The Crossroads of Fate

In the depths of the forerunner ship, he looked on at the vast structure surrounding him.

His armor bruised, burned and battered, the only thing that shone anymore was the visor covering his face – and even that was so scratched up, it was surprising he could still see through it. The olive green armor that covered his entire body was smeared by several black spots where the impact of plasma bolts, shotgun shells and bullets had singed, burned or dented it.

It was a miracle he was still alive, that much was for sure. Checking his weapon, he saw that it had been smashed significantly by the impact. Discarding it, the Master Chief instead withdrew one of the pistols he had picked up from the flood he had fought on the way.

And yet, he hoped for a miracle that would ensure that the person he left behind would stay alive.

Taking an unsteady step forwards, Master Chief Jon 117 continued to look around for an opening – some sort of exit from this area. It appeared to be underneath a large engine complex of sorts – probably a storage or loading area that had been added on by the Covenant in the generations the ship had remained aboard high charity. But there was no way out of here, and the massive doors behind him were sealed shut. Not that he'd want to go out anyway – they would be about to hit Earth atmosphere now. Although the Mjnolnir armor was tough, it wasn't that tough to survive re-entry. Space wasn't any better either.

Thinking about space, the Master Chief shuddered. He remembered the comrades he had lost at Reach; some of them ending up floating helplessly in space. He hated the vacuum, for it meant leaving the ground, and gravity – both conditions where he was in his element. Floating around in the vacuum didn't let him do anything, and only made him a target. He was ineffective there, unable to finish or do anything...

Pushing the thoughts aside, however, he continued to look around. There was a mission to complete, and he had to stop the prophet before he activated the rings. The Master Chief could only hope that Cortona was able to hold out at her end.

Finally, after several seconds, he found an exit. It was on the other side of the room; and came in the form of a ladder. The ladder appeared to lead to a door that was hidden behind several columns. He could barely see it; and had only picked it up on the Infrared sensors in his helmet. It was nestled away quite well between the columns, perfect for a hidden entrance or exit.

The Master chief didn't waste any time, running full-tilt towards the ladder, and then jumping on it such that he was already half-way up. Within a second, he reached the top, and then continued to run forwards. The pathway appeared hastily constructed, and had no side rails whatsoever. It disappeared into the wall however, turning a corner just a few feet in. The ceiling was quite low – he'd have to hunch to not bump the ceiling. It must have been meant for either grunts or jackals – an elite would hardly be comfortable in it, while Brutes would certainly not fit. This could prove to his advantage.

Stooping low, he waited just before turning the corner, listening for signs of activity. There were none. He'd normally just use the optical extension to scout around the corner, but deploying and withdrawing it would take time – besides, if anyone was here, they would have surely spotted him by now.

Turning the corner, pistol primed and ready, the Master Chief was relieved to see nobody on guard. Only the door was there, and it was open. The corridor that lay beyond was far; far different from the ones he had gone through on most other Covenant ships. The corridor walls were a dull grey color, however, several bright blue veins ran through them, casting the entire corridor in an eerie twilight.

It would have bothered him, but for some reason, it seemed oddly familiar – almost as if he had seen this before. The feeling kept nagging him at the back of his head as he walked down the corridor.

After nearly a minute, he approached a dead end, where the corridor split off to either side in a large 'T' junction. Looking both left and right, he saw that it was clear. But where was he going to go? Getting a map wasn't possible – covenant systems were bad enough, but forerunner systems? Without Cortona to help, there was no way he could get access to the maps. He was going to have to improvise, from the looks of it.

Taking a right, he slowly moved down the corridor, keeping a sharp ear out for any hostile movement. The Master Chief noticed, however, that despite walking for quite a bit – there weren't many doors at all. The ones that he did try to access were almost always locked.

It was odd...why was the entire area empty? Normally one would expect guards or the like, at the very least, a few roaming patro-.

From up ahead, a noise interrupted his thoughts - the sound of slow, heavy footfalls echoing through the corridor.

Speak of the devil he thought to himself. Looking around, the Master Chief searched for some sort of cover. There was a door nearby to his right, but walking up to it produced no result – it was locked up fairly tight. Looking at the console to the right, he tried to manipulate it, working it. The controls were vaguely like that of the Covenant's. The screen behind the visor translated the symbols to their approximate human equivalents. He realized that the door wasn't locked – just not under automatic control. He set it to open manually, and then lock up immediately afterwards.

With a soft swoosh, the doors split apart, revealing a somewhat dark room beyond. Switching to night vision, the master chief realized that the room was nothing more than a supply cabinet.

Quickly stepping in, he watched as the doors closed quickly, plunging the room back into the darkness.

He had to wait for sometime as the footfalls grew louder and louder, till, finally, they came to outside his door. They seemed to stop for a few seconds just outside it, however. The Master Chief quietly removed the safety off the pistol, prepared for the worst. If it was indeed brutes, then this would be a difficult scenario indeed. But still, he had been through worse.

And he always won.

He sat there, tense for nearly a minute, about ready to pounce at the door. But then, finally the footsteps continued moving on.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the Master Chief looked around for anything useful. There was only what looked like cleaning equipment here, as well as detergents that the Covenant might have used. The room itself was tiny; barely enough to accommodate him and all the equipment. A glowing console nearby provided the only light with which he could see in the normal spectrum.

Manipulating the console, he opened the doors, pistol drawn and ready. But when he looked out, there was no-one. Whomever it was had walked away, from the looks of it.

Taking this as a sign of good luck, the Master Chief didn't waste any time, moving as fast as he could through the corridor while still maintaining a degree of stealth.

He kept on moving down the hall, coming across a junction a few seconds later.

There were sounds here again – mostly growls and footsteps. This time coming from the left side of the junction. Snaking the optical instrument around the corner, he took a quick peek at the other side. Three Jackals had gathered here – two were wielding shields and another, a sniper rifle. One of the ones with the shields was facing towards the junction, while the other was just leaning against the wall, staring into nowhere. Just past the junction was a large window of the view outside. The third jackal with the sniper rifle was looking just past this, at what appeared to be a storm they were traveling through. It was facing away from the Master Chief.

He needed a way to draw them out. But it wouldn't be easy. But then, fighting the Covenant rarely ever was. Checking the pistol, he nodded to himself. It was time to act.

Without a second thought, and with blinding speed, the Master Chief hurled himself around the corridor, throwing a punch at the jackal on the right with one hand, while using the other to shoot the other Jackal's head over the shield.

They didn't even have time to react. The one of the left crumpled almost immediately, while the one on the right barely had time to look in his direction before his punch smashed it's face in, spilling blood on the wall next to him. He brought the gun up at the last jackal, which had whirled around and was now raising its gun to face him. But when he pulled the trigger, it only clicked.

Not wasting any time, he immediately threw the pistol up, grabbed it by the barrel, and then flung it at the last Jackal before ducking to the side. The pistol hit the jackal in the chin, knocking it's head back with a resounding and somewhat sick i snap. /i The Jackal did manage to get off a shot, though, which barely missed where the Master Chief's head was a mere half a second ago.

Getting up, he immediately grabbed the beam rifle as well as the Covenant's plasma pistols. They would serve to be somewhat useful in the upcoming fight.

Running down the corridor, the Master Chief ran by the window, only glancing out to try and get a rough grasp of where they were.

Then he froze. Turning, he faced the window fully, staring out at the storm.

He had just seen something – something out of the corner of his eye that, even with his reflexes, he barely noticed. It had been something in the clouds that had gathered outside. Something strange...

It had looked like a face.

He attempted to discount it to fatigue, or just a random cloud formation. But even in that glance – even in that momentary glimpse of it...it had looked so real.

Then the Master Chief studied the storm itself.

It raged outside the craft; as if the ship itself was stationary and the storm was around it. But yet, the Master Chief knew – staying still would be suicide for the Prophet, and he wouldn't be so stupid as to merely stand in one place – not when potentially hundreds of anti-aircraft guns could be fired at the craft. This was no Covenant cruiser after all – far smaller, it was probably significantly more vulnerable to such things.

But even if they were moving...the storm must have been following them, or at least be very, very large for it to remain there as long as it did. Storms would be no threat to the forerunner ship itself; but still...

As the Master Chief looked on, he could feel a chill run down his spine. He had seen some pretty disturbing things before, but none of them disturbed them as did this storm. He didn't know what it was about the storm, but it was downright i creepy /i to even look at it. The way the clouds boiled and rumbled indicated as if they were reacting...reacting to his gaze and curiosity, almost.

Shaking himself off the view, the Master Chief focused on his mission. There was no time to go site-seeing...too much depended on him now, too many people were counting on him to win this war.

Then the entire ship lurched, as if something had hit it. The Master Chief staggered, catching his balance quickly. The lights went dim, while the veins in the walls surrounding shifted colors from a pale blue to a bright white and yellow mix. Looks like the entire ship had gone into battle stations, or something similar.

Then he heard it – a loud explosion emerging from somewhere nearby. Apparently, someone or something had managed to hit the ship badly enough to have made a difference.

Breaking into a run, he forgot all guise of stealth and ran full-tilt down the hall. As he passed, he recognized several signs on the way. They were similar to the ones he had seen on covenant ships. The nearest one was the detention centre. He made it his choice of targets – if he could get there and neutralize the guards, he'd have access to a lot more weapons, at the very least. And from the looks of it, if a Covenant computer was there, he'd at least be able to get a map as well.

Running down the corridors, he managed to avoid a few of the patrols that were running to the scene of the recent incident. Maintaining some stealth helped him as he ducked into an unused room here and there as patrols went by. It was nothing but sheer, incredible luck that not one of them managed to catch him as he made his way to the junction near the cell blocks. Here, he saw that there were two brutes guarding the doorway. One was wielding a plasma rifle, while the other a Covenant carbine.

The odds simply couldn't get any better.

Both were located at the centre junction where three corridors met. The Master Chief was at the right side of this junction, at the end of a long corridor. Creeping around the corner, he brought the rifle's sight up and aimed at the nearest Brute before letting loose a shot that went clear through its head, dropping it to the ground. Within a fraction of a second, he fired again on the second brute, flooring it as well. The beam rifle overcharged from the quick fire, spitting out hot steam from the plasma battery. Putting it aside, the Master Chief wielded both of the plasma pistols and then charged out from behind cover to the doors.

Within two seconds, he was already approaching the doors – however, he could see that they were opening, possibly allowing for re-enforcements to come through.

Not to be overwhelmed, however, the Master Chief pressed the triggers on both the plasma pistols, bringing them up to overcharge. As he approached the doors, he made a massive leap in mid-air, turning his body around to face the door as it flew past. The doors opened, revealing the faces of two brutes that began to step forward. Their faces grew in surprise as they saw the Master Chief fly past at unnatural speeds.

And then their faces were no longer as both the plasma bolts smashed into them, the heat causing one of them to scream and collapse onto the ground as the plasma did its work. The other just stood there, his body limp and about to collapse.

The Master Chief didn't waste any time; he rolled and recovered from the drop, immediately reaching for and picking up a Covenant Carbine. Bringing it up, the Master Chief charged the still-standing Brute's body, smashing into it and using it as a shield as he charged into the room, expecting a hail of fire to come after him.

But none did.

Instead, he heard, as well as felt, the loud howling sound of the wind as it escaped into low pressure. Looking on into the room, for once in his life, the Master Chief was truly and completely horrified at what he saw.

The entire room was large, holding several cells on two levels. At the end of the room, beyond a large central pillar, there appeared to be an airlock that at one point of time must have been heavily guarded – however, where the airlock doors one were there was only a large gaping hole showing the boiling and rumbling clouds beyond it. He could see the faint flicker of a containment screen as it tried to hold the atmosphere in, succeeding only partially on doing so.

What was most striking however, were two things:

The first and the most obvious, was the thing that had lodged itself firmly in the central pillar. From the databanks in the suit, he recognized it as a Terran helicopter – a motorized helicopter, and an extremely old variety, too. Nobody used things like this anymore, much less against the Covenant.

