Allie rubbed the dark circles under her eyes as she watched Cell finishing checking the first episode of the documentary, arms crossed and silent. God, the silence was suffocating. When Allie first took this deal, she was sniffing views and chance to monopolise on Earth's biggest media hit. Now that she was going through with it, learning what she now know?
… It was… it was a lot of pressure. I lot of responsibilities on her hand. Someone with less passion for science and history of humanity would have simply played up the more entertaining dopamine-rush centred bits of information. Allie blinked. Actually, scratched that. They wouldn't have even tried this at all- most likely called it quits and dumped this and their responsibility to another naive reporter or journalist, let them handle this monumental shit show we call the secrets of the galaxy.
'YOUR DESTRUCTION IS THE WILL OF THE GODS, AND WE ARE THEIR INSTRUMENT'
Every time Allie let her eyes closed just a little longer, the booming voices came back, thundering inside her skull. The very first message transmitted from the Covenants to humanity. And the subsequent attacks. Any time Allie saw a flash in the dark- either from a lamp or a computer screen, she swore she could see the footage of the plasma shots and carrier ships appearing from thin air, raining down that horrible pillar of light that glassed the surface of the planets.
The amount of hormone blockers and medication she had bought and shoved down her throat this week, she had always thought each night that she would call it quits. Run away somewhere, maybe have a chip slotted into her socket to erase the memories of ever learning about what happened beyond Earth.
But she couldn't. Every information, every interview that Cell had given her, it sucked her in and brought her back to her seat. Like a massive gravitational force, it just… it just dragged her back, and never let go until she couldn't handle it for the next hour. And she knew why, it was because this wasn't just some history between Aliens, or some… discovery of ancient human civilisation and conspiracy theories. This was what was going on in Space, just outside of Earth. To Allie, finding out about the UNSC and Covenants wasn't just learning ancient history. It was realising that she was staying in her room enjoying a good read and having music turned up on full blast, not knowing that someone broke into her house was broken in slaughtered her family until it was the next morning.
But how could she have known this? No one on Earth did until New Mombasa was attacked. UNSC tried to hide it all, and maybe their decision was the better choice out of hundred possibility.
But who thinks like that? Ignorance is bliss only when you don't see the knife gleaming under your neck. If it is, then ignoring it is just a gonk move. They were… She could have died. They all could have died, if UNSC gave up after Reach was destroyed.
But UNSC didn't, and now here we were. Back to drowning in ignorance and hedonism. As a journalist - as someone meant to grab everyone's attention and slam their eyes on the next biggest news, Allie's drive told her making this documentary was the least she could do. For UNSC, for Night City. For everyone. She took it up, she took the deal like a famished hyena. And now it was on her plate- and she had to eat everything.
Now here she was, fiddling with the slight hole in her pants and flinching, every time she closed her eyes just a little longer than she can take, or when the audio of the documentary switched to sounds of gun fire and plasma torpedo.
Allie really wanted to know how UNSC had even managed to survive through this. It almost looked like a sheer miracle for them to even thrive.
Especially after the fall of Reach.
Oh god. Allie almost whimpered at the memory. Cell's footages had highlighted importance of Reach to Humanity. Essentially the second Earth and the central headquarters of UNSC. Other Colony planets fell, but at least the Covenants didn't touch Reach…
… Until they did. So many people. So many Spartans, dead. Armours glassed. Final transmissions sent to the UNSC Carriers before the sudden cut offs. The silence after and the dreadful implications described everything and their final moments.
Allie didn't know that a footage can be grotesque with only just giant alien vehicles and plasma bolts. But these footages were just that. Allie felt her stomach churn and threaten to empty itself there and then whenever the journalist watched the final moments of the planets, the cities, and vehicles and ships. Just… rubble, crashing to the ground, cities drowned in light before the camera feed was destroyed- before it showed the entire planets started to turn bright red and surface melting from the plasma lasers of the dozen Covenant Carrier-class aircrafts. Continents crumbling like sand under a magnifying glass held by a cruel child, the sounds of the plasma sizzling a city sounding like screams of civilisation until the outer space silenced them before they could reach another star.
