The lights in the infirmary of the UNSC Vigilance flickered softly, casting a sterile glow over the rows of medical beds. The survivors from the Star Destroyer lay in their beds, each still groggy from their injuries and recent recovery. Val'Rain and Reynolds stood side by side, their massive forms casting long shadows across the room. Both were dressed in their standard UNSC BDUs—no armor, just fatigues and boots—though their presence alone was enough to unsettle the room.

Val'Rain's Nordic tattoos, visible against his broad, muscled arms, drew quiet attention from the survivors, though they said nothing. He stood like a sentinel, arms crossed, his calm gaze fixed on the nearest Imperial crew member.

Reynolds, less patient than his Spartan counterpart, leaned against a nearby counter, his rifle slung behind him but his eyes sharp. "We're not playing around here, folks," Reynolds began, his voice gruff. "You're going to answer some questions, and we're going to get to the bottom of who you are and why that ship out there nearly blew us out of space."

One of the Imperial survivors, a man with close-cropped dark hair and a face marked by both age and arrogance, turned his head slightly, blinking up at the Spartans before him. "We are Imperial officers. We serve the Empire, not your backwater military force," he said, his tone haughty, his voice strained but proud. "You have no right to hold us. Our Emperor—"

"Your emperor means nothing to us right now," Reynolds cut him off, his voice hardening. "You're on our ship. In our space. Start talking, or things are going to get uncomfortable."

The man in the bed looked between the two UNSC soldiers, his lip curling slightly in disdain. "You think your so-called United Nations has any claim over us? We are citizens of the Empire. It is our home, our sanctuary. We serve a purpose far beyond anything your simple minds could comprehend. To capture us is an insult."

Val'Rain, who had been silent up until this point, stepped forward, his imposing form drawing immediate attention. He stood over the Imperial, his tattooed arms folded, the slight hum of his bio-synthetic lungs filling the silence.

"You talk about this Empire like it's some kind of utopia," Val'Rain said quietly, his voice low but resonant, tinged with a mechanical edge. "But all I see are survivors. You're running scared. If your Empire is so powerful, why were you the ones floating dead in space?"

The man glared up at Val'Rain, his face tightening in defiance. "We were ambushed by the Rebels, not defeated by them. The Empire will never fall. We are destined to rule. Your UNSC, your 'Spartans,' they are insignificant in the face of our might. We hold a higher purpose than to rot in your prison."

Reynolds gave a low chuckle. "Higher purpose, huh? That's rich coming from someone who was on a wrecked ship with barely any power left."

The Imperial man's gaze drifted over Val'Rain's body, his eyes narrowing as he examined the tattoos etched into his skin. His expression shifted from disdain to confusion, then curiosity. "What are those markings on your arms? They're not human… Are you some kind of alien?" The man's voice turned cold, almost clinical. "Is that what your kind does? You decorate yourselves with primitive symbols? I've seen what the Empire does to aliens. They are subjugated, just as you will be."

Val'Rain's eyes darkened, the casual arrogance in the man's words hitting a nerve. The soft hum of his augmented lungs grew a shade louder as he straightened, the muscles in his arms tensing beneath the tattoos.

The Imperial continued, oblivious to the danger building in Val'Rain's posture. "It's no wonder your so-called 'Spartans' are nothing more than failed attempts at superiority. Our Empire would have you bow before us, just like the countless species we've conquered and brought to heel."

Reynolds shifted, sensing the tension in the air. "Watch it," he muttered under his breath.

But it was too late.

In one fluid motion, Val'Rain snapped. His hand shot forward, seizing the Imperial officer by his shirt and yanking him up from the bed with such force that the man's feet left the ground. The other survivors in the room flinched, wide-eyed, as Val'Rain hoisted the man into the air effortlessly, his grip like iron.

The Imperial's breath caught in his throat, his hands flailing to grab at Val'Rain's arm, his legs dangling uselessly as he was held aloft. "W-wait!" the man gasped, his arrogance crumbling into fear. "I didn't—please, put me down!"

Val'Rain's eyes were cold, his voice dangerously calm. "You think your Empire makes you superior? You think you're untouchable? Let me remind you where you are." He held the man higher, his own 6'9" frame towering over the rest of the room. "You're on my ship. Your Empire isn't here to save you. You will answer our questions. Or I'll make sure you regret your silence."

The officer's bravado evaporated, replaced by sheer terror. His eyes darted wildly as he struggled to breathe under Val'Rain's crushing grip. "P-please," he stammered, his voice a mere whisper now. "I-I'll talk! Just don't… don't kill me… I'll tell you everything…"

Val'Rain held him there for a moment longer, the man's pitiful gasps filling the room, before releasing his grip. The officer dropped back onto the bed, crumpling onto the sheets in a heap, gasping for air and clutching at his throat.

Reynolds, who had watched the scene unfold in silence, crossed his arms and stepped closer. "Start talking," he said, his voice quieter now but still carrying the weight of his threat. "You've got one chance to explain why your ship was out there and why you think you're so much better than the UNSC."

The Imperial officer, trembling and clearly shaken, glanced up at Val'Rain's towering form, fear etched into every feature of his face. "The Empire… the Empire sent us to patrol the Outer Rim," he croaked. "We were attacked by Rebel forces—we never expected to be outgunned. But the Empire is vast… The Emperor's reach is endless. We serve him, we are loyal to him. If you let us go, we can… we can make sure you aren't… destroyed."

Val'Rain's expression remained cold. "Your loyalty means nothing to me. But you will give us everything you know. Or the next time, I won't let go."

The man swallowed hard, nodding frantically, still panting from the fear and shock of Val'Rain's overwhelming strength. "Y-yes, yes… I'll cooperate…"

Reynolds leaned back against the counter, watching the Imperial with contempt. "Welcome to the real world, pal. Your Emperor doesn't scare us."

The room settled into tense silence, the gravity of the situation weighing on both the interrogators and the survivors. The once-proud Imperial officer now looked small, fragile, and broken.

But as Val'Rain and Reynolds turned to leave, the man whispered, almost desperately, "You don't understand. The Empire is coming. And when they do... there will be no escape."

Val'Rain paused at the doorway, his back still turned to the survivors. He didn't respond—there was nothing more to say.

The Empire may be coming. But so was the UNSC.