The Chopper was smashed to bits, almost – the blades were strewn over the entire room, some of the bits impaling various brutes and jackals nearby.

What was surprising, however, was that the body itself was still intact. Normally, any impact at the kind of velocities they were thinking about would have utterly vaporized the helicopter, much less only destroy its blades. Not only had it survived the initial impact, but it had punched through the Forerunner ship's shields and armor, and then somehow stayed intact till it hit the pillar, at which point it only lost the blades, and not much else.

The second most startling thing, however, was probably the most disturbing.

In the various cells surrounding him, lay skeletons. The insides of each cell however, seemed almost entirely covered with blood – some to the point where it formed a pool nearly an inch thick. He recognized the skeletons as having belonged to Covenant grunts, elites and maybe even hunters. But what could have done this. Not even Brutes were that...brutal, so to speak. Not even they would resort to such a thing. It was almost as if the muscles and flesh of the victims had spontaneously liquefied, leaving behind only the hardened skeleton.

Then, all of a sudden, a wave of static blasted through his radio. Turning it down didn't help as the Master Chief looked on. Despite turning the volume all the way down to zero, the static remained on his channel.

Then the Master Chief saw it. What it was, was a human leg, sticking out from the rubble of the helicopter. Rushing to it, the master chief knelt down beside it, placing the carbine to one side. He started digging through the rubble that had fallen on the pilot, attempting to clear as much as possible.

Eventually, after a few seconds, he was able to clear out enough to see the person's face. It was definitely a male, but the face was covered almost entirely by a gas mask. The uniform was that of no known special operations or UNSC force the Master Chief knew.

Revealing more of the person also revealed the extent of the injuries. He realized with a fair bit of grimness, that the person wasn't going to survive for more than a half hour longer, and would probably remain unconscious.

However, his hypothesis was proven wrong, when, in the next moment, the person immediately gasped for air, opening both eyes. He looked up at the Master Chief and wheezed.

Then, all of a sudden, faster than even the Master Chief himself could perceive, the man grabbed his head and brought it down closer to his face. The Master Chief was about to react when the man finally spoke, wheezing during the sentences as he did so...

"You have to stop her...please...I beg of you, stop her before it's too late!'

This caught the Master Chief off guard. Rather than resisting the grip, however, the Master Chief instead asked.

"Stop who? And who are you?"

"NO TIME! Just stop her! Alma...she can't get loose onto the rest of the planet. Otherwise everyone's dead. She'll kill everyone! And she wont stop for any other soul!"

The Master Chief was about to say something when another burst of static came through the speaker, following shortly by the low giggle of a young girl.

His head snapped up, looking around for the source. He had definitely heard that, for sure. Or had he?

Looking back down at the person, he saw through the man's visors that his eyes were wide, with shock, awe and terror.

"My God, she's here! Alma's here!" He screamed as the Master Chief, pushing him away and reaching for a weapon.

"Run! Run! Run! Run! RUN! RUN! RUN!" he kept screaming at the Master Chief, repeating the same word over and over again.

The giggle came again, followed by a short laugh. This time, however, it was just behind him.

Whirling around, he looked for a sign of threat – only to find her.

She was a small child; barely perhaps 8 or 9, with long, black hair that covered most of her face and upper body. She was wearing a short white skirt that gave her an almost creepy aura.

She whispered, slowly, softly at the master chief. Even though it was barely a whisper, it still reverberated far louder than the screams of the person next to him.

"I know who you are." the little girl whispered, before reaching out to touch him.

That single touch, that single moment of contact was so powerful, it dented the chest plate of the Mjnolnir armor, and drove him back several dozen feet, to smash into the wall. He barely survived the impact, however judging from the insane pain in his gut, the girl had probably broken a rib or two. Still, the master chief got up, looking for the girl again, and this time getting ready to follow the advice of now-silent stranger.

A second later, however, he noticed as blackness began to form around him. It appeared to be a vortex of sorts; one that was around half his torso's size. However, it began to grow rapidly, and then duplicate itself to cover him almost entirely. The last thing the master chief felt was a massive punch to the stomach, before the world went black around him.

Sadhal huddled up in the cell as best as he could, trying to stay comfortable. He glanced past the force field at the Brutes standing guard. They ignored him, for the most part, and continued to just laze around the prison block.

Traitors...all traitors.

He thought, looking back at the wall. Sadhal considered how he had gotten here, and of the prophet himself.

He had been one of the chosen few that were originally meant to guard the forerunner ship. The recent changing of the guards to the Brutes had, surprisingly, not reached the ship yet, despite having have taken place everywhere else in High Charity. This was probably because he was meant to guard the engine room, and operate the equipment – something which the Brutes were not completely competent at.

And yet, the Prophet had ordered the Brutes to take over, and to lock Sadhal up for now. He did not know...should he be thankful for good luck? Or, considering what the Brutes were capable of...was he really unlucky?

In either case, he was an Elite, the arm of the prophets. Even though the Prophets had betrayed him, betrayed them, they would still fight. He had to fight. For the sake of his brothers, for the sake of the fallen.

The Prophets had betrayed him...betrayed all the Elites. Vengeance would be theirs that much was for sure. If not now...

No...Sadhal looked back up at the Brutes...he would bide his time and wait. Eventually, one of them would slip and something would happen. He would wait for that moment...that opportunity...and then he would strike.

The ship shook suddenly, forcing him to grab the sides to balance out and prevent from hitting the floor. Looking out, he saw some of the Brutes had fallen down. Their comrades quickly moved to help them back up. Something had hit the ship, from the looks of it.

Sadhal continued to watch the Brutes as they got agitated. A few of them checked their radios and communicated with command personnel elsewhere.

And then the sirens began to ring.

Sadhal looked up. He recognized the sirens – an intruder alert. But who could have boarded the ship? There was virtually no way to know from in here. Still, he watched and waited.

The Brutes began to run for the weapons' racks, grabbing their red plasma rifles and the brute shots.

Then the ship shook again, but this time only slightly. Sadhal wondered what was going on. Could the prophet's insane plan have backfired, and the humans were actually managing to stop them? Perhaps...in either case, he watched as the Brutes looked around nervously. Around half of them went towards the door, obviously headed out to intercept the intruder.

In the events that followed, the first thing Sadhal felt – or rather i heard, /i was a very, very strange sound.

It was definitely human, that was for sure. But it...it was so odd. It was somewhat high pitched, much more than an Adult's normally would be. From what he remembered of the Human's culture and society, it sounded like a child, a i female /i child's. But what was a female human child doing onboard a forerunner ship?

He watched as the Brutes walked towards the doors, all of them looking around quite nervously. Apparently they heard the sound too. As they approached the doors, however, it slid open before they got anywhere close to it.

And then he saw her.

She was a small girl, around the same height as a Jackal. She was dressed in a single red gown, which had smudges of red blood on it. Her hair obscured most of her face, and hung all the way down to her shoulders.

The Brutes reacted almost immediately. With a loud roar, they raised their rifles and opened fire at the girl. Visibly, she didn't move, didn't appear to speak anything. But still, everyone could feel her voice as she giggled again. Before the first plasma bolt even touched her, her body fell into ashes, disappearing almost completely.

The Brutes were confused, looking back and forth and making sweeps of the area, searching for the little girl. Sadhal got off the floor and stood, watching them.

Another laugh – and this time the girl reappeared.

That...that's impossible he thought to himself, as the girl appeared and crossed from one end of the cell complex to the other within the blink of an eye. She was definitely walking, but walking so fast that he had missed it almost completely.

What was more horrifying, however, was what happened to the Brutes.

Black vortexes began to appear around one of the Brutes, who promptly began to scream in pain. These vortices duplicated rapidly till they surrounded the Brute almost completely. Even more began to appear and surrounded the rest of the brutes near the door. The ones that had stood guard near his cell ran forward to help.

Another laugh and Sadhal saw her again. He took a step back as more vortexes appeared; this time closer to him and the Brutes outside the cell. Now that they were closer, he could hear them...the screams. Ones of pain, of denial...of rage. They reverberated through the walls and the air, and in a sense, through his very soul.

From the Vortexes, several things appeared. They were vaguely humanoid in shape, but had no lower body. They flew through the air, emitting that same loud scream. They flew till they hit the Brutes, completely passing through them. The Brutes had no chance to react. They immediately screamed out in pain and fell over, dead. There had been no struggle, no chance to fire weapons.

Once they fell, however, Sadhal got a full view of the scene just beyond them.

He had seen many a thing in his lifetime, and even had the horror of witnessing firsthand what the Flood did to Covenant flesh. But this...this surpassed that in terms of sheer horror and disgust by far.

Where the Brutes near the door had been, there was only...blood. Blood and skeletons. The blood was all over the floor and the walls – there was so much that it almost seemed like their flesh had turned to liquid, and then exploded in an area around them. It was disgusting to the core, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for the Brutes.

Then the laughter came again. He blinked.

And then she was in front of the forcefield.

The little girl was in front of the forcefield. Not less than three meters from him. Slowly, Sadhal backed away from here. If she had been responsible for all this...

Then he began to back away a bit faster.

She whispered, slowly. He couldn't see her lips move, yet a voice uttered out from them.

"I can feel you...yet...I cannot touch you."

As if to illustrate her point, she reached forwards, and hesitantly touched the forcefield.

What happened next completely surprised Sadhal. The moment she touched the forcefield, she screamed.

Her scream was so loud and so powerful; it physically drove Sadhal back into the wall, forcing him to bring his hands to his head in an attempt to block it. She continued to scream and scream and scream to no end. He could feel a pressure begin to build up as she continued. The pain in his ears was indescribable, building up almost at the same rate as the girl's.

It continued to build up till his head felt like it would explode from the pressure.

And then it stopped.

Sadhal opened his eyes, only to find the little girl gone.

So was the force field, however.

Looking left and right, he tepidly stepped forwards, unsure of what to do.

Who was that girl? How had she done what she did to the Brutes?

Questions filled his mind. The most pressing of which was Was she going to return?

In either case, he needed to get moving. Staying here would not be a wise idea at all, especially if she returned.

He activated the armor's shield (thankfully they hadn't removed that) and then stepped out of the cell. Not hesitating one bit, he grabbed one of the dead Brute's plasma rifles.

Carefully stepping towards and then around the blood spattered area near the door, he ran out, not giving a single glance back.

At first, he was unsure where to go. He looked left and right, only to find the corridor empty. To his right were two more skeletons, similarly liquefied like the Brutes inside.

Sadhal realized he was going to need help, wherever he went. The forerunner ship had another containment complex for prisoners. And if he recalled correctly, there were several other grunts and elite guards that had been on the ship when the Brutes came. They would have been held in the other complex as opposed to this one.

Turning down to his left, Sadhal ran as fast as he could. Whatever the forcefield had done to the girl, it may just have been a temporary setback, meaning she could come back at any moment. He did not want to stay in one place to let her catch him, however.

Running through the corridors, he heard it again.

The laughter was softer this time, coming from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Sadhal only increased the pace as he saw the little girl walk perpendicular through the intersection he had just come through, before disappearing into ashes again.

From the direction she was going, she would head up to the bridge of the ship. Good...as long as he got as far away from him as possible, he couldn't care less.

He was approaching the cell complex now. Then, as he turned the corridor, he screeched to a halt.

Three dead jackals lay in the corridor just ahead of him. He had seen a lot of bodies along the way here, so it should not be surprising. However, what was interesting was how these Jackals had died.

One had its face smashed inwards by a somewhat large and significant force. Another had its neck snapped, killing it instantly. The third however, had been shot clearly by a human weapon.

Humans...here? he thought to himself. It would explain how the Girl got here. But these jackals had not died by her hand. It meant that someone else was here and had already boarded the craft.

Stepping over the bodies, he looked out the window next to them.

There was a storm outside the window; one that seemed unnatural...eerie, in a sense. It stayed with the ship, making it look as if it was stationary. Sadhal knew the truth however, was that the ship had to be moving. But yet, the storm kept up with them. How was that even possible?

There was definitely something odd going on here.