The fact that the Covenant's intentions were nothing more than pure, unbridled meaningless hate born from an overzealous faith, fostered by greed for power and to stay on the throne…
The dread she felt from the sheer sights, she remembered how her breath hitched, hiccuping as her face cringe and fingers trembled while wiping away the tears that ruined her makeup. Smudging the mascara further. She thought she had her empathy for humanity completely drained by Night City. Yet here she was, stopping the video and taking half an hour of toilet break as she sobbed to herself in an empty bathroom whenever she witnessed a once beautiful planet be violated by sheer unimaginable forces of heat. Ruined remains showing scars burning bright red and orange, stretched across the vast surface like a molten tombstones of those too many to be individually remembered. She washed away all of her mascara on her first toilet break- rest of her trips were just meant to wash the tears and bit of snot with the tap water. Every war the UNSC lost against the Covenant an inch closer to realising just how close Earth itself was from becoming another scorched wasteland, bones and flesh of billions mixing in with the super heated soil until the stars forgot that we existed once, too.
To Allie, it was almost inhumane to watch Cell go through his own worst nightmare like this without even reacting.
… Then again, maybe it's because he lived through it. Maybe he was already completely drained from the pain felt. Maybe he really is reacting to it under that helmet of his. Allie couldn't tell, but the fact that her gaze quietly fell to the ground told her she was too scared to prod further.
Some journalist she is. Allie berated herself in silence with a grim sneer on her face.
Cell shifted in his seat as he finished viewing the finalised product. Turning his head to Allie as the credits rolled.
"First off," Cell said when he opened his mouth for the first time since he had walked into this room. "You need to get some sleep. Unwind, decompress. I was trying to focus on the documentary but you keep shifting and flinching so much back there, my attention kinda got disrupted seeing you squirm in your seat."
Allie heard the chuckle echo out from Cell's helmet and followed him with an awkward and nervous giggle of her own.
"Now, the documentary?" Cell continued, returning to a more professional tone. He pointed at the screen before he opened the rest of his fingers into a palm and gestured to the screen. "All fine. All the important info is in here, up to the last part of the Human-Covenant War. However- are you absolutely sure that you want to just end it there? I know that people love a cliffhanger, if they do it right, but… really?"
Allie blinked several times before she nodded. She was expecting this question from Cell and quickly opened a file in the shard she plugged into her neuralware socket. With the current mental state she was in, she wouldn't be able to talk a sentence or two before devolving into a blubbering mess. She needed safety rails, she needed guidelines - she needed some backbone that the prepared script would provide.
"I understand your perspective, sir. But the amount of information that you have provided me can't just be crunched down into a single episode." Allie spoke out loud, trying hard to focus on the script that popped up in her optics and NOT the four red blaring optics of Cell's helmet. "I know you agreed to a 2-episode documentary deal with us, and the… the amount of… uhh… um…" The sleep deprivation was creeping up, and the effects of the medications were wearing off. The fact that the only source of illumination in this room was the light coming off the monitor didn't help her condition either. It was getting hard for her to focus, the notes were starting look awfully blurry. Weird- the neuralware meant that it didn't rely on her sight?
She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed a little, she scrunched her eyes shut, and the force of it had specks of light flash out, a little bit of sparks. Each one reminded her of the Covenant Plasma weaponry, she really needed a break after this. She looked back at Cell to resume her script.
"The… the amount of information and content in the near end of the war meant that it would have to have a time on its own. I-I don't want to assume much, but the advice I was given to several colleagues and superiors regarding content distribution left me to decide that I would have to handle the extensive records of Master Chief's contribution as episode 2 and-"
Cell raised his hand up, and Allie stopped talking. She tried her best, but in the end of the day even she knew that all it mattered was the words of Megacorp hiring DMS to film their story. If Cell wanted to have the entirety of the Covenant war in the first episode, then… well… Allie would have to crunch the time into it, and hope that it was still what Cell wanted.
"I was actually thinking about finding a deal to release a film about bits of the war. I didn't actually think about it too deeply at the moment, got a lot of projects that I have to finish or monitor." Cell finally spoke.
Allie perked up, the news granting her enough ignorance to look straight into Cell's spectral nodes. Cell swivelled around his chair a few times, before he pointed both of his index fingers at Allie.
"You." He continued, "Are the only Night City Native to know the full story about UNSC and their history. You're also employed under a megacorp specialising in media. What do you think?"
Can we make it a movie?
Allie blinked. This was not a response she prepared for in her script. She coughed into her hand and shifted in her seat.
