Alice looked over her armor, polishing whatever she could of the excessive damage. The armor had turned from a pure white almost to the factory dark grey of Titanium alloy plating thanks to the plasma scoring. Several deep gashes and slashes permeated the armor's many pieces and the faint traces of damage to her RECON helmet were still there, sans the cracked visor from the shots she'd taken during her last hours of combat on Reach. She scrubbed the helmet itself, a heavy piece of titanium and electronics that now sat in her hand, with a brush, scraping off ash that had melded with the plate.
To know they'd won the war eased her conscience. Noble Six had died a worthwhile death, it seemed, if the Pillar of Autumn had survived with the Chief aboard, making it to Halo and finding that edge they'd needed to survive. She hummed, breathed in, out and returned to the matter at hand. Namely, she returned to patching up her armor as best as she could.
"Six," She heard someone call out. Turning back, she saw Carter.
"Sir," She nodded to him, turning back to the work at hand. The man sat himself down beside her and watched her continue her work, while she wondered what he'd want from her. They'd done their jobs and died. There wasn't much talk to be had between her or any of the rest of Noble, really. And that was fine by her, honestly. She'd only been with the team for a few weeks... Sighing, she stated calmly, "If you're here to inquire about something, sir, please, do. And if you're here to ask me if I'm okay, I am. Still processing this whole... Thing."
"I understand," He nodded, crossing his arms to his chest, "But you don't have to eat alone all the time. You're still part of the squad."
"Right..." She replied half-heartedly, looking over one of her vambraces and starting to clean it up. She said, "I'll see to it that I join more often, sir..."
"We'd appreciate it," He nodded, then stood up. Approaching the rest of his team, he let out a deep sigh, stating, "Still not progress on her. Anyone even bother to ask how she went?"
"We tried," Jorge replied, sad.
"All we got outta her was silence, boss," Emile added as he looked to Alice. The girl had set her helmet back onto the armor stand and had started loading up her magazines with ammunition. They'd gotten a fresh batch of ammunition to redistribute every time a Marine squad or a group of Spartans was recovered. Carter cared little about that one, with Kat behind him staring at her fellow Beta Company member with concern.
"I don't like it," Kat remarked, "Even when she first joined us, she wasn't this reclusive. Think it's... What..." She hesitated to use the dreaded acronym, but stared at Alice for a moment to see the thousand-yard stare that came with the thing, then weakly asked, "PTSD?" as she saw the Spartan stumble for a moment, a bullet slinking out from between her fingers and about to hit the floor. With precision and speed, Six grabbed the stray 7,62mm round out of the air, slid it into the mag and breathed a sigh of relief, her hands faintly trembling and eyes darting around the room, as if she was checking to make sure nobody saw that slip-up.
They had. And if Kat was right, all five members of Noble felt pits in their stomachs...
"If it is, that'd be the first Spartan I ever hear of with that issue," A man's voice replied to Kat's almost rhetorical question. They all turned to see whom it came from, to see Sergeant-Major Johnson smoking another one of his cigars. He joined the five central members of NOBLE and stared at the peripheric sixth from afar, watching as the girl moved with a rehearsed grace, loading bullet after bullet in a fresh magazine, setting it aside and starting up the process again on the next mag.
"Sergeant-Major?" Carter raised a brow, surprised at how brash the man was.
"No offense, sir, but I ain't ever heard of Spartans with Shell Shock walkin' the streets... Either I'm an insensitive son-of-a-bitch or you folks never caught the damn thing," He stated throughtfuly, then drew deeply out of the cigar and blew out a thick, acrid smoke parallel to where Kat was seated, but mistakenly close enough that the girl caught a whiff of it. He then sighed, a thinner smoke film appearing in front of him, "Though I guess I'm talkin' outta my ass. Much as we see y'all as invincible machines, you're still humans under all that..."
A short silence filled the room, a weight pressing down on every man and woman in the conversation...
"I'd say more like we're all walking cases of untreated shell-shock, sarge," Jorge broke it as he tried to humor the old man and lift their spirits a bit, though he'd caused a bit of distress for himself. If he, too, thought about it, the Spartans had all experienced some of the most traumatic things that war had to throw at them. It was why he'd never seen the difference between NOBLE and the others, or understood why all of them were so reclusive when it came to the other SPARTAN project members in the room. They had all fought in the same blood and mud.
Johnson snorted, pulling the cigar from between his lips and looking to Jorge. Taking his cap off, the Sergeant replied, "If that's the case, Jorge, I and my boys and girls are just about as knee-deep in the shit as the rest of you... Shit, I caught Jenkins staring into nothing just yesterday... Boy wasn't responsive in the slightest until Mendoza poked him in the ass with a fork."
