Hi everyone, I hope you've had a fantastic holiday season. So I've found a job that has a bit less energy-draining labor attached to it so I can have a little more breathing room for hobbies such as this story. That means we should be getting back to our regularly scheduled programming sometime soon. Now let's see what kind of fresh hell I concocted for you poor test subj- I mean fine readers… yes, readers, that's the right word.

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"You... abandoned... us," a choir of voices echoed around John-117, "it was... your duty... to... lead us... to... protect us," the voices grew louder, the pain now recognizable in unsynced choir, "not... waste our lives... for a fight... you knew we could not win."

John opened his eyes to find himself back inside the broken, infected ruin that was once High Charity. The room he was in had very little light even for John's augmented sight to register any complex details for anything outside of a 10 ft radius around him. In that darkness, many humanoid forms lined the organic and metal walls, covered in a shroud from head to toe. These weren't normal humanoids, they were too big for natural humans and too small for Brutes. These outlines were of Spartans, but sickly and twisted, almost beyond recognition.

John tried to speak but the words wouldn't formulate on his tongue. As he tried to form the words and push them past the blockage in his mind, the shapes stepped forward and to John's horror were completely infected by the Flood. The only discernible individuality consisted of the ID numbers on their scorched, melted and shattered forest green titanium Mjolnir Mk IV and V armor plates. The ones in his direct eyesight had the numbers of S-051 Kurt, S-029 Joshua, S-039 Isaac, S-044 Anton, and S-059 Malcolm as the ghost of John's failure as a leader shambled towards him, screaming out their torturous wailing siren call of death.

"You... should have… did mORE," the twisted mob of flood infected Spartan-IIs all spoke in perfect unison this time in one singular, tearable voice that made John want to vomit.

"I TOLD YOU! WE EXIST TOGETHER NOW, TWO CORPSES IN ONE GRAVE!" boomed the familiar voice of the Gravemind's unnerving, cackle crescendoed from the throats of what was once his family in arms as they lashed out with their twisted, mangled arms and pounced at the only living thing within reach.

John sidestepped the combat form that was once Kurt as the body jumped at him. The infected Spartan instead of hitting its target smashed into three of the other infected Spartans behind John, the tag of S-034 Samuel among the pile of limbs, biomass, and armor. This failed attack gave John the breathing room he needed to shake off the shock of the moment, and assess the situation he found himself in. He was without his armor, outnumbered, out powered, and without a clear path to escape, leaving only the defensive option left on the table. John would need to bide his time and wait for an opening to eliminate the infection forms inside the body of his friends.

Isaac was the next closest and attempted to strike out with the jagged bone of an arm splintered in half. The only upside to this event that John could tell as he ducked under the combat form's attack was that it didn't have the same speed as a normal Spartan did. As Isaac's attack failed to land, it left an opening big enough for the unarmed Spartan commander to use all the force he could muster to hit Isaac in his unarmored gut where the infection form controlling his body was poking out, popping the parasite before it could attempt to react to John's strike. Isaac's body flew across the room into the darkness that surrounded him.

"NO! GIVE IN TO ME! DO NOT RESIST!" the Gravemind screamed in rage as John did his absolute best to fend off the shells of his family by rolling out of the way and popping the infection forms when the flood controlled Spartans opened their guard. John let out a silent scream of pain as his vision turned blinding white and collapsed from a burning pain lighting up across his body similar to freezer burn when forcefully pulled out of cryosleep too fast.

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Star Chart: Slip Space Transit…

Location: Aboard UNSC Destroyer O'Riley…

Date: 30 July 2557…

Time: 10:47 military standard time…

"It's opening up! Everyone step back, let the paramedics through," John heard a feminine voice order out as consciousness return to him as he felt an impact with something hard against his front. John felt like he'd just survived re-entry, and all of his nerves were still burning.

They must have quick thawed me, John realized as his vision cleared to that of a bulkhead of the cryo station. John's body couldn't move, the shock of the sudden wake up taking a second to wear off, are we under attack? No, the alarms aren't going off. What's happening?

John felt human hands turn him over and try to get an apparatus around his mouth. He flinched back at the contact of the cold hands currently trying to set the medical device on his face. Instead of allowing the person above him to set it properly, John scrunched up his nose and forced his head to move away from the hand in his face.

"He's alive," a gruff male voice sounded out from above John, a sigh of relief mixing with the medical officer's statement.

"What's going on? Why was I woken?" John asked each question in quick succession as he opened his eyes, sat up, took a deep breath and coughed.

There were roughly five to six crewmen and Marines gathered around John. Two of them looked like medical staff with red crosses displayed on their uniforms, while the rest looked to be Marines and other assorted Navy personnel from cryo engineers and deck staff.

"You're, uh, brain was dormant for a good half of the trip but it lit up like a Christmas tree a few minutes ago and I had to unthaw the whole deck in case this entire deck started doing the same," one of the cryo engineers within the collection of military personnel around him stepped forward and spoke up.

"How long until we reach the system?" John asked as he forced his still thawing muscle groups to cooperate with his commands to stand up on his two feet.

"Three days, Spartan," John heard the feminine voice again, this time remembering it.

"Thank you," John acknowledged, looking over his shoulder at the woman behind him to give her a slight nod, finding Parisa standing there, "thank you, Lieutenant."

"Sir," Parisa saluted as John turned his attention to walking out of the cryo deck and into a nearby locker room.