"I… well, we wouldn't be able to make a single movie out of it, either. The whole… details of the last portion of the war, especially the process of it, we wouldn't… it wouldn't fit in 2 hours."
"Then 3 hours and 30 minutes each, make it into a trilogy. We film the full 10 hours and 30 minutes, and release each one at a 3 month interval. Would it work that way?"
Allie was rolling her eyes around in every direction, deep in thought. Calculating all the possibilities, difficulty, and needed funding to make something like that.
Not to mention having to convince her higher ups just how successful this would be if they had a product like this with DMS label plastered on it. Though Allie doubted she needed much effort in convincing her superiors that this was a potential goldmine of revenues, views, and platform. The Puma Squad series was popular, sure, and it allowed DMS to compete with those like N54 and WNS. But that was up until 2045. Now, most of the Puma Squad operatives retired or moved to a different department of Danger Gal. And while the Puma Squad fan-base was still solid for the past 30 years, that didn't mean that the lingering influence of Puma Squad was still strong enough to keep DMS contending against WNS' Watson Whore and other shows.
DMS was swindling in its position, and it needed a new franchise. This was it.
But to gather the actors for this… especially the Covenant side-
"If you're thinking about the man-power needed, you don't need to." Cell interjected, pulling out his compad from the back of his armour. "We can use AI and holograms to recreate most of the environments and enemies. The files and videos we have are extensive, and any holes we have, we have the data logs and terminals to fill it in for the recreation."
Cell looked up.
"We've got nearly everything prepared, and all we need to know is… will this work?"
Allie cut down the unnecessary part of her calculation, and soon found herself rapidly nodding her head.
"It'll work. It'll work for sure." Allie replied.
Cell nodded as he placed the compad back in his MJOLNIR suit.
"Good. Then we can postpone the second episode of the Documentary. Release the first part with the announcement of the movie, then I can tell your higher up that I'd like to extend our contract to include the film. With you, specifically."
"Why…me?"
"Because you're the only one here that's seen the files to this extent, and I like the way your eyes shined when you learnt the history and records of lost technology."
"… You want me on a short leash. Because it's easier to manage information that way."
Cell shrugged his shoulders.
"Not necessarily… but that's a good suggestion too."
As Cell stood up from the chair, dusting his palms together, the door opened as a young lady popped her upper half into the room and look around.
Allie recognised the hairstyle and brown eyes. That was Meiko Arasaka Sanderson, Michiko Sanderson and Marc Sanderson's daughter; and an executive of Danger Gal.
Allie blinked, and Meiko blinked in response before the young lady of Arasaka descent looked to Cell and waved her hand, smile softly etching on her lips.
"Hello, I thought this was Jimmy's office? We were trying to talk about finalising the deal with… you know. Puma Squad?" Meiko asked, the staccato tone -sharp, bubbly, and deliberate- echoing in the dark room. A trait Meiko inherited along with her face and personality from her mother.
Allie pointed to the door before using her finger and hand to gesture. "Oh! Uuhh, Jimmy's office was moved to another location. He's now on the door at the end of the hallway, to the right."
Meiko smiled more at Allie as she brought her hands into a thumbs up.
"Got it, thank you~!" Said in with constrained energy. But Meiko didn't leave immediately. The Danger Gal Exec took a solid moment or two to stare at the Reds and Blues CEO. Almost observing him, analysing him. For clues or otherwise. Allie tried that when she first met Cell, and almost got nothing out of it.
Maybe Meiko could. There was a difference between how a detective saw a person and how a journalist saw a person. When Cell's head moved just a little, Meiko waved at the Spartan before disappearing behind the closing door. Cell didn't take much importance of it, and instead looked to Allie.
"So, you up for being in charge of a movie, or no?"
Allie nodded. Rubbing her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll do it. You got a name for the movie, or do I have to pitch that to you as well?"
Cell tapped his fingers on top of the computer desk, before he lightly wrapped his knuckles on the surface in a conclusion.
Halo was the forerunner artefact that made the Covenant and broke humanity. But it was also the thing that broke the Covenant and strengthened humanity's vicious courage.
In this war, Halo was the Key.
Halo was everything.
"I've got it. Halo: Combat Evolved."