Wasting no time, he ran down the corridor and followed signs to the cell blocks. He came up to the intersection leading to it, and turned into the corridor outside the block.

Outside the cell block itself, he found two Brutes that had been killed in a similar fashion – except this time by Plasma weapons. They were outside the doors - gaurds obviously. He walked down the corridor slowly, wielding the rifle ahead of him. When he reached the bodies, he squatted down, examining the marks. Both had been killed only recently, and had been sniped, possibly from the corridor from which he had turned in.

He looked up at the Cell doors themselves. Listening carefully, he could hear a low howling coming in from behind the doors. Getting up, he approached them. They opened, revealing the room beyond.

The howl immediately picked up in intensity and volume. He saw that it came from a massive hole in the wall to the other end of the cell block, where the storm was clearly visible. A force field kept the air in, but however it didn't soundproof it either. The howl of the storm, along with the occasional rumble of thunder came through at full intensity.

Then he noticed the massive object that had collided in the central column. It looked like no Terran object he'd seen before. It had crashed into the pillar and caused significant damage to the power systems, cutting off the force fields to the various cells. Looking into the cells however, brought only despair. All but one of the cells held bodies, all of which had been liquefied just like the Brutes in the other complex.

It was obvious, that the Girl had come from here – from this object. But how had she survived the crash? How had she managed to make it out? Indeed, why had she killed the prisoners in one way, and yet left the Brutes and the Jackals the way she had?

Turning to his left, his answer soon became visible, shocking him to the core.

Sadhal simply stared at it in shock.

Or rather, him.

Buried almost half a meter in the wall to his extreme left, Sadhal saw the last person he was expecting on this ship, indeed, the last person anywhere i near /i such a holy relic. He nearly dropped his rifle in surprise, but quickly recovered, raising it.

Covered with dust, the blue coolants that had spilled over his suit glimmered off the shields that covered the olive-green armor. The Visor, although cracked, obscured his face to the Covenant elite, much like it had to the countless number he had killed. However, it was the armor that the person wore that identified him to the Covenant, and that which had given him the name, 'Demon'.

The Demon was here.

The Demon was right in front of him.

What horrified Sadhal most, however, was that the Demon was dead – or at least, looked like it. What force; indeed, what individual could have been so powerful as to kill him? The Demon alone had managed to destroy one of the holy rings, as well as one of the Prophets. Yet, this warrior had been fallen. But by whom?

A sickening thought came across Sadhal's mind.

The girl...could it have been her? But why would she kill members of her own species? And if she was capable of taking the demon out...did he even stand a chance?

Sadhal noticed the beam rifle lying near the body.

Taking a step forward, Sadhal kept his weapon up. He would need the rifle, and it was best to at least check and ensure he was dead.

He stepped closer to the Demon, unsure what exactly to do. The Beam rifle was on the other side. Carefully, cautiously, he pointed the rifle at the Demon's head, ready to fire at the moment he moved. But the Demon remained still, his limbs limp. It was now that Sadhal noticed a significant dent in the chest plate. Whatever had hit him had done so with great force, possibly killing him. There were cracks all over the armor, as well as burn marks everywhere. It was quite obvious the Demon had just come from extensive combat.

The shield shimmered as the coolant continued to drop on the Demon, still remaining active. It was a miracle it was still working considering the incredible punishment the armor had taken. But then, knowing what the Demon had done and how he had done it, Sadhal wasn't really surprised.

He glanced at the Beam rifle, and then stretched over the body to reach it. He stole another glance at the Demon to check whether or not he was moving before looking back at the rifle...

...only to find himself staring right down the length of the barrel.

"Don't move."

The demon spoke out from next to him, his voice low, yet strained.

Sadhal was about to say something when the Demon coughed, and then dropped the rifle suddenly. His hand went limp and his body visibly stiffened in pain.

Sadhal simply took a step back and looked at the Demon, the plans of the getting the rifle out of his head. Instead, he simply raised the plasma rifle and prepared to fire.

The Demon, for his part, simply looked at Sadhal for a second, before he gave a slow nod and asked.

"You saw her...didn't you?"

The question...Sadhal looked at the Demon in surprise. He was unsure what to reply at this point. The Demon – he should just simply kill him here and now, ending a major problem for the Covenant. It was because of the Demon, that the prophet had died, that the elites had been removed. It was all because of him! And yet...yet what he had said about the little girl...

"Yes...who is she? What is she?" Sadhal asked, softly.

The Demon only turned his head to look at the wreckage. He raised his left hand slightly, pointing to it. Before whispering softly.

"Her name is Alma...He knows what she is..."

Sadhal looked at where the Demon was pointing in the wreckage. He could make out a body there; one dressed in grey and white and some unknown type of uniform that he hadn't seen before. The person was half-buried under the debris, but his eyes were not visible through the mask he was wearing, not allowing it to be clear whether he was alive or dead.

"Help him...he can stop her..."

With that, the Demon's head turned back to Sadhal. He didn't move. Rather than argue the point, Sadhal simply lowered his weapon and slowly walked towards the wreckage.

Why was he helping the Demon? Why couldn't he simply kill him right then and there itself? He had absolutely no reason to help him here. Yet...he was doing it. Yet, he had not killed the Demon. And yet, he was now going to help another Terran.

He thought to himself. It was because he no longer had a reason to kill the Demon. The Prophets had led them along this journey all along, and had betrayed them at the end. The Elites had been at their side for so long, only to be cast away in favour of the Brutes...and then, all of them had been murdered in cold blood.

All the other Elites could only think of the Terrans as an enemy. But he had had time in his cell...time to think, to contemplate. The Terrans i were /i the enemy, but now so were the Prophets. Sadhal remembered an expression thought to him by his commanders, one that had rung quite true when it came to internal politics and the like. 'The enemy of my Enemy is my friend, even if only temporarily.'

The humans were determined to stop the Prophets. Maybe...just maybe, this was the opportunity that he had been waiting for. The chance for revenge that he so desperately desired.

And then, there was that little girl.

That little girl had killed everyone.

That little girl, if let loose, would kill everyone. But then...did Sadhal actually care anymore about such things?

Then he remembered the Brutes, and how they died. He quietly shuddered at the memory. No...Nobody deserved to die like that.

But still, he had his questions. And unless he could find answers soon, he would have to deal with these humans one way or the other.

When Sadhal got to the rubble, he began to clear out the debris surrounding the human and then pulled him out. The human was unconscious, but still breathing, judging from the sound on the respirator.

Draping the man on one shoulder, he carried him back to the Demon and placed him alongside. Turning to the Demon, he spoke, asking him the question that had been burning in his mind till now.

"What are you doing here, Demon? How did you get onboard?"

The Demon, who had been looking at the door till now, simply looked up and stared at Sadhal.

Getting frustrated, Sadhal spoke louder, taking a step forward and raising his rifle, pointing it at the Demon.

"Answer me now, Demon, with the truth. If you want my help against this...Alma."

The Demon considered this for a moment and then slowly nodded.

"I Followed the Prophet from High Charity so that I could kill him before he activated Halo."

Straight to the point and the utter truth.

Sadhal only nodded in reply and lowered the weapon. He replied

"That is all I need to know."

The lights suddenly flickered around them. Sadhal took a step back, alarmed. He raised his rifle.

Then something grabbed his leg, pulling him down. Looking down, he was shocked to see the human he had just removed from the Debris had grabbed it.

His grip was vice-like, and Sadhal was unable to shake it. The human simply looked up at him and whispered.

"She's coming..."

The lights flickered again. And to his shock and horror, Sadhal heard a soft, high-pitched laugh of a little girl behind him.

"Move!"

Sadhal's reflexes took over immediately, responding to the command and leaping to the side almost instantly.

He was just in time as a purple beam of light streaked forth in the place he was occupying a few thousands of a second ago. It struck something behind him, however, giving off a flash of heat. The laughter he had heard just a minute ago vanished, leaving only silence in the air. He smelt burnt ashes, coming from somewhere behind him.

Rolling and coming back up, he looked around, rifle at the ready. This girl…this Alma…they would need some sort of protection from her. But how? She apparently had the ability to go anywhere she wished and kill from a distance. What could possibly stop her?

Then Sadhal remembered the force field in the other cell block. It had held her off – if at least for a little while. He had noticed a cell block still operational earlier. If they could get inside and activate the force field, it i could /i just work here.

His thoughts were interrupted however, as several black vortices began to form on his right side near the door. He could hear several screams coming from them as the humanoid forms he had seen before began to emerge.

The first one streaked across space, towards him – coming in too fast for him to react in time.

When it was just a meter away from him however, Sadhal heard a loud explosion from somewhere behind him and the thing vaporized almost completely. Glancing back, he saw the uniformed human holding a smoking pistol in hand.

The Human's reflexes had to be amazing to get that shot off – better than any covenant Elite's, in fact. The fact that he hit as well was quite amazing. Still, he had to press on. Turning back, he shouted "Cover me!" before running towards a nearby control panel.

To his right, more vortices formed and more figures started to come out from them. By this time, the lights above them were flickering at a constant rate, casting the entire cell block into moments of near-pitch black and then light, making it appear as though the figure were moving in slow motion. The only lights came from the gunfire behind him, and the storm outside.

Both the Demon and the human opened fire at the vortices; taking out the beings before they could get near to Sadhal. He covered the distance to the control panel within three seconds. Taking a quick glance at the cell blocks, he saw that the crash had destroyed the controls for most of the cell's projectors – with exception of the empty cell.

Then the panel flickered on and off, and a Vortex opened to his immediate right. There was no time to react as immediately, a form came out and hit him dead on the side. It pushed him a distance, but Sadhal hanged onto the control panel. The shields flared to life, blocking the creature from going through. It simply vaporized to ashes, leaving him mostly intact. He looked at where the Vortex was and blinked. He should have been dead by now, judging from what had happened to the Brutes.

Could it be the shields had saved them till now? It could be entirely possible. After all, only the elites were the ones who used them. The Brutes realized on their in-bred toughness, while the Grunts and Jackals their superior numbers. Perhaps their failing would now be Sadhal's advantage. However, from what the impact had felt, the shields had been knocked down a fair bit. He could survive a hit or two, but after that he would be at the mercy of the beings.

Quickly catching his balance, he continued to work at the controls, setting the force field timer to activate for one minute, and then to deactivate after thirty minutes. It should buy them some time.

Turning around, he saw that the vortices were no longer focusing on him, but rather on the Demon and the other Human now. Both were firing at the beings, whom were now pouring out non-stop. The Demon wielded had abandoned the beam rifle – it's charge long since empty, and instead had switched to using a plasma pistol and brute plasma rifle combination.

The other human, for his part, continued to shoot with the pistol, stopping every few seconds to reload. But not one of the beings seemed to target him – those that made it past all flew over, going straight for the Demon.

Sadhal didn't need to be told anything, and started to fire from his end of the room instead. The high pitch noise and plasma weapons and pistols filled the air in the block.

He ran towards them, firing all the way. Their seemed to be no end in sight to the Vortices, and the high-pitched scream as they emitted the beings simply got louder every second. His shields managed to recharge along the way, which was good. He stopped shooting so that the others would hear him as he pointed at the Cell and shouted.

"In the cell! Get in there now!"

The Demon didn't look at him, but slowly began to get up. He visibly stiffened in pain as he did so, but for the most part, within two seconds he was able to stagger to his feet and was firing upon the beings once more.

Sadhal, for his part, simply leapt forwards and underneath the Demon's plasma cannon fire, coming up next to the other human that had lain there. The Human tried to get up, but was unable to. Sadhal grabbed him and tossed him over his shoulder, ignoring the cry of pain the human uttered as he did so.

He then ran as fast as he could towards the cell, with the Demon in close pursuit. They both dived into the cell nearly a second later, followed by several beings. However, the cell force field came up just before they were able to enter, cutting them off as they rammed into it, evaporating nearly instantly. Sadhal dropped the Human at the end of the cell, and then turned around to face the containment field. The Demon was already facing it, pointing his weapons at it, just in case any came through.

And then the flickering outside intensified…and the force field went off.

