternal shadows under his eyes, and a single scar down the left side of his face above and below his eye like Kakashi Hatake from Naruto, or Scar from Lion King. Now there was a classic.
"Good luck today," Maria said.
"I don't need luck," Ethan said, grabbing his helmet off the floor and walking out of the room, Maria walking at his side. "It's just Marines."
Maria chuckled and nodded, and they walked to the armor bay, getting his armor on before heading to the simulation room. The simulation room was a huge square room with square blocks slightly taller than the average SPARTAN-IV spread throughout it in a grid. The blocks, however, could rise from, and sink into, the floor as needed. Currently, they were in the floor, and there were a line of five Spartans, including Palmer, waiting for Ethan, all five of their armor white with yellow highlights, where Ethan's armor was mostly dark blue, since that color went with both his robot arm and his black bodysuit the best.
"We figued you'd gotten tired of working over our Marines, and our Marines are definitely tired of it, so you'll be going up against us today," Palmer said, tossing him one of the two staves she was holding.
Ethan caught it and the ends sparked for a moment before he sighed. it was a Spartan pugil stick, one designed for indoc training. The electricity short-circuited the motor functions of the armor, leaving it too heavy for a Spartan to move properly and disabling them for a few minutes. He looked up at Palmer as she pulled her helmet on. He didn't want to do this. He hated training against her. He always felt guilty.
"Begin," Palmer said.
The other four rushed him instantly, beginning to strike at him rapidly. And he reacted easily. He spun, ducked, deflected, and struck back rapidly. He knocked a staff aside and drilled the end of his staff into one Spartan's gut, then flipped the end down and around, catching another under the chin, flipping him backward. One swiped at him from the side and he spun away, avoiding the strike before propellering his staff, the ends slamming into the spartan rapidly before he turned in a complete circle, bringing the staff around like a bat into the side of the Spartan's helmet and launching him into the fourth. The first Spartan jabbed at Ethan quickly and he deflected the blows before stepping forward, watching the Spartan's staff between his own and his side, then spun, the staff hitting the Spartan and flinging him into the second Spartan. As they crashed to the ground, the fourth hurled his staff like a javelin into Ethan's chest and sprinted forward, catching it only for Ethan to drop, sweeping his feet out from under him with a kick, then slam the pugil stick into his helmet as he dropped. He stood, looking around at the three unconscious Spartans around him, and the one who's armor mobility was shut down.
"That wasn't too bad," Ethan said, then dropped and spun to his right as Palmer's staff swiped down at him from behind.
She spun, swiping at him again and he deflected it over himself before they began to block and trade blows, both struggling to gain the upper hand. However, finally, Ethan caught her staff with his robot hand and yanked it away from her before shoving it back at her, the end of it crashing into her chest armor hard enough to throw her away. He tossed the stick aside and sighed.
"You alright Palmer?" he asked.
"Great," Palmer groaned, standing. "I forget how much force that arm's got. I think we'll skip hand-to-hand combat for today."
"Probably a good idea," he nodded. "What's next?"
"Sticky paint," Palmer said, as a hatch opened in the floor on either end of the room and the blocks rose out of the floor.
He nodded, walking to the table and picking up the magnum and a pair of mags with sticky paint rounds loaded into them. Sticky paint wasn't quite accurate. It was instant cement. It was solid until given an electric charge, at which point it liquified and fell away. It was also a very effective, if not entirely fun, way to train. Well, alright. It was kind of fun for him.
He spun around the first pillar as the buzzer sounding the beginning of the simulation went off and immediately snapped his arm up, firing three shots and hitting one of the Spartans in the chest twice and the head, dropping him. He started forward at a quick combat glide, moving with a practiced ease. One of the Spartans stepped out beside him, raising their pistol to his head with one hand, but they were entirely too close. Ethan's head snapped up, catching his wrist and jerking the pistol to the side just in time for the shot to hit another Spartan on Ethan's other side in the pistol. Ethan jumped, kicking the second Spartan in the chest and forcing them back before landing and spinning, swinging the Spartan whose arm he was holding around into a pillar before shooting him in the back of both shoulders and thighs, tacking him to the block. He Spun instantly, sweeping a punch from the other spartan aside and drove the barrel of his pistol into their gut before grabbing their arm and twisting it around behind their back and spinning, using the Spartan to block several shots from the other Spartan. Then, he shoved them away and dropped his mag just in time for Palmer to step out and snap kick his pistol into the air, raising her own. He shoved her wrist out to the side as she fired and swept her arm over his head, twisting it forward, bending her forward at the waist before stripping the pistol away from her and catching his own, grabbing his spare mag between his pistol and the stolen pistol as he slammed a push kick into Palmer's side, throwing her away.
