Oguma sat back in his office. His mahogany desk, freshly polished this morning by one of his servants, already looked dull in his scathing gaze. Nothing kept its sheen in the eyes of the Red Deer. Everything could be better, even him. That's why he loathed tardiness. Such a trait showed that a person was behind before they even had a chance to improve. It was this tardiness that so strained his patience after being assured he'd have the materials he needed from a black market messenger. He was spending a small fortune on this operation after all. That winged deplorable better not have gotten cold feet. Everything relies on this information, and its obtainment remains discreet.

To act as the devil's advocate, this was not an easy venture. Even if everything went according to plan, there would still be fires that he'd need to put out, but that was already assuming a lot. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. After all that I've done to build on this company's legacy, I'll be damned if I let some startup muscle me out!

Oguma took his glasses off for a moment and pulled out his handkerchief from his suit's chest pocket. Using the square of fabric, he started to polish the lenses. He could see out of them perfectly fine, it was just an idle action he found himself doing when he felt close to losing his composure. I used to only do this during serious meetings when I was younger. It feels like I'm doing it every day now.

The creaking of the door on the far side of the oppressive room announced the arrival of his anticipated package. Yuta marched up with his usual hastened pace, an orange envelope in his hands. He placed it on the stag's desk, having already received orders from the messenger to bring it straight to the CEO, with no exceptions or detours. Inferring the confidential element of what he'd been carrying, the sheep went ahead and saw himself out.

The first thing Oguma noticed was a bulge near the midsection of the envelope, no doubt supplemental materials from the underground fixer. He pulled out the document he needed eyes on first, a single sheet of paper that would be the backbone of his means to victory.

To the Association Leaders of the Black Market,

There has arisen an issue of corporate interest that has become a nuisance as of late. SolTech, the company that has allied itself with the aliens of the UNSC, is a threat and common enemy between us all. We understand that the Spartans have taken a significant deal from you, monetarily or otherwise, and we know they possess great capabilities. If things continue on as they are, we will suffer a death by a thousand cuts. However, they are not invincible, especially if we are able to come to a definitive, if temporary, truce. What my faction brings to the table is an ample war chest and access to a selection of more robust armaments. If the possibility of retaliation piques the interest of any of you, make your marks below. As a token of goodwill, you will each be given an allotment regardless of your decision. We ask that you act with caution concerning this subject as we believe all communication besides that of physical correspondence is being monitored. We await your responses.

Respectfully, A Hopeful Benefactor

Below the message were three signatures from the leaders of the Madaragumi, the Inarigumi, and the Dokugumi. The buck let out a huff of disappointment through his snout. The Shishigumi were the ones I needed the most! They were the only ones that haven't been weakened by the hits carried out these past few months.

He understood why as soon as he started to consider the reasons. They were the only ones who had never tried to put up a fight against the UNSC. Having seen the blows being dealt to their competitors, the Shishigumi had pivoted to start focusing on their clubs and casinos. Places with civilians that the Spartans couldn't touch. The Lions had no drive to go after the UNSC when they could continue on unimpeded with their new business model.

Oguma brought his fist under his chin, weighing the odds. It was then that he remembered the bulge in the envelope and reached out for it with his free hand. Emptying the remaining contents, a series of pictures spilled out with a thin cardboard box. The pictures drew his attention first, and he started to analyze them. They were shots taken of each of the Spartans, SolTech HQ, the Sublime Beastar, the Panda Doctor of Big Bear Cat Psychiatric Hospital, and the recently completed Apollo Fusion Power Plant. They had notes, dates, and projected timelines of departures and arrivals of personnel. The stag had to suppress a fear that started to itch at his brain. How could someone obtain all this information? Am I being fed this on purpose?

He then switched his sights to the box, opening it up. Inside was what looked to be a simple earpiece worn by your typical call center peon. Turning it over to look on the side that would face outward, he saw a small white feral eagle, a globe, and a banner that stretched over the world labeled UNSC. It seemed to mark the perimeter of a button.Still uncertain, Oguma went to the box again to find a notecard addressed to him.