Much to both parties annoyance, both Sadhal and the Demon cursed at the same time. It had been a good plan, but now they were stuck here with virtually no means of defense.

Then it flickered back on again. And then off. And then on again. This time, however, it stayed on for the most part. Both parties kept their weapons at bay and waited. The Vortices stopped spawning outside the force field and the high-pitched scream disappeared, leaving only the loud howl of the storm outside.

The flickering of the lights stopped, and they came on at full strength. They could now see the amount of damage they had done to the room. The walls and ceilings near the door were almost completely covered in burn marks from the plasma, and some sections of the outer wall had melted away exposing the electronics behind.

The smell of burnt metal was ripe in the air, approaching choking levels. From the looks of it, they would not be able to stay here much longer.

"Do you think she's gone?" Sadhal asked, not taking his eyes off the force field.

"Perhaps." The Demon replied, but nonetheless, he didn't lower his weapon.

"What were those?"

"Unsure. Shields can stop one or two, armor is useless." The Demon only shook his head.

He continued, stopping to take a breath.

"Will the force field stop i her /i ?"

Sadhal nodded, he lowered his weapon a bit, but kept it ready, just in case. The Demon followed suit, but neither took their eyes off the force field.

"She tried to attack me in the other cell block, but the force field apparently stopped her. It seemed to have caused her pain, which drove her away."

The lights outside flickered again and the entire ship shook slightly. From outside, they could hear the rumble of thunder from the storm outside. Both men raised their weapons again, ready for anything.

"You were a prisoner?" the Demon asked, not missing a beat.

Sadhal paused, unsure what exactly to say to the Demon. Instinct compelled him not to give out information to this human; as was protocol.

But these circumstances were far from protocol, and after how the prophets had betrayed them….He shook his head and replied, sadly.

"I was on the ship's engineering section when the Brutes came to take over. The Prophet ordered me to be imprisoned for the time being."

"Where would the Prophet be? The Bridge?" The Demon asked.

"Assuming Alma hasn't killed her, yes." Sadhal looked at the Demon suspiciously.

"Why do you ask?"

"I have to finish my mission." The Demon replied, simply.

"And what would that be?"

"To kill him before he activates Halo."

Sadhal stepped back a bit at this.

"Activate the sacred rings? From here? How is that even possible?"

The lights flickered once more outside the cell, drawing their attention.

The Demon simply glanced back at him before replying.

"Not from here. The ark. If he activates the ring, everyone dies."

Sadhal frowned at this. How could that be possible? From the beginning of the Covenant, the holy text had guided them and the prophets, driving them on with the promise of the great journey. How could that all be a lie? He simply could not believe it!

"But the great journey – " Sadhal started, only to be cut off by the Demon as he spoke.

"- Is a lie. The Forerunners used it to destroy all source of food for the flood, inclusive of all sentient life. Activate it, and everyone in the galaxy dies."

Sadhal simply stared at the Demon, who didn't look back. How could that be true? The texts? The prophets? Had they been lied to for centuries?

"But the prophets…the texts..." Sadhal muttered, unsure what to say.

"The Prophets have betrayed you. A Civil war is raging on high charity now between the Brutes and the Elites."

i A Civil war? /i Sadhal thought, attempting to grasp the entire thing. The Council would never order a civil war, especially not against the Covenant….at least, not unless…could the Council have been murdered?

The thought came by so fast, Sadhal nearly staggered at it's implications, and of how deep this treachery really went.

"Those traitors…" he muttered to himself. The prophets would pay.

Suddenly, the lights shut down, plunging them into darkness and shutting down the forcefield. Both of them visibly tensed, raising their weapons and getting ready for anything. The Demon turned on a flashlight built into the helmet, lighting up the area ahead of them. Sadhal could make out the edge of a vortex to the side, but then it immediately vanished. One of the humanoid beings appeared and turned the corner, but immediately evaporated as both fired their weapons at it.

"Later. We have other concerns now." The Demon interrupted him. Sadhal only nodded. This was not good.

A full three seconds later, the lights came back on, along with the force field. Other than that one, no other of the beings appeared. Sadhal breathed a sigh of relief.

"Who is this Alma? i What /i is she?" He asked again, not taking his eyes off the force field.

The Demon shrugged, only nodding his head to the person behind them. "He knows. It's about time we asked him about it, though."

Sadhal nodded.

Much to the annoyance of both men again, they turned in unison to face the unknown human. The first thing they noticed, however, was not the way the human was simply starting at them, his expression indiscernible through the gas mask. Neither was it the way he was limply seated, leaning back against the wall, both arms flayed to the side and limp.

They first thing they saw was none of that. The first thing they saw was the little girl that was standing behind them; dressed in a short white skirt which had several red smudges on it.

And then, the lights flickered again, and went dark.

A bright flash and loud explosion broke the silence and the darkness, lighting up the cell for a brief second, illuminating the human that had sat there. It came from the pistol in his hand, and in the small cell, it forced the noise filters to come on inside John's helmet.

Time slowed down for John as he saw the girl slowly evaporate again into thin air, her ashes falling to the ground, much like petals in the wind, and then disappearing before they touched it.

Then he saw the bullet fly through where she had been standing. It flew through the air, and continued on its course, uninterrupted. John followed it as it streaked by, and then ricocheted out towards the exit.

And then the lights came back on, along with the force field. He watched as it bounced off the field, coming back at an exact one-eighty degree angle. John could only watch and couldn't move in time to stop it. The entire thing – the bullet's speed, the reaction time – all of it, it just felt i wrong /i in so many ways it was nerve-wracking.

And then there was the pain. The pain in his stomach, chest and back was so intense; John was amazed he was still alive, much less standing. He had already checked the vital signs and medical reports on the HUD, but pushed it aside. It was good luck, and now he had to use it.

The bullet moved back in the same path it had come, all the way back to the soldier that was laying there. Time then sped back up to normal speed, as if the encounter was over.

The bullet hit the soldier in his arm, right above the shoulder, forcing out a cry of pain as it did. The armor in the area had been tattered, badly damaged and did absolutely nothing to stop the bullet from penetrating through.

Reacting quickly, John moved towards the soldier, nodding at the Elite to cover him while he did so. He didn't say anything, but rather went down on one knee, ignoring as best as he could the burst of pain that erupted throughout his lower back.

Examining the bullet wound, the Master Chief immediately went to work. He removed the armor around the area, and then tore off some of the soldier's uniform and then tied the piece around the wound, using it as a tourniquet to cut off the blood flow. But it didn't work. The blood continued to flow out of the wound, snaking around the soldier's arms and pooling up on the floor and smearing his armor. For his part, the soldier was either unconscious, or held the pain as he didn't respond at all.

"How is he?" The Elite asked from behind him.

Looking at the wound, John attempted to see where the bullet had gone. He saw it had managed to penetrate significantly, hitting an artery. At this rate of bleeding, the soldier would be dead within minutes.

It began to subside slightly a second later, however, as the tourniquet began to have some effect.

"Not good."

John glanced at the Soldier. He still couldn't be sure if the soldier was conscious or not. In either case, he had to be in great pain right now. Unfortunately, it was only going to get worse.

"Brace yourself." He said to the soldier before looking back at the wound itself.

Making it as quick as possible, John put his fingers in and then pulled out the bullet.

Surprisingly, the soldier didn't react at all. Either he was unconscious completely, or he was dead. John seriously hoped for the former. At least then they had a chance of reviving him.

Holding the bullet in one hand, he examined it. The caliber was far, far different than any UNSC bullet in use. Glancing at the pistol, he realized that the pistol wasn't anything they used as well. It seemed old, i too /i old. For the second time, John pondered for a second: where had this soldier come from?

Then the second thought crept into his mind…the aircraft they had come on. Could it be possible the question was not i where /i …but i when? /i

Pushing the thought aside for now, John noticed that the blood flow was cutting out. He quickly tore off some more pieces of cloth from the uniform, and then tied it around the wound. Hopefully, he should survive this engagement. But it was doubtful, to say the least. They needed a proper med bay or medical facilities and a doctor to make sure.

"Don't bother too much tying it…" The soldier spoke up, softly. John looked at him in surprise. Had he really been conscious? How was that even possible?

Still, he didn't question it. Rather, he turned around to the Elite that was standing guard.

"How far is the nearest medical facility from here?" John asked.

The Elite didn't turn back as he replied.

"Two decks down, and across the ship. We can make it there within a few minutes if we skip the lifts and use the ladders."

John nodded and looked back at the soldier. The soldier didn't look back however, instead staring only at the Elite.

"Who….are you? i What /i is he?" he asked, gasping for breath.

Those two questions simply confirmed John's earlier thoughts. However, the possibilities that came with it disturbed him greatly. If it was true, then it meant that the UNSC was in far, far greater trouble than previously expected.

"I should be asking you the same question." John paused, and then continued. "What was the date last time you checked?"

The soldier simply looked up at him blankly. His breathing heavy, he didn't say anything for a few seconds. Finally, though, he asked, more than replied.

"Time travel?"

It was simple and yet, told so much more. Then he simply shook his head.

"Doesn't matter…I don't have long. Alma….she must be responsible for this."

Again, Alma. John interrupted him before he could go on.

"Hold on. Start from the beginning."

The soldier simply nodded and spoke.

"I am part of a special operations team working for the United States Army, twenty-first century, assuming the time-frame to here is correct. The unit was called First Encounter Assault Recon – FEAR for short. We were sent to apprehend a suspect and neutralize an army of cloned soldiers. Unfortunately, the suspect's main intention was to find and release Alma."

The soldier paused…as if unsure what to say next.

"Alma….she was a very powerful psychic. A corporation headed by her father used her in an attempt to create a psychic commander. She was taken to a vault, where she was inseminated with an embryo, which was then allowed to gestate long enough to develop and acquire her latent powers. After the second prototype was created, they shut down the project and sealed the vault."

"What happened to Alma?" John asked. This story was fine and good, but they needed to get to the point.

The soldier looked away.

"She was locked in the vault when the life support was shut down…..the records said she died eight days later."

John stood up and took a step back in shock, suddenly realizing the full extent of what had happened, and of what was happening now. If Alma had died….how had she come here? How was she capable of such things?

The Soldier continued on, however, not giving him a chance to speak.

"When the vault was opened up again several years later, a synchronicity event occurred, and she somehow managed to gain control of the second prototype before they locked it again. The suspect then headed back to her, in an attempt to open up the vault. But in the end, her father opened it…she was going to escape, but the Vault was destroyed. I managed to escape the vault onboard a helicopter…and then…she appeared, and this freak storm hit us. A second later, before she could kill anyone, we hit something….I think you know the story after that."

The soldier looked back at John.

"She's died so long ago…but the rage…the anger, the i horror /i …of what happened…she cant forget it…she i wont /i ...and now she wants to kill everyone for it. Theirs no way i we /i can stop her…"

John didn't reply, but when the Soldier did not go on, he spoke up.

"You said the second prototype 'synchronized' with her…what about the first? Could he or she help us?"

The soldier didn't reply, and instead looked away.

Suspicion began to creep up in John's mind. This soldier wasn't telling him something. Rather than waste time, he asked him straight to his face.

"It's you…isn't it?"

The soldier didn't look back, but instead replied.

"What's the first thing you remember? Is it your childhood…or the words being said as you were born…"

His tone was low, soft and filled with sadness.

"The first thing I remember…were the words uttered by Alma's father. 'You will be a God amongst men.'…and her screams, as she asked for her baby back…and after that…. i nothing. /i "

He finally looked back at John. And although the mask covered his face, John could feel the sadness behind those eyes, and in the tone as he spoke.

"I cannot remember my life….my journey…even though I know it was there…her thoughts…her tragedy…I can feel her mind…I can feel as she asks, as she struggles to feel mine. But she can't…she never will…."

John just shook his head. This changed everything. With this soldier, they might have a chance against Alma…but they needed to get him to help fast.

The lights began to flicker once again, and glancing back, John saw that the force field was flickering as well. He saw the Elite had been listening in as well. But he had said nothing as of yet.