Then, he leapt backward as several shots flashed past, hitting the block. He slammed the mag in as Palmer reached him again, punching at him. He leaned out of the way and slammed a devastating uppercut into her gut with his pistol, the pistol's slide racking as he did just from how hard he threw the punch. It also lifted Palmer off the ground just in time for her back to block several shots aimed at his face. Ethan spun away, around a block and sprinted forward, then dropped into a slide as the Spartan stepped out to shoot at him, taking their legs out from under them before turning and emptying both pistols into their torso and limbs, completely immobilizing them.
He sighed, standing as the ground and blocks all electrified slightly, just enough to remove the sticky paint, but not enough to get through their armor. Palmer stood and he handed her back her pistol. Then, they reset and went again. Then again, and again. Each time played out in a different order, and each time ended with Ethan not receiving a single hit. Finally, when the score hit ten for him, and zero for Palmer and her team, all of whom were limping, hobbling, and complaining about him, Palmer called it a day.
"I can understand why the Marines hate training with him," one of the Spartans complained. "That freak's barely even human anymore."
"Yeah, no shit," one of the Spartans groaned. "Now I know how the Marines felt every time we fought an Elite."
"Dammit, why won't Captain Del Rio just kick this fucking asshole off the ship?" the first asked. "He's not even military is he?"
"Not really," the fourth said. "He's some kind of Freelancer or something. A military contractor, I think."
"Close," Ethan said, walking into the hallway from the training room, Palmer just behind him. "I'm as close to a Freelancer mercenary as the UNSC can legally get."
One of the Spartans snorted. "Yeah, okay."
"I said 'the closest they can legally get,'" Ethan repeated, "not the closest they go."
"Spartans, if you have time to bitch and gossip about him being here, you have time to work, so you're going to clean the pistols," Palmer said. "I'll be back to inspect them after chow."
All four began to complain, but turned, heading back to the training room anyway. Ethan headed to the armor bay with Palmer, both getting their armor taken off before heading up to one of the observation decks. Ethan leaned on the railing and sighed, staring out at the stars.
"Are you alright?" Palmer asked.
"I should be asking you that," Ethan said. "Sarah-"
"Don't," Palmer interrupted. "Don't do that. I'm not mad you kicked my ass. You know that. It was training. You were supposed to kick my ass."
"How did you know what I was going to say?" Ethan asked.
"We've known each other for long enough for me to read you pretty well, Ethan," Palmer said. "Which is why...I know you're struggling with your...circumstances. Dr. Halsey asked me to give her reports on your mental condition, you know? I've been telling her you've been degrading."
"I know," Ethan said. "I've read your reports. You're surprisingly accurate."
"What did they do to you?" Palmer asked.
"They took away my humanity," Ethan said.
Palmer was silent for a while before speaking. "Any girls caught your eye?"
"Come on Palmer, you know me better than that," Ethan said. "The only girl I'm keeping an eye on is Halsey, that way I know when to pull the trigger."
Palmer sighed, shaking her head. "You shouldn't joke about that."
"Who's joking?" Ethan asked. "That cunt earned it after everything she did. To the early Spartans and to me."
Palmer remained silent again. "We'll probably get to chow just as the mess hall opens if we go now. It's Fat Ass Friday."
"Mmm," Ethan smiled. "Burgers."
Palmer smiled. "I thought that might cheer you up."
"Hell yeah," Ethan smiled. "I love eating like a fat ass."
Palmer chuckled and nodded and they left, heading for the mess hall.
Leave a review. For those of you who don't know, I got the idea for the training from Red vs Blue. Wonderful show, definitely recommend you watch it.