Benefactor,

You know if we do this, we have to do this right, otherwise, we are all dead. You do not know how hard this was to obtain. This is our one and only in. Keep it brief. Press the button when you are ready.

-V

He flipped it over just in case there was something he missed.

P.S. If you go through with this, I will fold if I am pressed. If you want insurance for fucking up, triple the job pay and send it our way.

Oguma just scoffed at the passive threat. Black Market scum. You will be just a loose end to tie up in the end.

The stag slipped the earpiece on and pushed the button. He then steepled his fingers while leaning forward on his desk. His mind was filled with a myriad of questions, but he doubted they were pertinent to his goal so he pushed them aside for now.

When the line connected he was greeted by the sound of static buzzing before a sickly voice broke through the noise. "Headchairman Oguma, I am glad that you have decided to reach out. I apologize, but our time is limited, so I must be curt. Just know that I am your greatest ally at this moment and that I wish to assist your cause."

Oguma's phone started to buzz and he reached to see who it was. All that appeared was Unknown Caller #11313131313.

"Good. You have my number now. I will call you with details in the future. Until next time." Not even having the opportunity to respond, the static sound started once more, growing louder and louder until the buck had to pull the earpiece off from the painful volume. It went on and on until finally there was a crackling pop and the noise died, smoke starting to rise from the burnt-out device.

The stag stared at the UNSC tech for a minute. Nothing felt right about it, but there also didn't seem to be any alternatives at this point, nor any backing out. He just opened up the drawer and swept the inert earpiece inside. Taking off his glasses again, he leaned back in his seat, letting his mind roam as he counted the crystal structures of a chandelier that hung overhead.

James' HUD was zoomed in to its maximum magnification as he watched the Zebuth streets from his perch. The early evening had been quiet so far on the eighth floor of an abandoned car factory. It gave him a perfect vantage point over an area of the city known as The Blocks. It was Zebuth's version of the Black Market, but unlike the city where Gold Team had crashed, The Blocks were not separated from downtown in the same manner as the Market. Instead, the city had a special heavy police team that monitored several entry and exit ways. Herbivore guards maintained a calm and just demeanor facing outwards toward the rest of town, meanwhile, carnivore guards kept their kind in check by stopping any meat drunks from leaving The Blocks. At least, that was how it was supposed to operate in theory.

In reality, most of the carnivores were in the pockets of the local Gumis. They were fat, lazy, and oftentimes browsing the merchandise that the local vendors had on display. On several occasions, James had seen the officers watch fights break out between patrons or attacks from meat fiends and enforcers not move to help.

That is where the latest line of homebrewed UNSC weaponry came into play. Currently on his titanium back magnet was an M99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, a gauss rifle more often referred to as simply the Stanchion. The Spartan II preferred to use the Stanchion in the past over the SRS99. Compared to its competition, the Stachion was recoilless, hit harder, reached further, held six more rounds per magazine with the ammo itself being lighter, and was practically silent. The only drawbacks were its limited power supply, approximately 30 full-powered shots before the energy output tapered off, and its bulkiness. Being 1.7 meters in length and twenty kilograms, the only practical usage the Stanchion saw by regular UNSC soldiers was in guard towers. Anything else and a man might kill himself lugging the thing around with a proper combat load. As for James, he could not be any happier.

Scanning through some of the smaller alleyways, the Spartan switched to thermals to spot anything lurking in the darkness. Just as he'd suspected, some kind of canid creature erratically stomped about. Its body twitched unnaturally and its head jerked about in a paranoid fashion, the typical sign of a meat addict. Had the panda been here, he might have tried to make an attempt at rehabilitation, but the veteran had no such drive. The creature was already too far gone to suit his purposes.

James then felt his hand move for his Stanchion. It was an impulse he had picked up somewhere over the years of training and warfare. There was about to be conflict, his body knew it, and his conscious mind finally spotted it in the form of an otter couple. They had stumbled out of a bar by the look of it, leaning on each other as they attempted to drunkenly navigate their surroundings. In their stupor, they likely did not sense the canid that had contorted his body upon smelling potential.