"Still have the three extra tiny holes, Sergeant!" The Marine yelled from across the room. He was playing poker with the offending Latino Marine, who laughed. Both the Marines' eyes were almost sunken into their skulls, hollow smiles on their faces. Shit, Sarge knew he didn't look any better. He'd seen himself in the mirror, knew he looked like absolute crap at times.
"Could be a side effect of all of us waking up on Remnant," Jun expressed, watching the swift, certain motions Alice had now settled herself back into with loading her magazines. As all eyes fell on the bald Sniper who'd regressed to the biological age of sixteen, he clarified, "Think of it this way. Your brains know you went out one way or another, burned, scarred by plasma, a needle through the brainstem-sorry, Kat-so on, so forth... Your mind's still processing the fact that, one moment, you died and saw that mystical light at the end of the tunnel and the next, you're here..."
"Some of us didn't die, though," Carter replied to the sharpshooter, "Didn't you say you went on to form the SPARTAN-IV program and, with it, the SPARTAN Branch of the military? And it's been some weeks since we woke up..."
"Sir," Jun nodded, "I still don't know how I woke up here either, but I'm... I guess you can say I'm not as bad with my own issues as some of the others, but..."
Kat felt the back of her head with her human left hand. She knew the exact spot where that Needle had punched through the plate of her helmet and knew the exact exit point. She still felt the phantom pain in her eye left eye and worked to stow it, blinking repeatedly. She sighed, then added, "Yeah... We get it, Jun... Still, what's got her so affected, then? We all went out one way or another..."
"I left Six alone in a part of Viery that had no other troops of ours after the Autumn departed," Emile replied, crossing his arms to his chest, "I know I heard Gauntlet Team went out in combat just downwind from the Break Yards... Before their com system went dead and I got a sword through my back for my troubles," and he, too, felt the exit wound of the twin plasma blades of the Covenant Energy Sword. His sternum had been shattered by the impact and his skin burned. He still felt the burning heat of the weapon searing his flesh.
"... She must've found their bodies while fighting. Some of the extra ammo pouches she has were stripped off a COMMANDO chest," Carter added, his voice a low whisper.
"Shit... She died alone, among the corpses, huh...?" Johnson sighed, that thin veneer of comedy he'd put up to cope with his own issues dropping as he stared at the young woman with white hair and blue eyes. There was the faintest trace of fear in her movements as she finished the last magazine, setting it in one of the pouches on her belt and standing up. She walked to the bathroom, avoiding the glances of the other Spartans in the room.
"Helluva way to die..." Recited Emile, then he breathed out and said, "Someone oughta go talk to her. Ain't gonna be me, though, I'd just make things worse."
"I could," Kat replied, "We were in the same company..."
"Don't know..." Carter sighed, "Maybe I should try again. I'm the CO of NOBLE after all..."
"I'd suggest you kids leave her be for a bit," Johnson remarked, sticking the butt of the cigar between his lips again and dragging deep. He looked between all of them. Carter wanted to ask why, but Johnson was quick to reply, "She ain't in no mood to talk right now... And I can understand her, at least a bit. I know how shit it feels to be among the last survivors of a fight... She'll either open up to you, or you'll have to drag her ass out of that wall she's building around herself, but eitherway, talking to her right now ain't gonna help. Not yet, anyway."
The five members of Noble before him nodded reluctantly, then all watched as the Chief himself exited the room. Johnson offered the team a mock salute, then approached the Chief, giving the Spartan out of armor a wide grin of pearly white teeth. John nodded to him, then asked, "Everything going well, Sergeant?" to which the man nodded, taking the cigar from between his lips and setting it in a full ash tray.
"We're all decent here, Chief. What's the word, we going for that Paintball game later this week?" He inquired.
"We are," John nodded, "Planning on picking sides?"
"Frankly, I think I and the boys are going on the unaugmented humans' side... Ya know, helping shape the two Hunter kid teams into something that can at least somewhat stand up to you folks... Otherwise it'd be no fun. Hell, Chief, it'd be a curbstomp and nobody likes seeing those," The Sergeant replied. John nodded approvingly to the man, bumping the man's shoulder with his elbow. Johnson's expression quickly, but easily switched to a concerned one as he asked, "Everything good on your side, Chief?"
"I'm at one hundred percent," He replied calmly, "You?"
"We're good, Chief, like I said. As good as can be after we got revived from the dead..." He offered. John scanned the room at his old friend's words, seeing the several dozen members of the growing, company-sized element of Marines, Spartans and even some Air Force personnel if Captain Rawley and her co-pilot felt as if they were part of this ad-hoc force.