-oOo-
David and Gloria didn't speak to each other in the car. Maybe it was because last time they were talking inside a car, they got in a crossfire in a gang assault and nearly lost their lives. Or maybe it was because they had an unresolved argument yesterday. Or maybe it was because Gloria was on her way to sell chrome to Maine for the last time, and despite her protest David decided to go with her.
Whatever it was, the air in the car was tense and thick.
"… Hey, mom."
"… Mijo?"
"So I get that you've been selling chrome to an Edgerunner. And that actually explains were you got all that eddies in the second account. But… if I ever became a 'Saka suit like you first wanted, don't you think I would've been zeroed by that edgerunner while I worked? You know, flat-lined by the very chrome you sold?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Dee."
David respected his mother's request, looking out to the side of the car instead. He wasn't feeling to happy either, when Washington broke the news to him. Couldn't be a Spartan yet, couldn't be an ODST yet either. Just… be a kid, the Spartan Commander said. Yeah, yeah. David thought to himself as he shot air out through his pursed lips. What if he couldn't wait? What if he was a kid all through his 17 years of life and didn't want to wait more?
David looked through the back mirror of the car, seeing Killshot's face and Noble 6's shoulder in the back seat. David sighed. He knew what Killshot would say if he heard David talk like that. Killshot would call David impatient, and that Spartan branch didn't need impatience.
Noble 6 glanced at Killshot, with Killshot returning the gaze back to the Spartan III. Washington had told Killshot what David tried to do last night, and Killshot gave Leon a dirty look and a sneer for it this morning. Leon only returned a grin and a chuckle.
Now Killshot, due to him being the one to bring the Martinez the bad news and also the one to bring him to the Graveyard, was now tasked with being David's ward. Killshot wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it, and there were plenty of Spartan IIs keen on taking the role if Killshot didn't want to.
But David would rather have Killshot guide him, so Killshot complied.
Noble 6 was just here because Killshot asked him for assist, and Noble 6 did not have anything better to do.
The car went past the city centre. Compared to Martinez's previous vehicle- The Thorton Galena G240- their new car, the Diamond Back, fit with the rest of the prestigious side of the city much more naturally.
David watched as the silver monument of the Arbee Tower disappear from view, but influence the Reds and Blues had on the city were still visible. Products of Reds and Blues, ranging from medications to food, were seen on buildings and billboards. The commercials were subdued and subtle, modest even. Save for the fact that most of the ad model was Spartan Badger, wearing a recon helmet and coloured red with yellow highlights. That actually made the advertisements stand out among the graphic, hyper-violent and sexualised ads of other corporations. The Darters that dashed through the skies were also heavy reminder that Reds and Blues have gotten their galactic claws dug deep on Night City's soil.
Soon, clean buildings were replaced by dusty air and dry dirt of Heywood, empty buildings, uncompleted metal scaffolds and broken down factories were prominent.
Which made it the perfect place for black market deals even if it was done right next to a Megacorp- turf.
David watched as their car slowed down in front of a purple Black Mamba (the kid thought the word to be almost funny, two different colours in one description and all), as Gloria turned to the sides compartment, opened the hatch and brought out the military-grade Sandevistan.
Gloria opened the door first and walked out.
"Stay in the car." Gloria said, not really specifying exactly who she was telling that to, but it was clear to everyone else that it was to the kid that would've jumped out with her if she didn't say anything.
The door of the purple Black Mamba opened soon after, and David's eyes widened when he recognised the Solo that got out with a smile. The big burly body shape and the red scarf, coupled with that sunglasses.
That was the edgerunner that he saw last night, the one that came to pick up Lucy- that was Maine.
"Hey, Gloria! Heard about what happened. Sorry to hear things are rough for you."
Gloria grimaced, but nodded.
"Well, what can I do? It's Night City."
Main nodded along with Gloria at her remark. He was an edgerunner, which meant that he was freer than most. But Gloria wasn't. She was an EMT, a contact for salvaged chrome.
But to Maine, Gloria was still part of his Edgerunner crew. Even if she wasn't in the front lines. And Maine always took care of his crew.
"Here." Maine spoke when Gloria passed the Sandevistan into his large metallic palm - in turn dropping a couple of shards into Gloria's hand. Gloria looked at the shards, before looking back up at Maine.
"You already paid up front." Gloria said.
"Well," Maine replied as he looked at the clear part of the sealed plastic bag, observing the Sandevistan within. "Thought you could use some extra eddies for you and your kid. Besides, it's a military-grade Sandevistan. You can't get this shit so easily even if you have the creds for it. Consider it a bonus for making sure it safely got into my hands."