Inside of the single man locker room, John worked his way into a brand new set of BDUs specially made for his stature and a magnum sidearm with two full magazines of ammunition. It looked identical to all the other branches BDUs but had an onyx black coloration, it wasn't too dissimilar to the ones that ONI wore but it had green detail stitching in the place of the ONI's white. The emblem for the Spartan-II Program was worn proudly on his left shoulder in olive drab and silver stitching and the unit insignia of Blue Team was presented proudly on the right shoulder with the Roman numeral for 2 sitting directly under a white eagle head and golden lightning bolt depicted on the bird's neck, the entire emblem sitting on a blue circle background. The last piece of the uniform to go on was the rank but before he put it on, John looked at it with an air of apprehension. Sitting in his palm was a velcro patch with two silver bars connected with small bridges near either end.

It didn't feel right, being promoted like he was but when almost the entirety of the UEGs leadership from the smallest district mayor to the president demands it happen you can't say no. Even after having accepted the rank, it just felt hollow to him. This reward as everyone put it, in John's personal opinion, costs too much to make up for the loss of just about everything and everyone that he knew. That was the key reason he was on this ship, no, on this deployment to begin with instead of taking the shore leave that was offered to him from Lord Hood. He just needed to recenter himself and combat was the only way he knew how. There was also the fact that Blue Team was still out there and he needed to know that the last of his Spartans were okay.

This deployment wouldn't move him back to Blue Team immediately due to the sensitivity of their mission and the fact that the mission he was currently undertaking needed an experienced Spartan or two that had faced Flood first hand. John was the only one suited for the job at the moment since he had dealt with more than his fair share of the parasite, sadly he would be the only Spartan assigned here since most of the newer generation were already assigned elsewhere or being reorganized for a campaign to take and secure Requiem. Thankfully the mission would put the Spartans of Blue Team close enough to regroup after one or both of their missions were completed.

The deployment parameters for this op was simply a survey to determine how dangerous a newly discovered Forerunner installation was. John would be accompanied by a small company-sized unit of Marines that had its own experience with the Flood during their attack on Africa and a couple lances of Sangheili Ranger Teams due to the very nature of these kinds of Forerunner artifacts requiring both factions to be present just in case one side or the other had any bright idea to use whatever is in it to harm the other faction. Their ride to the location would be aboard a Destroyer class warship UNSC O'Riley, the Sangheili, on the other hand, would be taking a DAV light corvette under the name Shadow of Shakal.

After looking one last time at the new officers pin in his hand, the new Captain John-117 set the pin to his uniform and stepped out of the small locker room steeling himself for the mission ahead.

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"Hey Spartan, sir," John heard Lieutenant Parisa call out to him as he searched the hallway for his quarters.

"Lieutenant," John glanced over his shoulder in acknowledgment but kept his focus forward, "was there something that you needed?"

"I never got the chance to say thank you when you pulled my unit out of the fire back in the Battle of Mombasa," Parisa clarified as she quickened her pace to keep up with the Spartan she was trying to talk to, "and for drawing enough of the Flood away so me and my soldiers evac out of that death trap."

"I was just doing my job, ma'am," John deflected the gratitude offered, but the part about the Flood almost made him stop in his tracks. So very few made it out of that death trap after the Flood started to spread out from their crash site. He'd seen so many soldiers die and become infected with each turn of the corner during that living nightmare. Realizing that she was there and could have been one among the countless dead made a shiver run up his spine in horror but it was soon replaced with pride knowing that he had drawn enough Flood to him that Parisa was able to make it out alive.

"What are you doing in this area of the ship anyway, Captain?" Parisa asked, "this is the crewman deck."

"Looking for my quarters," John answered as the realization set in.

"Um, you're on the wrong deck then, Commissioned Officers quarters are the next level up," Parisa stated, making John stop.

I guess it hasn't completely set in yet, John thought as a slightly pink color tinted his features in slight embarrassment.

"Thank you, lieutenant," John nodded to the much shorter woman and walked off as fast as he could back to the elevators he'd used to get to this floor.

"Sir, you have a priority message waiting for you in your cabin," the robotic voice of the ship's AI called over the loudspeaker as John stepped into the lift alone.

"Thank you, do you know who it's from?" John asked straightening slightly.

"No, sir," the AI responded, "it was sent through highly encrypted channels, I don't have the proper clearance to inspect it. The only thing I was allowed access to from the message is a single line from the title of the message 'OLY OLY OXEN FREE'."

ALL OUT IN THE FREE, WE'RE ALL FREE, John thought to himself as he leaned back on the bulkhead yet maintaining a defensive stance as he quietly waited patiently for the lift to stop.

As John reached his quarters, he set his hand against his sidearm strapped to his waist. The Spartan didn't draw the weapon but loosened it enough for him to quickly draw the weapon upon any unwanted guests in the room. The door slid open with a slight hiss revealing an almost empty, space beside a chair, well tucked single bed, and a small terminal sitting on the desk. John walked over to the desk and opened up the terminal to find a notification with the code word present on it. John opened it only to freeze at the file presented within.

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Will we ever find out what is going on in John's head? (Most likely becoming a typical edgy fanfic protagonist)

What the hell did John get in his email? (Most likely a timeshare add)

How much longer before we get to see explosions and the Mass Effect races again? (Soon, I assure you)

When will the next chapter come out? (I sure as hell don't know)

Find out next time on Element Halo.

Yes, I know that this was short compared to a lot of my other chapters but I wanted to get you guys something even if it is short since I really haven't posted much of anything in just about a year. I do hope you all enjoyed it, and don't forget to tell me you're thoughts in the reviews. I hope I didn't push it too far by promoting the Master Chief.