The house was getting relatively crowded, too, with Marines, male and female and Spartans having joined up in the same living space, so many of them that the bunks and the sleeping bags were spilling out of the assigned rooms. Chief didn't mind sharing none, but he probably should have gone to the Headmaster to ask for something bigger to accommodate them all.
But it wasn't the growing size of the force that worried John. He noticed the signs of combat fatigue among all men and women of the force. Carol herself, now sat and playing cards with some of the Marines from Autumn's complement by the kitchen, stared at her cards with an empty gaze. Even behind the smile she wore, John knew that there was trauma. He'd seen it before. In Locklear, in other Marines... Jenkins especially, the poor bastard.
He looked at himself in the hallway mirror and saw that he, himself, had the sunken eyes of a tired young man. Narrowing his lips, he let out a sigh. Admittedly, all of the people currently in the room with him should have been dead and gone. Physically, they'd been all killed, vaporized, shot, blasted apart or outright went missing in space in some cases. Being revived on an alien world with no explanation whatsoever would have an effect on anyone and everyone involved in this kind of situation.
"Chief?" Johnson asked, "You good? For real."
"I'm... Fine, Sergeant-Major," The man replied, arranging the necktie of his Beacon uniform. "I'm just realizing now the situation we're all in... I vaporized myself to save the Earth... I died. So did Cortana..."
"All of us here went out in some form or another... Save maybe for NOBLE's sniper, Jun. Kid apparently went on to make the S-IV program a thing..." Johnson nodded, "And we're here now."
"Yeah," John breathed, finally realizing after over a month or so of staying on Remnant that he had, in fact, died. And for real, this time, not just under the markings of the UNSC's definition of 'KIA'. He had, admittedly, been written up as 'MIA' for the UNSC, though, so... Shaking his head to quickly clear his thoughts, he steeled himself and said, "We'll be fine... We have to be. We have a new mission."
"Chief," Johnson's voice was rough, hard, but compassionate. The two men stared into one-another's eyes for one moment, then Johnson sighed, "We're all in deep shit right now. And we're figuring said deep shit out. You shouldn't be focusing on the mission alone if ya wanna be fine... Take a break, chat up your Spartans, hell, come join me and the lads for a drink out in the town once in a while... Anything to get our shit together and try to either solve or bury this revival thing."
Chief started to counter him, but sighed and said, "I'll take it under consideration... We're still taking time off from our job to go to that paintball game..."
"And you could'a refused that one, but ya didn't," Johnson smirked, "Hell of it is, Chief? I think ya want a break."
Truthfully, the Chief had always been active and on the move. He didn't know the meaning of a proper 'break' beyond the lulls in combat and the cold embrace of a Cryosleep casket. He hummed, then looked to Johnson and said, "We'll see... Take care, Sergeant. I have to go talk to the Headmaster about providing us with a better sleeping arrangement... Too many of us."
"Roger that, Chief," The man replied, giving the man a quick salute and watching him leave. The man sighed, crossing his arms to his chest, then joined his Marines in a game of cards. May as well have, seeing as he didn't really have anything better to do while he waited for whatever their next mission was. It'd also help get his mind off the shit that'd been floating around about revival and whatnot.
Kelly, meanwhile, was left alone as one of the only members of BLUE Team in the 'base of operations'. She sat herself down next to Grace as the girl was watching the news, then asked, "Where'd you put the C12?" to which the girl turned to her with a dumbfound look on her face. Kelly raised a brow, then asked, "Seriously, Grace. Where's the plastic explosive?"
"... I put it in the storage area...?" She replied as if Kelly was supposed to have known that.
Right, John and Cortana had set up one of the back rooms just below the stairs as storage for equipment, like firearms. Ammunition was stowed in the room next to it, though, Kelly realized, then stated, "I'm not sure how safe it is to have all our C12 in a single room, to be honest..." before looking to see Sam leaving their bunkroom, wearing his armor still. She looked to him, then asked "Sam, shouldn't you change your clothes?"
"Eh," He shrugged, "I was just gonna go see how Fred is doing before I switched out and prepped for bed."
"Okay. Take care," Kelly replied, then leaned back against the couch, letting out a sigh.
"So... How'd you, Fred and Linda go?" Grace raised a brow.
"... Would you believe me when I tell you I don't really remember?" Kelly somehow seemed distraught by that revelation. Grace chose not to press the matter further for both their sakes. It was hard enough, knowing you'd gone and died in the line of duty, only to be revived to some new world. Grace had died by the shots of several Brute grenade launchers. It hadn't been a pretty death, but she'd ironically gone out to the same things she loves so much:Explosives.