Gloria lifted her gaze up to Maine's face, who grinned at the Santo Domingo EMT when he noticed the eyes on him. But his gaze soon moved to the Diamond back, looking at the kid sitting in the shotgun seat. His grin turned into a boastful chuckle once he recognised the face of David Martinez.
"Holy shit, he's your kid?!" Maine said, pointing to the passenger seat. Gloria turned around, seeing David notice Maine pointing at him and awkwardly shifting in his seat.
"I… yeah. Have you seen him before?" Gloria asked, almost defensively, while Maine chuckled.
"Yeah, saw him yesterday! Saved one of my crews when the Maelstrom decided to hit the metro!" Maine replied honestly, with a smile etched wide on his lips. Gloria nodded at that. She saw it come up live on the news, with every news channel focusing their cameras on Leon effortlessly carving the metal implants out of the Maelstrom Gangoons' flesh and bones with Maelstrom's own combat knives. Heard about it David's first hand experience in the situation once he was dropped back home by the very man that had filleted the Maelstroms like fish.
Her heart had sunk at the news, and was just happy with her mijo surviving without a scratch. Gloria gripped her forehead and slightly groaned. Fate was not kind to Gloria, or to Gloria's intentions.
"Look, you've got a talented brat. Not a lot of kids his age got the balls to help a netrunner in a middle of a shoot out." To Maine, this was a genuine complement. But that's not what Gloria wanted to hear about her son. Especially from an edgerunner. Why? Because it told her that everything she was working and fighting for was a pointless struggle against an inevitable. That in the end, David was going to run into explosions and gunfire. And Gloria didn't want to acknowledge that.
Maine's eyes behind his sunglasses widened when he noticed the two Spartans in the back seat. While the Solo couldn't see the face of Noble 6, he definitely recognised Killshot's.
"Why uh…" Maine spoke as he pointed to Killshot. "Why you got them Baba Yagas in the back?"
"They're just here to take care of my boy." Gloria replied, pocketing the shard.
"Your boy?"
"I got a job as an EMT for Arbee's hospital. Project Caduceus, pays well. But that also means this is gonna be my last supply. Can't really find a way to salvage chrome now, and honestly? The eddies the Arbee gives me means that I don't even need to."
Maine lightly juggled the Sandevistan in his hands before he stashed it in his coat. He was about to ask if that means each family gets a Spartan for a bodyguard, until he remembered the call he had from Reilly.
"Wait, those boogeyman here because of your husband?" Maine spoke, lightly lowering his sunglasses to look at Gloria in the eye and confirm his intuition. Gloria rolled her eyes and sighed.
"It's family business, but I guess that eyes of yours found out the general gist of it."
"Well, guess I did. Means that your kid's special."
"But not in the way I wanted Dee to be."
Gloria was about to turn back to her car, when she saw the windows of her back seat rolling down. Killshot's arms sprouted out from the open window and grasped the roof of the car. Before the Sniper's head popped out and stared at Maine.
"Hey." Killshot spoke. The Spartan was watching the whole deal go down and seal up. And he was thinking. He had to, just this morning his and several other Fireteams were given the next step to Project: FREELANCER.
Washington needed a smoother integration into Night City's edgerunner world for steady black ops, which would be difficult now that the existence of Spartans were fully brought into Earth's light. A workaround that Washington came up with was to get the Spartan Fireteams posing as mercs and get into pre-existing edgerunner crews.
"Gloria." Gloria turned to look at Killshot. "This mercenary. Do you trust him?"
"He's the only one I supply the chromes to. Used to, now that I've finished handing the implant over." Gloria replied with her brow creasing into confusion. Killshot nodded, before his eyes turned to Maine.
In some ways, this was opportunity.
"Maine. That's your name, right?" Killshot shouted. Maine's clear blue eyes focusing back at Killshot.
"I am." Maine replied a little cautiously. "What's it to yah?"
The lack of armour didn't fool him- Maine was a former NUSA Spec ops himself, working with Solomon Reed down in South America. He knew when a person was capable of dashing out of the car ripping a person apart with their bare hands, before anyone can react. Main could tell just by looking at them. Not to mention seeing the Baba Yagas marching into the Afterlife and getting gigs personally by the Queen of Fixers. Shit, even Maine hadn't gotten a gig by Rogue yet, and he was an edgerunner longer than the boogeyman right in front of his eyes. The footage of Adam Smasher getting smashed didn't prove him wrong either.