"We should get moving." The Elite spoke, nodding towards the force field. John nodded back and turned to the soldier.

"My back's gone – I can't walk. You must leave me." The solder spoke, cocking the pistol and then pushing himself up with the good arm.

John shook his head.

"No – we'll need you to help again –"

"You don't get it, do you?" the soldier interrupted him, mid-sentence.

"She's coming…she's coming for i me /i . I can feel her…if I go with you, she will follow, and then you will all die. Everyone will die."

He swallowed, wheezing a bit. John just looked at him, unsure what to ask. Finally, he spoke after a few minutes.

"How do we stop her?"

The soldier sadly shook his head.

" i We /i can't stop her…."

He paused, looking outside the cell door. Then he looked to the left, in the direction of the helicopter, and the storm outside.

"….but i it /i can."

"And what, human, is i it? /i " The Elite asked from behind John, obviously as curious as him about the entire affair.

"I don't know…but I can feel it…it's here…and it wants what was denied to it…it wants i her… /i " the soldier replied. He was about to go on when the lights began to flicker again and then went out completely, taking the force field with them.

The soldier's voice became nervous as he continued.

"She's coming back…leave…leave now, before it's too late. I'll keep her occupied long enough for you to go…"

John slowly nodded, and took a painful step back. Every fiber of his being wanted to save the soldier, but the soldier was right, and there was little that could be done of the situation. The soldier had been right in the fact that he would have slowed them down significantly. And then there was the mission, which still needed to be completed.

"Good luck." John replied softly. The Soldier nodded and gave a short salute.

The Elite did not say anything, instead, he cautiously moved towards the entrance of the cell. The plasma rifle raised, he peeked around the corner and then turned back to John, nodding to indicate it was safe. The Elite then turned to the soldier, and spoke.

"You are very brave to face her alone, human. A sign of a worthy warrior, indeed."

The soldier didn't reply, but again, simply nodded.

With that, John picked up the Plasma rifles from the ground and got up. He nodded to the Elite.

"We need a way off this ship."

The Elite nodded. "There should be a fighter still available in the fighter bay. But we cannot open the exit it from the bay itself. We need to get to the bridge. Follow me."

The Elite turned and ran out towards the exit. John glanced one last time at the Soldier and then followed suit.

He watched them run off, leaving him alone.

The lights flickered on and off again. But it did not matter, he would wait. She would come for him, and end this.

He wondered, for a second, what the storm was. Watching as the lightning from the storm light up the block outside the cell door, he realized that he could feel it. It was at a corner of his mind, almost invisible...but he could feel the tiny impression it left. It was just sitting there….watching...waiting…..

And then the lights came back on, bringing up the force field, and the presence was gone, as swiftly as it had come. He closed his eyes, unsure what to do. He couldn't move, and he could hardly fight. The truth about Alma, about his past…the thoughts, the shock was still reeling through his mind.

i Alma… /i he thought to himself….

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the lights had gone out along with the force field again.

Again, he felt a presence in his mind. But this one….this one seemed different. It didn't feel like Alma's. This one…it somehow seemed i stronger… /i than Alma's – if that was even possible. It tried to wander through his mind, reach into his thoughts, but then, for some reason, it pulled back and disappeared.

But what was it? Could it have been Alma? If it was, she must have grown stronger. But how?

Then he heard it.

It wasn't much at first – just a low scratching noise, coming from just outside the door. Quickly raising his pistol, he brought it to bear at the entrance, prepared for anything. The scratching noise grew louder, as if something was shuffling about.

A flash of lightning light up the cell block again from the outside. With all the lights off, it temporarily blinded him, causing him to blink. When he opened his eyes, however, he saw i it, /i standing in the entrance, silhouetted against the background of the block.

He had never seen anything like it. It was an organic creature of sorts – small, and around the size of a football. A dull beige color, it seemed to somehow hover over the ground, supporting itself on small, tiny green tentacles, much like a jelly fish. Indeed, the entire primary structure gave it the appearance of a Portuguese man of war.

It just stood there for a second, before it slowly started to move toward him.

And then it exploded as he fired at it with the pistol. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked down, reloading the pistol and throwing the empty clip to the side.

There was another shuffling noise, attracting his attention again. When he looked up there were two more of the things at the entrance of the cell, and were rapidly moving towards him.

"What the…" he said, before raising the pistol and firing again, taking out both in quick succession. They exploded, spraying droplets of green stuff all over the entrance of the cell.

And then the shuffling sound came again - but this time it was louder. Another of the creatures appeared near the entrance and made a quick dash for him, covering the distance in insane speed.

But he was faster, and the creature exploded not two meters away from him.

More began to appear near the entrance – this time an entire group of them. Not pausing, he shot at the lead one, which exploded, which caused two of the ones next to it to explode as well. But the rest kept coming, keeping up the suicidal charge at him.

He didn't stop firing, trying his best to take out as many of them as possible. As the bullet hit, each kept exploding, deafening him to an extent. The entire group seem to be getting closer – yet, fortunately, smaller.

They reached barely a meter away when the last one tried to leap at him – only to be destroyed in mid air. Looking at the entrance and breathing heavily, he kept the pistol at the ready, in case more showed up.

And they did….or rather, i one /i did.

It stood at the entrance, in a pool of it's companions' blood. It just stood there for a second, as if considering where to go. Then, it started to rapidly move towards him. He aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger.

i Click /i

Looking at the pistol he cursed. What a time to run out of ammunition. There was just i one /i of the things – he bet he could've just punched it to death, for heaven's sake!

Tossing the pistol in the air, he caught it by the barrel and then carefully took aim, waiting for the creature to leap at him.

It closed the gap rapidly, and then when it hit the final meter, he leapt up towards him. Using the moment, he threw the pistol, end over end straight at the creature.

And then he was horrified, as it simply grazed past and went flying through the air and out the cell block.

The thing continued unfazed…and landed right on his leg.

It bit into the leg, but he couldn't feel it, and instead saw it grab and dig into the leg. He tried moving the other, but paralyzed as he was, he couldn't even reach down and hit the damn thing as it was out of arm's reach.

Then a sharp, searing pain made its way up his back, forcing him to scream out in pain as he felt the same presence he had felt earlier creep into his mind, this time stronger than before. The presence had a voice, this time, however, and it spoke to him, its voice reverberating through his mind far, far louder than the screams did.

i

Your mind is filled with memories…stories of unimaginable horror and pain;

For you have witnessed the fate of things, from beyond the grave;

…….She haunts your mind and thoughts…..using them as a tool to let loose her hate;

But little does she know…..that we are all but mere tools and toys of fate;

You shall become my vassal…the instrument upon which fate plays its hand;

For the storm has come to claim what it was denied…to complete its great errand;

The fate of many…will soon be torn apart and cast asunder;

But together….we shall stop this storm's great thunder…..

/i

"Bumbling idiots, the lot of you! Can't you get i anything /i right!" Prophet Truth exclaimed, as he looked at the Brutes near the control panel.

He was seated in the anti-gravity throne, right in the middle of the bridge, and things were now falling apart around him. The bridge itself was large, around 10 meters wide, and 8 long. Mostly circular, it had a dome-like structure on the top, with a bright white light at its very centre. The bridge itself was split into several sections. The outer ring as such, was the lowest, with two entrances into the bridge on one side, and a massive screen on the other. The floor was soft, and a dark blue. All around the ring here, guards were posted, and several square doors on either side led to the neighboring rooms. The consoles between the doors glowed bright blue in color.

In the middle of this was another ring, which was around two feet higher than the outer one, with some steps leading into it. It was red in color, with several consoles lining it. These glowed red as well, matching the floor quite easily. There were three steps leading up – one on either side, with exception of the screen. This ring was lined by a railing in the gaps between the consoles and stairs.

But in the middle of the entire room, another two feet above the inner ring was the centre most one. It rose towered up above the rest of the bridge, allowing for a full view of all the proceedings. It was here that the Prophet hovered alone in his chair. There were only two steps to his left and right that led up to the platform, while the rest of it was surrounded by a railing. Their once might have been a chair here, but it had since been removed, only to be replaced by a single, circular control panel.

Right now, however, he was more focused on the activity at one of the consoles near the exits, where a group of Brutes had gathered and stood at attention facing him. One of the Brutes, in particular, had a red flag attached to the harness and headdress he wore. This was their squad commander, head of the guard detail that had replaced the Elite's.

"Where are the guards that were sent to engineering? They should have reported back by now! I demand an answer now, Chieftain, or I shall have your head for this!"

For his part, the Chieftain only bowed and replied quickly.

"Not one of them has reported back, holy prophet. The storm is interfering with all the systems and communications are down since we were hit. Their may be an intruder on board that is capable of nullifying our troops, probably the Demon."

The Prophet didn't say a thing, and instead turned around and looked at the screen again. The storm raged on it, constantly turning and shifting every second. How it had managed to keep up with them so far had been up to question. It had been questionable – i were they even moving? /i Unfortunately, that answer seemed to elude them as almost every sensor system had gone out once they had entered the storm.

This damning storm! It raged and churned and boiled, threatening to destroy anything in it's path – and yet it seemed like they were not the only ones in it. Something had hit them earlier, taking out all the internal sensors, leaving them essentially completely blind, deaf and dumb. Worse still were the power outages that kept hitting the bridge. At least they had backup power available, allowing them to compensate when the power went out.

And now there was the possibility of the Demon on board. This did not bode well for the great journey, not at all. He had to get to the Ark, and find out the truth of all this. But the Demon…he only wished to destroy it. He had killed his bumbling brother, Regret, after the latter had invaded the Demon's home planet and then gone to the ring.

And now, oddly, Truth was in the same situation. If the Demon i was /i on board, however, it would mean significant trouble.

"Is the force field around the bridge section still online?" He asked, not turning back.

"Yes, yes it is." The commander replied.

"Excellent. Gather all the soldiers you have on this deck, and prepare to take a hunting party down – find the Intruder and kill him. Leave half a squad of guards behind to protect this place."

The commander nodded and then kneeled before him.

"I will not fail you, holy one." He then got up and turned around, heading for the exit.

The Prophet called after him, interrupting their march out.

"Do not return to me without the intruder's head, or else I shall make sure to have yours."

The Commander simply nodded and left.

Truth merely looked back at the screen again, and the storm. This was getting incredibly frustrating, to say the least.

He looked down at his console, at the information he had uncovered. The location of the Ark had been found from the Oracle only by his brother, Mercy. The fact, however, that it was on Earth troubled him, and troubled him deeply.

Why had the forerunners left the Ark on such a planet? The way the oracle was reported to have spoken to the humans, addressing them as the 'Reclaimers'. It worried him deeply. Such a discovery alone was enough to shake the foundation of the Covenant, should the elites have ever found out. So far, the Covenant had gone on in the hope and belief that they were indeed the chosen ones by the gods, the one who would go on the Great journey to salvation, just as the Forerunners did.

But what was the Humans' role in all of this? The Forerunners apparently knew the humans before they had left, and should the Oracle be believed, they were meant to reclaim the technology. But the Covenant had had the right to do so, and indeed, had done it first.

Questions continued to plague his mind as he searched for the Truth. The answers would most likely lie within the Ark itself. But according to the records they had found, the Ark had been buried in the planet by the Forerunners. They had gotten the co-ordinates by the Forerunners, so getting there had been no problem till they encountered the storm.

Now, they appeared to be stuck, their position unknown and their velocity doubtful, at best.

Truth looked at the information again, this time bringing up the information gathered from the human's computers. He had checked the location with the data, cross-referencing with the location of cities on the planet.

Apparently, the humans had built some sort of massive structure over where the Ark was supposed to be, and earlier sensor readings had shown massive radiation readings from it all over the spectrum. No human lived their, for it had been a place of disaster, according to their history, not once, but i twice /i , and both times it had been incredibly tragic.

Could this have been fate at play? A mere co-incidence, perchance? Or had it been something far more sinister? In either case, the location made the prophet uncomfortable as he went through the reports and pictures of humans dying of radiation poisoning, and of the devastation of buildings in the area around the incident. It had become a graveyard twice, betraying it's people each time. Everyone that had come there had died in some way or the other…and now, they were headed there as well.