She sighed, leaned forward and picked up her drink from the coffee table...
Fred had searched high and low throughout Beacon to the dimming light of a setting sun. He had finally found her inside the library, perusing information on one of the several terminals linked to the planetary internet. There were black bags under her eyes, so he saw from where he was. He approached her and, for the young, tired girl, it must've seemed odd to see a man clad in full armor approaching.
Her gaze was tense, tired, blurry. She seemed like she could barely see him as he marched toward her and she had black bags growing under her eyes. Fred should've expected as much. From the things he'd overheard the R, W and Y of team RWBY say about her, she was overworking herself. While Fred would generally have approved such a demeanor from one of his own Spartans because he knew they didn't need as much sleep, a human... Or a Faunus, as it seemed to be the case with miss Belladonna... Was ill-suited to waste so much of their rest time on a single goal.
"Miss Belladonna," He stated as he approached her.
"Oh..." She paused, then squinted at him and asked, "Lieutenant Frederick Ellsworth, right?"
"It's just Fred," He replied somewhat reluctantly. Blake nodded, then turned back to her work as the Spartan sat himself down in front of her. He had to give it to her, she was laser-focused. Especially with reading the articles she was currently reading, considering the fact that those were pretty important news regarding White Fang actions across all four kingdoms and how they seemed to be gathering resources. He spoke again, "I take it you're investigating our friends in the White Fang?"
"Yes," She replied, focused, "They've been amassing equipment and Dust for something in Vale... I wanna know why..."
"And you think a loose series of articles online can provide the answer?" He raised a brow at her. She shrugged as if saying 'perhaps'. He didn't know why Blake was so focused on what she was doing, but he understood the core idea of concentrating on one's mission. He offered to her, "You do know it'd be easier for both you and your team if you worked together, right? And you can ask us to help as well."
Blake sighed, slightly annoyed, then responded to Fred, "While I appreciate the offer... There's really nobody else that can do this."
"Taking into account I and the others took down a White Fang base not too long ago and helped you take down that Paladin, I'd say we can do it pretty well ourselves," The man shot back. Blake scoffed, then returned her gaze to the files she had opened on the computer. He hummed, then added, "Why do you want to do this alone, anyway? I'd expect you would get your team's help, at the very least."
"They don't get why I'm doing this..." Blake replied weakly.
"So, explain it to them," Fred countered, "It's that easy."
Blake sighed. She swore, if Ruby and Yang dragged one of the Chief's men into this thing. She looked to him, then crossed her arms and said, "I have my own reasons to try and deal with the White Fang right now... I think that's all you need to know, with all due respect, Fred... You and your folks don't need to get involved in it any more than you already have."
"We still are getting involved. The White Fang painted a target on its back for being what it is:A group of insurgents looking to undermine the truth. I know they were once the hope of the Faunus for equality, but they've clearly changed their MO," Fred explained, watching as the girl seemed to stare right through him for a moment, instead of at him. She must've been exhausted.
"Right... Why are you going after the Fang, then?"
"Let's just say it's because of a few friends we made on the way to Vale," The man replied. He then said, "I told you my reason. So why don't you tell me yours?" and smirked at Blake. Or at least she thought it was a smirk. It was hard to tell with Spartans. Every one of them beyond Sam and Kurt was an enigma, a steel-faced statue whenever one would talk to them... Well, most of the time, anyway.
Blake snorted. She'd fallen into that one of her own accord. She then said, "I have a few friends in it that are... Well, I feel like they're in danger. I wanna warn them about it..." She hesitated. Fred could tell. She was hiding something, even as she added the last bit of her supposed 'motive', "Y'know, it's just a matter of keeping familiar people safe and whatnot..."
"It's definitely not because you're a Faunus, then...?" The man quirked a brow up at her.
Blake went pale. She mouthed, "How...?"
Fred pointed up at his own head and said, "Your bow twitches at times."
Blake's cheeks turned a reddish hue as she placed her hands over the top of her head, flattening the bow. She started, disbelieving, "They twitch so rarely and move so little that I thought..." before noticing the Spartan staring at her as if it was daytime. Night had fallen already and the last of the Library's patrons began dispersing. He stood to his feet, extended a hand to the girl and waited.
She gingerly took it and stood to her feet with his help. He spoke, "The Chief saw it first, a while ago. Then, I and just about every Spartan did, too... We're used to utilizing very fine movements like that in our operations, so noticing them isn't hard. It was confirming it that was strangely harder than normal, because, as you said, they twitched so rarely... And only when you seemed to relax."
"Huh..." Blake hummed, "Noted... I won't relax henceforth..."