"I'm looking for a job. Does your crew need a sniper?" Killshot replied, stretching his lips into a smile. Noble 6 said something that Maine didn't pick up on. Killshot's head was dragged back into the car as the two Spartans talked. And soon- Killshot's head reappeared out of the open window like some crude game of whack-a-mole. "Update- the two of us are looking for a job. You need a sniper and an all-rounder? Both of us specialise in stealth."
Gloria saw how David's head turned to the back seat, eyes lurching as his lids opened up wide. Gloria didn't like that - that was the expression of his boy when he had an idea. Maine was already rubbing his chin in thought. The very prospect of having two boogeyman as part of your crew would make anyone mouth watering. Hell, anyone would jump at the prospect without a second hesitation.
"What about your pay?"
"Half of what you give to the rest of your crew. We may not be so available. Depending on what our leader has to tell us."
"No way, ain't cutting your pay. Everyone gets a fair shake. Only way I operate."
"Then whatever floats your boat."
"What's floating my boat is knowing why you want to join my crew, when it sounds pretty clear to me that you're not doing this for eddies."
Killshot smirked.
"You got us. We just need a stable platform."
"For?"
"For integrating into Night City. We need connections, stable ones. Best way is to do jobs with the Night City natives."
"Oh yeah? And what's stopping me from saying no to you? Telling every other merc to be careful?"
"Because you won't."
"…"
"Because I've been taking up jobs in Night City long enough to know that fixers don't care who we are, so long as we do what we were paid for at or above the expected level."
Maine's hand started to reach up from his chin to his entire mouth, trying to cover it from Killshot.
"Because we're god damn good at what we do, and every fixer knows it."
"…"
"And Because if you don't stab our backs, we don't stab yours."
Maine might have been covering his mouth with his hand, but that was useless to Killshot. His senses already told him that Maine was grinning ear to ear behind that fat chrome palm of his. The Solo was already sold on Killshot's advertisement.
"Wait!" David shouted at Killshot. "Let me join too!"
"David!" Gloria shouted, almost in an exasperated tone.
Killshot's eyes looked back into the car, but his head still stood out and feeling the breeze. "Yeah, sorry kid. No can do."
"Look, I'm gonna spend half of the next 7 months running through the streets anyway, you can bet your ass on that. So you can either let me join you so you can keep me under your watch, or I can start running around and make your jobs extra hard."
Killshot blinked. The Spartan IV's eyes jumping between Maine and David.
"It's not my ultimate decision to join me, though. Is it?" Killshot replied.
"Damn right, it isn't. I know you got a pair since you saved Lucy, kid. But I ain't running a preschool."
"I'll carry my own weight! I'm a Spartan's son!" David shouted back. Maine's eyes widened at the news, and the Solo scoffed. He looked at Killshot, and the Spartan sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded his head.
"Hmm? Wait, you guys can fuck?!" Maine shouted back, pointing at Killshot. Maine's gaze soon swiftly turned to Gloria, who was intentionally avoiding Maine's gaze. "Hoooly shit, Gloria! Choom! You… you fucked a boogeyman? That's who your husband was?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Right, right. My bad." Maine replied, holding up his hands, palms facing forward. Maine coughed into one of his hands before he turned to Killshot. "First off, sold on the two Baba Yagas. Give me your number and I'll call you tomorrow for our first job. And uhh… speaking of which. You know a guy named Noble 6?"
Killshot's grin disappeared as he face turned into a scowl. It was clear to Maine that he might have taken a wrong step in talking with a Baba Yaga, and quickly made sure to explain why he was asking around for the Spartan III.
"Uuuh, it's… it's nothing serious. It's just that, one of my netrunners wanted to know more about the guy. Sasha, her name's Sasha. She was saved by one of you guys, who El Capitan called 'Noble 6'. Heh," Maine chuckled a little between his explanation. "Dorio called him 'Sasha's knight in pitch black armour'. She's been asking around for more info on the guy so she can thank him personally. Though judging by how she looked the footage she has of the guy, I think she's thinking up of more than one ways to thank the guy. And after the emergency conference, she was trying her hand at asking around Arbee buildings, even trying her hand at asking other boogeymen."