The humans called it Chernobyl; a place of disaster, bad luck, and nothing but death, where the silence that permeated the air was so powerful, it could kill by itself.

And it was here, that the key to their salvation was held…

i or is it the key to our doom? /i the prophet thought to himself.

In either case, they would soon discover the truth, regardless of what happened.

John ran down the corridor after the Elite, ignoring the pain that erupted throughout his body. He had been through worse before, and the mission still needed to be completed.

It still mystified him, how such a small girl could do so much damage. What horrors i had /i she actually gone through, that had led to such an outcome? It worried him, what she was capable of. He classified it as a new threat, one that needed to be eliminated before he left the ship. If Alma got off, there was no telling what damage she was capable of doing to Earth. The soldier had mentioned earlier, that there was something here...or someone, that was capable of stopping her. He had to find it.

Ahead of him, the elite turned into the corridor where John had killed the Jackals earlier. Turning into the corridor after him, John nearly ran into the Elite as he stood there.

Looking around him, John raised his rifle, ready to for anything. Looking back to make sure Alma wasn't there, he asked.

"What's wrong?"

The Elite nodded at the corridor in front.

"The Bodies. Their gone."

Looking past him, John realized the Elite was right. The bodies were no longer there. Only the weapons and shields lay where John had left them.

"Alma must have destroyed them" John remarked, but then realized something.

"If she did...then where is the blood?" The Elite replied, indicating the lack of blood anywhere near where the bodies had lain. Instead, the Elite raised his haid and sniffed the air, frowning. John himself couldn't smell a thing – the helmet was on environmental support; filtering all the air that came in.

"That stench. It cannot be natural."

The Elite walked forwards cautiously, the Master Chief followed, turning around to keep a sharp eye on their back.

He glanced out the window at the storm raging outside. This storm...where had it come from? What i was /i it? It had hit the soldier, bringing not only him, but Alma here as well. It had to be here for some reason, some purpose.

Then he heard something behind him. It wasn't more than a scratching noise, but to John, it was more than enough for him to whirl around and bring both guns to bear. But when he looked, there was nothing. Cautiously, he turned back around to face the Elite and the corridor. Suddenly, the hud displays in his helmet flickered, and went dead.

i Alma... /i he thought to himself. He accelerated the turn to look for the elite and warn him.

...only to find it gone.

He backpedaled, raising the rifles. There was a corridor in front of him, no doubt, but it wasn't the one that he had seen a second ago.

This was one plain and long. The floor was tiled in white marble, while the walls were plain white and made of concrete, as opposed to the alien metal he had seen just now. The sterilized smell of hospital floors hit his nostrils, despite the air filters. Looking around, he noticed that the walls had blood spattered all over them.

But what actually i scared /i him the most, was what was at the end of it. At the end of the corridor, several meters ahead of him, was an object he hadn't seen since the days of his training.

The last time he had seen it was after the augmentation phase of the Spartan II program. Of the 75 members that had gone through it, 30 had died. During the funeral, he had seen some of the 12 of the surviving members (some of them in wheelchairs) in these vats being pulled away.

The thing was large and cylindrical. It was filled almost completely with a green liquid that emitted an eerie glow onto the corridor around it.

He took a step back. This i couldn't /i be happening. Not here, not i now. /i

i John... /i

That single word, that single whisper sent chills down his spine, and brought to his mind a fear that he had felt only a few times before. He didn't hear it, so much as he i felt /i it reverberate through his bones, through his very soul.

In shock, in horror, he stepped back. Unsure what to do, he raised his rifle and opened fire, closing his eyes and just blindly firing, screaming out at it almost uncontrollably. It only gave a laugh as it disappeared, fading away into nothingness.

And then something i changed. /i He opened his eyes.

He was back in the corridor, just behind the Elite, looking at the corridor behind him.

Alma...it had to be Alma. She must be doing this to him. John could not help but feel a bit of fear in this scenario. He was almost helpless against Alma – she overrode all physical defenses he had, and everything they had thrown at her. To top it off, she was now playing with his mind.

Then John brought himself under control. He reigned in the thoughts, and remembered why he was here. He couldn't afford to loose control here. It would mean failing the mission, and all those that had died till now. It was something he couldn't afford. No matter what Alma did, he couldn't let himself loose control like that.

But then...that vat...what it represented to him brought only chills down his spines. Pushing away the thoughts however, he tried to focus on what the Elite was saying.

"Are you all right – you didn't respond." the Elite turned and asked him. John simply nodded.

"Alma is getting more aggressive. She just pulled some form of illusion on my mind. We need to get off this ship."

The Elite nodded, turned around and began to run. Glancing back, John began to follow.

As they ran past the windows, the storm boiled and raged outside. If one were to look carefully enough, they would find the patterns extremely interesting. For this was no ordinary storm, that much was for sure.

If one were to look carefully near the window area, they would find these patterns merging and re-enforcing each other in one particular area just outside of it. Each part, each wave of the pattern was chaotic, random, yet seemingly fitting. If one were to go up the scale, and actually looked at the patterns as they came together, they would very easily be able to make out a face in the clouds. A face that moved as it followed the two individuals move past the window slowly and cautiously.

Then, as they went past it and out of sight, the face smiled.

In the cell block that they had left, the cell where they had left the soldier was now empty. The only trace of his existance was the pool of blood that was present where he had lain wounded, mere minutes before.

Indeed, there was no life left inside the block, with the only sounds coming from the howling wind outside, and the constant hum of the lights and other systems as they did their best to work around the damage.

Outside the forcefield that kept the outer atmosphere at bay, the storm raged and churned. The wind beat against the forcefield with all it's might, battering it relentlessly in an attempt to get in. An odd phenomenon, considering that the pressure outside would mean that air would attempt to get out according to logic, and physics.

Yet, it blatantly disobeyed the laws of physics, and battered even harder. The lights flickered on and off again and the ship shook slightly as lightning battered the ship all over.

Looking through the force fields, one could see the lightning as it flashed by once, and then again, and then again. At first, there was one flash as lightning struck past the window, at an unknown target. And then another as it struck back in the opposite direction. The frequency started to increase. From 1 every few seconds, to one every two seconds, to one a second. The roar of the thunder increased as the strikes grew; each one rolling into the other to form a continuous roar that deafened the years. The frequency grew to such proportions that no human mind could count the number of strikes per second.

And then the lights began to flicker again before coming on. Then they flickered again, for several seconds, before finally dying out completely. However, there was no darkness, as the entire block was lit up by the lightning that was present outside.

The roar began to grow in intensity, getting loud enough to shatter the few glass panels that were inside the block. Any living being inside would have had their ears ruptured by the sheer intensity, and elsewhere on the ship, anyone on the same deck would have been able to hear it as a loud explosion.

Then, in what seemed as a final act of release, of climax, a lightning bolt reached out from the cloud, touching and then going through the forcefield with ease. It bypassed it almost completely, and struck the central column square in the centre.

The power of the explosion set the remains of the helicopter ablaze, as well as driving the center of the column outwards, collapsing it and bringing down a fair part of the ceiling with it.

The collapsed remains soon caught fire, sending the entire cell block ablaze. Sirens blared out from everywhere, and the automatic sprinklers came online where they were still intact. However, they were too few and too little to do any difference for this scenario.

The flames intensified further as the wind now fueled them onwards. They roared to life, growing in size and heat as they consumed the helicopter and surrounding material. The howl of the wind permeated through the entire deck, as it blasted through the remains of the door and out into the corridors beyond. In the corridor where the master chief and the elite had just passed, the wind blew away at the remains of the shield and pistols that the jackals had left there, picking them up with a powerful surge and then throwing them against the walls.

In the cell block itself, near the gaping hole that was now no longer protected by the forcefield, something stirred. The flames licked at it, driven back only by the pressure of the wind as it surged forwards. If one were to walk to the very edge of the hole, and indeed, peeked over, they would see only the storm raging below them. The same would be true if they looked up, past the ship's rear.

And then, beyond it itself, the storm suddenly calmed. The cloud's churning began to slow, and the raging began to subside. The edges of the cloud grew thicker as it entered the ship, the cloud mixing in with the smoke from the fire to produce a thick layer of smog around the entrance, and in that section of the cell block itself.

As one looked on, however, they could make out the outline of something that was moving in the fog. The outline soon solidified into a humanoid shape. As it moved forwards, the fires began to grow in intensity, the top of the flames now reaching half-way to the ceiling, almost. The figure's outline and features began to blur again through the cloud of smog and fire as it walked calmly through, ignoring the heat and chaos around it.

It walked through the flames itself, unaffected by them completely. The first thing one would be able to notice as it finally exited the smog in the middle of the room would have been the black boots, as well as the torn and shredded military-grade trousers that the person wore. As the figure emerged from the fog, one could clearly make out that it was male. Wearing a red shirt and a black jacket over it, the man looked ahead at the door way. He stopped for a moment as the lights came on around him, and then flickered and died once more.

Paxton Fettel's expressions grew into that of a rather evil smile.

i Alma... /i he whispered, to nobody in particular. His voice was soft, low and had an icy tone in it. He then took a step forward and his entire body disappeared into ashes as he began to walk forwards.

They approached a set of doors, having run through various corridors for a few minutes now. Sadhal stopped just in front of them. They didn't open. He moved to the panel to the side and mentally cursed.

"The Intruder alert is in place. The lift wont move without authorization from the bridge."

Sadhal said to the Demon, deciding what exactly to do next.

He then placed his hands in the seam of the door, grunting as he pulled it. Within a second the Demon's hands were also in the seam, and pulling the other side. It slowly rolled open, revealing a dark and dim shaft beyond.

The shaft was empty, for the most part. Looking down, Sadhal saw only darkness in the decks below. Alma must have shorted out the lights on those decks. Looking up, he again saw only darkness. It appeared the entire system was down for the most part. Still, he kept a sharp ear out for the elevator in case it appeared. There was no telling what could happen, judging from what Alma Wade was capable of.

He took a careful step to the edge, and looked to the side. Several rungs were built into a small niche on the side of the elevator shaft. Moving along the edge, he reached out and grabbed one. Glancing back, he spoke to the Demon.

"There is a set of rungs to the side. We will have to climb up several decks." The demon only nodded in reply and followed him.

Grabbing the rung, he pulled with all his strength and hoisted himself onto it, swinging out from the side of the elevator. He climbed up slowly, looking up. The higher decks were also shrouded with darkness, the only light coming from the deck they were on now. Fortunately, they wouldn't need to grope in the dark from the shaft, as the internal open controls overrode the intruder lockouts most of the time.

Climbing up, he glanced down as the Demon did the same as him, although with greater difficulty. But he managed and soon was right behind Sadhal.

Such perseverance had to be admired, and Sadhal couldn't help but imagine the Demon making a fine elite, or commander for that matter. In either case, he looked up and continued to climb.

A minute later, Sadhal had made it up to a platform next to the doorway. It was a small niche that allowed for repair of the lift systems, which were located towards that side. It was simply a narrow corridor that wrapped around a pillar and circled around to another set of rungs that led further up.

Sadhal stepped onto the platform, and turned around. The Demon was right behind him and was approaching the platform as well. Sadhal went down on one knee, reaching down to help the Demon up.

That was when a massive roar ripped through the deck they had just left, sending a shockwave through the lift door and then through the shaft. The entire ship rocked, as if hit by something massive, and was soon followed by a loud explosion.

The floor underneath jerked and Sadhal immediately lost his balance, tipping forwards over the edge. He fought with gravity, hanging there for a second and trying his best to lean back. He nearly caught his balance back and was about to pull himself onto the ledge, when something i pushed /i him, however.

He didn't know exactly what it was, or where it came from, but whatever the force was, it was just enough to tip the balance over to gravity, causing him to fall off.