The Spartan already had his weapon up in his kneeling position when the creature took off in a mad dash toward the main street. His finger held down the primary trigger, charging up the series of electromagnetic coils that lined the rifle's barrel. The low hum of the asynchronous linear induction motor signaled the charge was ready, and not a moment too soon. The canid had leaped from the shadows of the alley, clawed hands outstretched in anticipation. Being so sure of his aim, James did not even bother to take his sniper's breath when he pulled the secondary trigger.

Both otters were still ignorant of their situation when they heard some sort of explosion off to the side and behind them. They fell forward onto the concrete, both on instinct and due to their inebriated state, while a light drizzle fell down on them. The two sobered up quickly as the sickly sweet irony scent filled their noses. Turning around, they were greeted by a grizzly sight. An animal, possibly a carnivore, painted the street with its gore. All that was intact was the being's lower torso and legs. What intestines remained attached to the main body were slowly slipping into a beach ball sized crater in the ground. There was then a second impact that sent the couple scampering backward further. It was the creature's head, having come back down from its powerful popup, jaw tearing off from the secondary crash back to earth.

The otters, snapping out of their terror, helped each other to their feet as they scrambled to get away from the scene as quickly as possible.

Back in the factory, James let the motor die down before stowing the Stanchion on his back once more. He was thinking about moving positions again when he heard the telltale sound of an insect swarm. The now full-bodied vagabond projected himself into reality next to the Spartan, his decayed hand made his cane tap twice on the factory floor. Though it wasn't real, the AI projected the sound into James' helmet all the same. "A fine shot." Lazarus half-whispered half-croaked.

The Spartan shifted his weight away from AI's gray avatar. "Thanks." He said with a monotone.

"I have made a breakthrough concerning data that I acquired from ONI Section 4 before our departure last Autumn. There is a location that I need you to investigate in Eastern Africa, approximately where New Mombasa would be. The nature of this mission is of the highest importance."

James remained silent for a moment before speaking again. "Does this have something to do with Alpha Site?"

"Yes, though I cannot be certain just what about it yet. I am still decrypting an extensive backlog of ONI files which I have dedicated the majority of my processing power to over the past few months. Ones that I have had a particular interest in concern the After Action Reports of a group of survivors from the Paris-class Heavy Frigate, Gettysburg."

The operator had read some reports from other UNSC ships that had followed the Cole Protocol and still managed to return to Earth following the Fall of Reach. The Gettysburg was not among those that made it. "I thought the crew of the Gettysburg were KIA?"

The AI nodded to confirm his assessment. "They were indeed, Senior Chief. The bridge and life support had been struck by plasma lance and vented a good portion of the crew, leaving the rest to suffocate or freeze. However, it managed to return to the Sol System fused to a Covenant Ruma-pattern Light Carrier, Ascendant Justice. It docked at the Borneo Space Tether a few hours before our transfer to Nassau Station."

James slowly turned his helmet to the hologram. "Did you say fused?"

"I did, and I am just as curious as to how that was managed as you are. I will update you when I can extrapolate more data. Until then, I have formed an alibi for you to present to the Commander to be released. For some time, the Sublime Beastar for much of Northeastern Africa has been in poor health. Their Beastar appointment system, instead of being a representative-based affair like in our current region, is autocratic with the Sublime Beastar being the sole judge. I have subsidized a local pro-carnivore paramilitary group that has been looking to put their leader in the head seat, and they will be eliminating the old Sublime any day now. As they are a rather ignorant group, they will likely implement a very dysfunctional government that will be abusive to the greater populace. This is when you will act as the tip of the spear in dismantling what little organization they have while simultaneously investigating Alpha Site."

James his head down, looking back at canid's remains in the street. Some officers had actually bothered to come investigate, and of course were bewildered by what they saw, not having the slightest clue where to even begin. "People are going to suffer."

"People always suffer, Senior Chief. What is important is what they will suffer for. We are the greatest good, so whatever we need to do overwrites the wants of others." Lazarus said with a firmness that had not been heard before.

"I know. I was just reminding myself." The Spartan stood and made his way to one of the factory's empty elevator shafts. With a short hop, he dropped into the darkness.