"Boogeymen?"
"Spartans, you guys. The streets started calling you guys Boogeymen or Baba Yagas after your performance as the Baba Yagas. The Tyger Claws and 'Saka started calling you 'DaiTengu'. That soon spread to the other Spartans once you guys revealed yourselves all on camera."
"Right. Continue."
"'Course, she didn't get any answers back. Some said 'no comments', other's just straight up ignored her. Almost like they were scared of the guy himself. She went back to asking around fixers, especially Reilly. Since, you know- fixers are still lining up gig for you guys, last time I heard."
"I genuinely thought they'd do the opposite of that. Since they know we're… what do you guys say, 'corpo soldiers'?"
Maine scoffed.
"Choom, the fact that a merc is part of a corpo military just backs their street rep. It's like you said- 'fixers don't care who we are, so long as we do what we were paid for at or above the expected level'. That's what we call street cred. And as far as I can tell, a Baba Yaga's street cred is going to last at least a century. That means - if you're ready to take up a gig with no question, then fixers will gladly send out gigs they stashed just for you. So, anyway- Sasha. She didn't get any info back. Almost like that Noble 6 choom is the actual boogeyman."
Killshot blinked, before he laughed. Looking briefly at Noble 6 in the back seat, sitting dead still except for his eyes (which was meeting Killshot's).
"Well," Killshot replied as he looked back to Maine. "You're not far from the truth. He's a high asset to the UNSC. And if anyone was the very first Boogeyman? It's Noble 6."
"Hmm?"
"Guy made entire Militia groups disappear in one night. More than once. He was so damn good at it, that his entire files are inked black."
"… Shit, that makes a lot of sense. He that dangerous?"
"Only if you order him to be. He's really chill otherwise. Not a lot of things piss him off. But that's all I can say about him. If that Sasha person wants to find Noble 6, she'll just have to be lucky. 338-099-320. That's our phone number. Did you memorise that?"
Maine groaned quietly as he pushed his shades back up. Using his neuralware to input the numbers into his newest contact list. "Guess you're right. I'll tell Sasha to not expect much result from her search. I'll call you tomorrow."
David opened his door and stepped out when Maine turned his back.
"Wait! What about me!"
Maine sighed as he looked back.
"What about you kid? I get that your dad was a Spartan, but… how old are you?"
"17. I'll be turning 18 in 7 months!"
Maine clicked his tongue.
"Tch, still a toddler. No deal."
"Oh come on!" David exasperated, kicking the dusty dry soil in frustration. Washington says no deal, and now Maine says no deal. It wasn't fair.
"Dee, what the hell are you trying to do!"
"Trying to find a quicker way to learn how to be a Spartan!"
"No, enough!" Gloria shouted.
"It's not enough!" David shouted back.
"I was already upset with you trying to be a Spartan, Dee! But being an edgerunner? Do you even know what you're saying?!"
"I know what I'm saying! Killshot's a Spartan but taking edgerunner jobs, might as well stick with him and learn how a Spartan runs things!"
"I'm not picking up after you. I've already told you that, and I don't want the boogeymen pick up your shit either. I'm giving them a spot to work for me, not to work as some kid's nanny on the job." Maine coldly snapped back. "And stop breaking your momma's heart. If you got 7 months till you're an adult, just wait 7 more months."
David growled to himself.
"Just give me a chance! I can handle myself! Look, see my hands? I'll klep that Sandevistan in your coat."
Maine snorted. "Sure kid, just try-"
David shot forward, and when Maine felt a breeze run through him, David was stumbling back into the same spot he was standing at, huffing.
With the Military-Grade Sandevistan in his hands. David had gotten used to the feeling of the Spartan Time. Felt like he was getting the hang of forcefully seeing time slow down.
"David!" Gloria shouted.
Killshot was rubbing his temple with his fingers in frustration.
"… Wait, that's- what?" Maine started fishing around his coat when he recognised the military-grade Sandevistan in David's palm. Maine look at David, and David stared Maine right in his eyes.
David's eyes were filled with resolution, and determination.
"… A chance, huh? What kind?" Maine replied when David tossed the Sandevistan back into Maine's hand.
"Easy. You take me out on a job. Won't fuck it up."
Maine groaned to himself in thought. It was clear that the only one happy with him even thinking about it was David.