Reaching out for the nearby wall to balance himself was useless, as his body tilted over the edge and gave in, falling off. Sadhal flailed his arms out, hoping to catch the rung of the ladder as he cried out in surprise. As he fell by, within the blink of an eye, the Demon's arm struck out, and caught his hand just as he fell by.

The Demon grunted as he picked up the weight of the heavy elite, and for a second, it looked like the Demon would not be able to hold him. But the grip stayed firm as Sadhal looked down at the inky blackness below. He hung there for a second, and then started to reach for the rungs.

That was when he heard the cracking.

Glancing up, he noticed that the Demon wasn't paying much attention to him, but was instead staring at the wall in front of him. Sadhal looked at what he was staring at, and in turn, simply stared in disbelief.

The wall where the ladder rungs were began to crack, slowly. From the cracks closest to the platform Sadhal had just been on, a red substance began to trickle out. Judging from the color, it seemed to be human blood. The blood continued to spill, moving impossibly fast through the many cracks and crevices inside the wall.

Then, just above the Demon's head, it once again defied physics. The blood trickled sideways, up and then down again, following a series of seams that suddenly formed inside the wall from nowhere. Both of them watched as the curves soon began to form and take shape in that of a number – a human number. 084.

"Fhajad…" the Demon whispered, in shock and awe at the same time.

All this had happened so fast, that neither had time to truly react to the situation. This was especially true when in the next moment; the rung which the Demon was clinging to suddenly creaked, and then gave way along with the entire section of the wall. Sadhal began to fall as the Demon fell backwards along with the rung.

But the Demon's arm immediately let go and reached out for another lower rung, grabbing it. Sadhal lurched to a halt, a death grip on the Demon's hand.

The Demon looked back down to Sadhal. "Hang on!" he said. But as he was doing this, the rung he was holding onto creaked and fell off completely, unable to support the sudden weight placed on it.

He was unable to recover his grip, as gravity took over and he fell off the ladder. And then both plunged into the darkness below.

At the platform where Sadhal had just been standing, along the wall, there was no blood, no cracks that had led to the number appearing. Rather, there was a shadow, one cast by an individual now standing on the platform.

The person's face and body was cast into shadow of the small lights that had been behind him, but one would clearly be able to make out where he was looking, and the smile that formed on his lips.

He then looked up the shaft, at the darkness above. He then took a step forwards and once more disappeared into ashes.

The world was filled in pain and blackness. Yet what surprised him more was the fact that he could still i feel /i that pain, and the fact that it was dark. Yet, it pressed on him, invading his soul and forcing him to stay in it. The pain was from nowhere yet at the same time, anywhere. His body did not ache, for simply, i he /i ached in his entirety, starting from his body, to his very soul.

His mind was awash with thoughts, memories of the past. Memories of those he had left behind, and those he could not rescue. The memories...the pain – it was the worst kind of torture he had seen, and yet, it seemed like i he /i was doing it to himself; his own guilt blasting his mind to bits. It was undescribable in every sense, and one that overloaded the Spartan's mind almost completely.

Some of the memories weren't even his – memories of time and space.

And then, it was gone.

As sudden as it had arrived, the pain faded away into nothingness, leaving a peace, a sort of calmness around him.

"He's coming about." A voice spoke out, somewhere to his side. He recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

John tried to moved himself, but his body ached no matter how little he moved. And his eyes...he opened his eyes to a grey ceiling and bright light, and instinctively closed them again.

"Nurses! Get the lights down in here – be prepared in case he lapses back into shock again."

A voice spoke out from somewhere in the distance. It was coming closer, to him, but was not anyone he had seen before. The lights dimmed, however.

"Vitals are normal. His body's taken a massive beating, but he should be allright. Go ahead and talk to him, Seargent."

John opened his eyes and then looked around, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and neck. He was in a clinic of sorts, with medical equipment surrounding him and displaying all his vital signs.

"Rise and shine, boy. I hope the ride down wasn't too eventful."

The voice spoke out again, and then John recognized not only the tone, but the phrase as well. Looking at the source, his expression didn't change as he saw the smiling face that belonged to Seargent Johnson.

"Where am I?" John asked, slowly. The last thing he remembered was falling down in a shaft while being on the forerunner ship. Johnson had been on Halo, last he remembered, along with the Commander and the others.

"Relax. You've probably got a lot of questions, suffice to say, you've been out for a long while. They barely were able to extract you from the wreckage, but they made through allright."

"You were on Halo."

John stated, simply looking around the room. There was nobody else here – the doctor must have moved out.

" i Were /i being the operative word. The Elites didn't like the fact that my boots were so far up the Brutes' asses, that they saw it in their mouths every time they went on the battlefield, so they shipped me off back to Earth. Besides, someone's gotta come back to hold your hand."

Johnson smirked, and then attempted to hold him down as John tried to get up.

"Cortona." he asked, giving up and settling in.

Johnson looked away, and then the smirk disappeared.

"No trace. She sent a distress signal, but when we got there and cleared out the flood, she wasn't in High charity's system at all. We can't find a trace of her, even with the help of the Elite that saved you."

John looked at Johnson, unsure what to ask next.

Then a thought raised through his mind, one that alarmed him on all possible levels. This time, he shot out of the bed, nearly breaking Johnson's arms as he moved them aside and got up.

"Alma."

He said, looking at Johnson.

"Where is she?"

"Al-who?" Johnson asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Alma. You said there was an Elite that saved me. Did he tell you anything about Alma?"

Johnson shook his head. No, not at all.

With that, he quickly signalled the doctors and nurses from outside.

"Now, now Chief. You've had a rough time. You really should get some rest. After all, you still have a job to do."

Johnson pushed him harder. This time surprisingly, it was strong enough to push John back into the bed.

i Impossible /i John thought to himself as he tried to struggle. Johnson should not have this much strength – indeed, no unaugmented human i could. /i

"You don't understand. Alma – if she gets here, she'll kill everyone."

John continued to struggle, ignoring the pain that shot through his body.

"Relax chief, you shouldn't worry. Nothing is going to happen."

Johnson replied, pinning him down with more strength than should have been possible. John reached out with one hand and grabbed Johnson's arm, attempting to dislodge it using all of his strength.

To his utter amazement, it remained rock solid. By any right, it would have either moved or snapped. But it did neither.

And then his blood froze as he heard i it. /i

It was the last thing he was expecting...yet, strangely, as the sound reverberated through his body, John realized that he i should /i have been expecting it.

The sound was plain, simple yet so incredibly horrifying, that when John looked at the door, and saw Alma standing there, he immediately began to scream and struggle as her laughter – and his screams - reverberated through his soul once more.

He got up screaming, bringing his arms to his face in an attempt to shield himself, only to move what felt like several pieces of debris and rubble out of the way.

John quit screaming as he realized that he had woken up once more – it had been a dream...an illusion.

i What has she done to me? /i John thought to himself, as he brought up his hands to his head. First, Fajhad, and now...now she was placing images in his head? How could he tell whether where he was now was real or fake?

He couldn't exactly tell, either way.

Going over the records in the suit showed that they had fallen approximately 10 meters or so. Although the impact was substantial, he'd fallen further before, and still lived – but that was when he was relatively healthy. The impact had knocked him out cleanly. Judging from the timer, he had been out for nearly ten minutes now.

Fortunately, the suit's auto-repair systems had gotten some of the medical systems online, and he no longer felt the brunt of the pain that came with the impact.

He got up and looked around. The entire area was dark, that much for sure. No lights were operational and Infrared vision was damaged, however. The flashlight came on with just a thought, illuminating the immediate surroundings. He was on one of the Covenant's grav lift. It filled the lift chamber quite easily, and to one side he could see a lift door that was open.

Something had pried both doors open half-way, and consequently shut down the lift here – probably a safety feature. In either case, he could not speculate. Littered across the floor of the lift were several barrels and other large storage modules. Some were broken apart, as if by impact with a heavy object, explaining the amount of debris around him.

A thought of alarm came out, and he looked around quickly, getting up. After a minute, he spotted the Elite buried underneath one of the piles, facing away from him. From the somewhat limp position, he looked either unconscious, or dead.

Getting up, he walked towards the Elite, and kneeled down next to him. His head was covered in some debris that had been knocked over by the impact, but generally John didn't see any obviously broken bones or such. Clearing out the debris, he placed it to the side. Looking back, John reached out with his hand, to turn the Elite over to face him.

When he did so, a flash ran through in front of his eyes, and for a brief millisecond, the figure in front of him changed from an Elite...to someone else's face.

It was Kirk's.

He looked up into John's eyes, and mouthed a single word. One that forced John to reel backwards onto his haunches.

i why /i

He blinked.

Kirk was gone, and the Elite was there.

John shot to his feet and staggered back. What had happened there? What was happening to i him? /i Was Alma doing this to him? i How? /i More importantly, how could he stop it?

"You think she is in your mind, plaguing your thoughts like there is no tomorrow;

Yet it is not her...for what causes you so much pain, is nothing but your own sorrow."

A voice spoke out from behind him. That voice...he remembered it.

Whirling around, he came face to face with the soldier from the brig.

Yet, there was something different here. His voice was completely different from before, and the phrases he had said, and the i way /i he had said it...

John took a step backwards as recognition realized itself within him.

No...this just couldn't be possible. It must be an illusion...it i had /i to be. Nothing else could explain it.

Disbelief soon replaced itself with suspicion as he remembered the bodies that had disappeared in the corridor.

Suspicion gave way to practicality as he looked the soldier over and noticed the flood infection form that had placed itself on the foot.

He looked back at the soldier, and spoke only one word. It was a statement of fact, one of identity, nothing more, nothing less.

"Gravemind"

On the bridge of the ship, Prophet Truth looked at his assistant, his features and expressions contorted into one of anger and rage.

"Where are those bumbling fools! We sent them out just two minutes ago, and they are yet to report back."

He said, talking to the Brute near the back console next to the door. The Brute simply shook his head.

"Unknown. They are not responding to comms, and their tranceavers no longer transmit either. It is as if they vanished completely off the grid."

The prophet's rage increased. How could this be possible? An entire group of Brutes, all at once? Not even the Demon was that powerfull to take on so many at one time...or i was /i he?

He was about to reply when the bridge's lights flickered once. Truth looked up at the lights and frowned. First they had the malfunctions on every other deck, and now the bridge? What was going on here?

Then the lights flickered again, before failing completely and going into darkness.

"Damn this cursed storm! I should have just let the Elites stay in command!" Truth shouted out, to nobody in particular. Pressing a button on his panel, a large flashlight switched on from the hover-chair he was sitting, illuminating the Brute he was talking to.

There was no Brute there, however.

All there was left was a charred skeleton and some blood.

Truth moved backwards in shock, sending the chair backwards and colliding against the railing.

"What in the name of.." he started, and then swung the chair over to look for another.

"Did anyone see - " Truth stopped mid-sentence, as he saw another charred skeleton on the other side of the bridge. Who had done this? How could it have happened so fast?

Then the lights came on, revealing the entire bridge.

Truth looked around as all the brutes that had stood guard were in similar positions. Not one had uttered a sound of alarm, or even been given a chance to draw a weapon. He turned the chair to survey the bridge and the casualties, overcome with shock and fear to react much to it,

And then there was the sound.

It was a giggle, a short laugh. Coming from the main entrance. Truth immediately turned the chair around to face it.

At the entrance, he saw a girl. A i human /i girl, wearing a blood-stained skirt. There was no question about it – she had to be the one responsible for this. But i how /i had she done such a thing?

The question that frightened him most, however, was i why /i she hadn't done it to him yet.

Before he could speak or saw anything, the lights above flashed and exploded suddenly, causing him to blink and cry out in surprise as the entire bridge was plunged into pitch-black darkness. The flashlight was still on, meaning that he could still see in the area ahead of him. But yet, when he looked up at where the girl had been, all he saw were ashes drifting to the ground.

And then the laughter came again, from off to the side.

"Who are you?" He asked, somewhat alarmed and scared as he turned to face her. As the flashlight brought her into view, she just walked into the edge of darkness and disappeared.

Then there was a whisper, it was soft, slow and came from behind him. The sound reverberated not only through his ears, but through his mind and soul itself, sending a shiver down his spine.