Fred snorted, "That won't go. For your teammates, or for us, Miss Belladonna."
"... I know..." She placed a palm over her face. A sigh of dejection later and she said, "Blake."
"Pardon?" Fred raised a brow.
"It's just Blake, Fred..." She said, looking to him and offering a half-hearted smile, "Miss Belladonna's my mother."
"Noted," He replied as they started the trip back to Blake's dorm. As they marched into the dark, open courtyard, Blake saw the man's eyes immediately adjusting to the dark. Several light posts flickered on ahead as the two took a turn to the right from the cathedral-sized library. He broke the silence that had settled between them once more, stating, "You still have to tell me why you are looking into the White Fang's activities. I told you why we are. I can also speculate, seeing as you're Faunus, but I want the cat to be out of the bag because of you, not me."
Blake breathed in, out, then sighed. Maybe if her team accepted her after the reveal and her running away, the Spartans would take it better if she told them her association. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like Fred, at the very least, would understand out of the whole lot. Him, Sam and maybe Kurt. All three of them seemed pragmatic and far more open to the world than the rest of the Spartan platoon.
To hell with it... "Promise me you won't try to choke me to death here," She stated.
"I won't," He replied.
"... I was once White Fang."
"Ah... I figured that was the case," He nodded, shocking Blake with how normally he was taking it. He raised a brow and inquired, "I assume you left after they started getting their terrorist tendencies?"
"... Yeah..." She nodded, shocked. She narrowed her eyes as she looked right at him, then stated, "... You're taking this surprisingly well for what I assume is a counter-terrorism unit member clad in full plate power armor... With some form of gene-tampering?"
He stopped for a moment, surprised, looking to her and raising a brow. She pointed at her own eyes and said, "They're adjusting to light the same way the eyes of a Faunus do. I'm pretty sure you have night vision like us, as well," before humming and narrowing her lips. She snorted, "Oh, wow, I am tired... I noticed the eye thing but not the pun you made until now... 'Cat out of the bag'? Really? Have you been hanging around with Yang?"
Fred snorted, "No. And believe it or not, I didn't register it until you mentioned it, either."
"That's fair enough," She chuckled, "... I'm still going to continue my search."
"I know. But you can use the assets we have if you want. You don't have to do anything alone," He offered. Blake wanted to reply, but the two saw Linda and Pyrrha walking out of the amphitheater, both of them laughing and wearing a few more bruises than they'd have expected. Fred raised a brow, then said, "Color me impressed... Linda doesn't much laugh."
"She and Pyrrha must've sparred," Blake noted, seeing some of the marks and bruises on the hoplite. She then stated, "And Pyrrha looks like she got slapped around..."
"She got a few good licks on Linda," The man replied, pointing to a nice purple bruise on Linda's cheek. The Sniper and the Hoplite both noticed the Lieutenant and the Catgirl and Linda waved. Fred waved back, then spun his hand around, clenched his fingers into a fist and pumped his elbow down. Linda nodded and she and Pyrrha formed up with the two.
"Blake," Pyrrha gasped, "Dear god, you look haggard!"
"I'm a bit tired, Pyr..." Blake replied calmly, "Nothing I can't handle."
"She's admittedly not as bad as she could be," Fred added, then turned to Linda and asked, "How'd the spar go?"
"Pyrrha's a good fighter. She got a few hits in on me. Lucky for her I only had my Aura and not my shields," Linda offered.
"You did very well yourself, Linda. I'm sure I have more bruises than you do at this point," Pyrrha smiled, then she looked to Fred and stated, "I'm going to presume you met with Blake to convince her to get a proper night's rest?" before getting a nod from Fred. Pyrrha smiled, "Good. Blake's a good student and a great friend, but she can be a bit... Too much... At times... Especially regarding her interests. Why, there was that one time in the mess when they were serving Tuna-" and she cut off as Blake yelped, her cheeks growing a tinge redder at Pyrrha's little attempt at telling that particular story. Not to mention the amber-eyed glare.
The redhead chuckled, "Never mind..."
"Right..." Blake breathed out a sigh of relief, then said "We should probably take our leave now. Our dorms are that way," she tilted her head to the left at the cross-intersection.
Fred nodded, "Get some rest, Blake. We'll get on the case of the White Fang tomorrow. All of us."
"Aye, sir," She gave the man a mock salute, then said, "C'mon, Pyr... Your team's gonna be asking questions about the bruises..." And it was Pyrrha's turn to yelp as Blake dragged her away. Linda and Fred watched them leave, the latter with a thoughtful expression. Linda looked to her ASL. With a shrug, Fred showed her to follow him back to their base of operations.