"Your name was Killshot, right?" Maine spoke. Killshot looked at Maine and nodded. "If I gave this kid a chance, would that be a deal breaker?"
Killshot sighed. Looking at the back of David's head. David himself was refusing to look at either the Spartans, or his own mom's horrified gaze.
"I honest to god wish I can say yes. But even if you didn't say yes, he's the type of kid to find some way to get himself into danger."
"So might as well be able to see this kid pulling a gonk move, huh?"
"None of us are liking it, no. But I guess that's the better option."
"… Sorry Gloria, but I don't think he's going to stand down even if I say no. Probably go to a different edgerunner neither of us knows and pesters them to join their crew, by the look in his eyes."
Gloria couldn't speak - the pain radiating out from her throat, from the result of pushing back tears and anger. She could only stare at David in disbelief.
"… Might as well have him under eyes of people you can trust. Alright, kid. You get one chance. Even if you don't fuck up the gig- if you don't listen to what I say or what these Boogeymen tell you, you're off the team permanently and that's it. Got it?"
David smiled.
"Yeah, you won't regret it." The Santo Domingo Kid replied.
"… I'll call Killshot when the job starts tomorrow. Whether you're arriving with him or not- we're starting the job and we're not gonna wait for you."
That was the best attempt Maine could pull in trying to dissaude the kid. It wasn't much effort, but judging by the kid's eyes, Maine knew that even if he put more effort into it it wouldn't have mattered. The kid wouldn't back down.
Maine got into his car and drove off, leaving dust and sand behind the turning wheels. David looked to the leaving Black Mamba, before he looked at his mother's face. His grin faded as he looked to the floor.
David's ears picked up the sound of the car door opening and closing. And briefly mistook it for his mother walking into the car without speaking. But then he heard footsteps approaching him, and he instinctively turned back.
Killshot was walking up to him, and his face told him that he was not happy with David. Not even a single bit. This was the first time David saw how cold Killshot's eyes looked, staring at him like he was piercing through the kid's skin.
"So," After a moment of deafening and crushing silence, Killshot voice broken the tense air. "You're that desperate to get into action."
David turned fully around, trying to fight back at Killshot's icy stare with his own heated gaze. "Yeah, I'm going to be a Spartan. No matter what-"
David's voice was cut off when he felt his left cheek flare up and his vision was turned to his right shoulder. The skin of his cheek was numb for a brief moment before the pain and heat rose up from under the surface of the skin.
Gloria screamed, before rushing to cut David away from Killshot, using herself as a barricade between the two.
Killshot had slapped him- and judging by the fact that not even David's senses registered anything until after it happened, Killshot was serious.
"I'm genuinely not happy. Neither is your mother." Killshot continued. The tone of his voice was much more terse and monotone - it was like a slab of stone or concrete. "There was a reason why Spartan IIs and IIIs were a controversy, and reason why we were adamant on using proper UNSC soldiers as Spartan IV candidates."
David looked back into Killshot's eyes. "I know. But this is my choice."
"A choice that's going to affect the rest of your future. Starting tomorrow."
"I'm not going to regret it."
"That's what they all say. Until their actions show otherwise."
Killshot breathed in deep, held his breath, and then breathed out just as strongly. It was so silent, that David barely picked up on it. He soon realised that he never actually heard Killshot breathe before.
"If you're that hellbent on learning what it's like to be a Spartan, then I'm going to treat you like one. Every time you act undisciplined, you will be held accountable. Every time you act impatient, you will be held accountable. When you go out there, you listen to me and you follow what I order you to a T. I gave you a chance to just act your age. Starting now, you will not be given any chance to. We will not consider that as an excuse, either. If you can't act like a UNSC military official, then you will be off the Spartan candidate list permanently. You might think I don't have the authority to. But I know Cell and Washington will agree to this decision unanimously, so don't think that if I take you off the list there's another way for you to become a Spartan. Do. You. Understand."
David briefly looked to the floor, before he clenched his fists and stood up straighter. And then he looked back to Killshot.
"Sir, yes, sir!"
Killshot rolled his jaw around in frustration as he took another deep breath in.
"Go apologise to your mother. It's the least you can do."
That's all Killshot said to David, before he walked back into the back seat of the car. David had second thoughts when Killshot refused to talk to David for the rest of the day. But at least he managed to claw out a chance to start earlier than expected.