"You come here seeking the truth of your existance..."

As he turned to face her, he found that she was looking right at him, her eyes glowing in the darkness.

And then she disappeared once more, leaving only ashes.

Fear ran it's course through his mind and body. This girl, this human...how could she do the things she could? It was terrifying, to say the least.

And then, he heard movement from his left. Turning, he saw her right in front, at the staircase leading up to his command section.

She looked at him, and walked up slowly, all the while whispering, slowly.

"...but know that you, like me, shall find no salvation on this ship."

Then the flashlight flickered and went dead, plunging the entire bridge into the darkness and silence, the latter of which was promptly shattered the next seconds by a scream of pain that was loud enough to make it's way out past the corridor, and down through the open elevator shaft.

The soldier didn't move forwards, standing perfectly still and facing John. But for his part, John didn't react either, waiting for the soldier – or rather, Gravemind - to reply to his statement.

Gravemind had betrayed both him and the arbiter, using them to get onboard High Charity and taking it over. What was most disturbing, however, was that Gravemind had somehow managed to make his way onboard the Forerunner ship before either him or the prophet – or he managed to get onboard just as it launched, like John had. Such a scenario would explain the large amount of flood John had to fight his way through to the forerunner ship.

However, now John had one more thing to worry about: the soldier himself. Earlier, he had proven to have incredible strength, holding John in place with a vice-like grip when they had first met in the cargo hold. Despite the strength given to him by the armor, John had not been able to shake it off even remotely. According to what had been recorded by his instruments then, the Soldier equaled him or an elite in strength and reflexes even i with /i the armor. The fact that Gravemind now had control over him just made it far, far worse than before.

i He could take down a hunter unarmed in this state. /i John thought to himself, a slight shiver running down his spine as he considered the implications. i If he was built to be a God amongst men before…then with the flood's power as well as his own…what is he now? /i

In less than a second, he had already done the combat evaluation. The soldier was unarmed, he was – John still had a very, very good shot. He was also armored, so the Soldier's strength was nullified as him. But if he truly was Alma's son, then may not matter, considering what Alma had done with a single touch.

It didn't matter though, as John still needed to finish the mission, Gravemind or not. This was only another obstacle to overcome, one that he knew he could win. Spartans i always /i won in the end, and this would be no exception.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity as the soldier – i No, Gravemind, /i John corrected himself – was studying him, he spoke slowly, his voice ringing out similar to a poet of sorts. It was so identical to how he spoke in the cave underneath the forerunner installation that it was downright eerie, even for him.

"I can feel in your mind, the fear you hold of us. Yet you remain determined to stay your decision to end this mad course."

The soldier paused, not moving. John's mind reacted first, taking a step back as suddenly, movement showed up on his tracker, originating from above and all around him. From the darkness of the lift shaft above, in a blur of movement before John could react, several flood combat forms jumped onto the gravity pad, shaking it as they impacted on the floor with a resounding i thump. /i

They fell into a circle around the perimeter of the elevator, numbering around eight and surrounding both him and the still unconscious elite. John didn't react though; he continued to focus his attention on the soldier in front of him. The odds just kept on getting better and better.

The soldier took a step forward to John, as it spoke again.

"This ship was brought into this storm for a reason, for now it seeks two beings upon this ship – two beings that it was denied."

"Alma?" John asked, slowly, unsure what to make of the Gravemind had just said. The combat forms didn't move towards him, but neither did they move away.

"She now rules this ship, feeding upon the souls that rest within its central core. Soon she will grow and the storm will not be able to claim her anymore."

Slowly, the combat forms around them took a few steps forward, closing in. But John never took his eyes off the soldier's form. This had gone on too long, he needed answers, and he needed them here and now.

"The storm…"

The soldier took a sharp breath in and then exhaled. John recognized the sound. It was something akin to laughter – or at least, what the Gravemind could manage with the soldier's body.

"Can you not feel it in your soul, in your mind? It has begun it's task, and yet you are so ignorant? It is the most basic force across the cosmos, chasing something that it was denied in many a universe."

"What i is /i it?"

John asked, still puzzled. Gravemind was speaking in clues, riddles as usual. He noticed that the combat forms were moving closer still. He tensed visibly, getting ready to fight his way out. The elite would have to fight his own way out – John had too many adversaries and too little time to finish his mission.

"You don't get it, do you?" Gravemind's voice grew colder and distinctively darker.

"When the rest of our species began to leave so long ago, we few asked it for help; begging it to have mercy. And instead, it cast upon us a curse far worse than any we had imagined."

The soldier took another step forward, and with blinding speed it reached out and grabbed John's arms. The vice-like grip held him steady, not allowing him to move at all. John was about to react when he suddenly felt another presence in his mind. But the suit displays said he hadn't been breached in anyway, so it wasn't Gravemind. Yet, there was someone there – it sat like a pair of eyes in the dark, looking at him – looking i through him. /i It did not react even as John observed it back, trying to discern it's presence.

Gravemind leaned in further, the mask on the soldier's face nearly touching John's faceplate as he spoke again.

"You can feel it. It is there, it watches all of us, all the ones it knows it must claim."

The soldier paused for the briefest of seconds, before continuing.

"But it does not watch over us."

John let his combat training take over as he jumped, using his legs to kick the soldier back and push him away. But the soldier responded impossibly quickly, moving much akin to a blur even by John's standards as he dodged out of the way and then moving behind John. He continued to speak even as he did so.

"It is here for two beings. But we are here for i it. /i We have waited for thousands of years, the seven of us. It claimed our races but left us behind…forever doomed to a fate of loneliness, exile and insanity, all because of what it i denied /i us."

The combat forms attacked, leaping forwards to engage John. He stepped backwards, ramming his elbow in where the Soldier should be – but finding only empty air as Gravemind dodged his blows again. However, his weapons were free this time around as he leapt forwards into the clear space Gravemind had left ahead of him. He did a roll, coming up with both weapons firing as the closest Combat form leapt at him, bringing about its tentacle arm like a whip.

John ducked, but didn't stop pressing the trigger. Blue bolts of plasma spat out at the combat forms, charring and burning flesh and appendages alike. But still, they came, unrelenting despite the insane amount of damage they took. One of the flood forms lost an arm, while the other's legs just melted away to nothingness.

Before the first combat form reached him, John had already done another leap backwards, jumping just out of range as the form whipped at him with the long and spindly appendage. John already had anticipated the two other forms that came from either side of him as he watched them close in equally fast. Holding the plasma rifles in either hands, he held them out to either side, firing at full burst and slowing the combat forms just long enough for him to take another step back. The plasma rifles hissed and then ejected their cartridges from over heating, letting out a small cloud of steam that was hot enough to be felt through the gloves he was wearing.

John was almost out to the exit, however. All he needed to do was just turn around and –

The motion tracker tracked another incoming object as John fought off the other combat forms. It was moving unbelievably fast.

i Gravemind /i was all John could think before a blur came out from behind the combat form and then leapt at him feet-first with enough force to knock him down. Combat forms immediately came up to either side and held him down. John was able to struggle and was about to get loose, however, when the soldier came in front and helped them.

"You still don't understand, do you…if you will not listen, then I shall show you."

Slowly, carefully, Gravemind placed one hand on John's faceplate, not doing anything else.

The presence he had felt in his mind re-appeared – or rather, John began to notice it once more. It had always been there, and as John felt it, he realized that it had i always /i been there. Now that he recognized it, its presence had been there throughout his life, present in nearly all of his memories – but like the tiny part of a picture that you never really noticed unless you knew what you were looking for. It had been watching…waiting.

He had seen it's presence hovering in his illusions, in his hallucinations just mere moments ago, but at that time he hadn't recognized it. But yet, as it looked on to his studying of it, John still couldn't recognize what it was.

"What is it?" John whispered slowly, his mind awash with the shock and horror of this discovery.

The soldier only whispered back slowly, steadily. It was a single word, but one word that brought chills to John's mind, forcing him to reel back from the presence mentally. It was something he had avoided, dodged and generally missed for most of his lifetime, but it was also something he had seen happen to all those around him, to his friends and even his foes. He had brought it about to many a person, and indeed, claimed to have stared it in the face. But it was only now that he realized….he had i never /i stared at it in the face like he had now, for back then, it had never looked back at him the way it did now…as if, he was next.

"Death."

John didn't reply immediately, but he stopped struggling. If it i was /i death…it would certainly explain Alma, to a certain degree…and the storm. But if Alma was the one it was after, why did it bring i them /i here? Unless….

"Who is the other being it is here for?"

Gravemind took the palm off his faceplate and then stood up. He looked down at John as the combat forms moved off. Before Gravemind could reply, John already suspected the answer. The soldier pointed at him and whispered slowly, carefully.

"You."

John blinked.

He just stared at gravemind blankly as his mind raced to take it in. Even as he did so, he continued to watch the pair of eyes that were observing him in his mind. This was what he had faced many a time, and indeed, stared it down just as many times.

i Death /i the thought ran across his mind. Considering how he had managed to dodge it so far, the question bugged him...why had it simply not come after him right away, if it were so powerful? Alma...the fall...the countless number of times he had dodged it in recent history. Why hadn't it simply not just taken him away. It was clear that Death had the power to warp time, and the universe itself – as was witnessed in the storm that surrounded them.

"Why doesn't it just take us?" he asked, voicing out the thought. "It has the ability." he continued, looking directly at gravemind.

Gravemind, for his part, didn't reply immediately. Instead, i more /i combat forms suddenly jumped down onto the elevator pads around him.

i Where did so many bodies come from? /i John thought to himself. This ship must have been far, far more occupied than he had previously thought. Alma left behind nothing but charred skeletons, and he knew for a fact that the flood needed i some /i matter left on their victims and bodies before they could make use of them. Either the flood had arrived i much /i before he had come onboard and remained hidden...

The last possibility shook him, however. What if the flood had been here i all along? /i But just as immediately, he dismissed it...why would the covenant allow flood to remain on their holy relic, one that powered the entire city?

Then Gravemind replying, interrupting John mid-thought. His voice was low, grave...

"It is death...the destroyer of worlds...it watches each of us take our journeys through life, and knows when to end it, as per the agenda given to it by those who control time, space and fate itself..."

Gravemind took a step forwards and continued, looking away to the side and to the combat forms surrounding.

"...but even it is not infallible. Death is something that comes to us not by direct action; but by circumstance...which is why it has not taken i you /i yet."

"I don't understand." John replied. It was the truth, he didn't understand this at all. Gravemind's answers only led to more questions – despite not even answering the original one.

"For it to take you or Alma directly, with all your luck and her power, would be to breach the laws of existence, and destroy all that which you fight for..."

Gravemind's voice contained what seemed like a smile. It was so obvious that it frightened John to his core.

"...Which is why it has set up this circumstance...this trap. It wants both of you, and will do everything it can to take you...but we know it is here, we know it is waiting. It will not have us; denying an end to our constant hunger...one that we shall end now."

John's mind raced as Gravemind revealed this particularly disturbing piece of information. What was gravemind trying to say? Was he holding John and Alma 'hostage' as it were, not allowing either to die until it died first? Did John want to die? He considered it carefully. if he died here...what of the Covenant invasion? What of Earth, what of humanity? He was not afraid to die if it meant saving them – that ideal was something he had learned from day one of the Spartan program...but this situation was confusing...indeed.

John no longer knew what to do. He wished Cortona was here – she would at least have some advice, some insight to the situation.

The entire thing was...strange, odd and completely alien to what he was used for. As much as Gravemind frightened him, John couldn't help but feel there was something else to this entire fiasco. The images of Kirk, Fajhad and the others replayed in his mind; much as it did earlier. Memories of those that had died. What Gravemind now told him was disturbing in more ways than one.

To say that he was not afraid of death would be an utter and complete lie to himself. Every human being feared death...it was only a matter of how much he cared about it. John, like every soldier, was willing to die for the UNSC and Earth...but to watch helpless as his teammates had fallen...that was a far, far worse fate and always shook even the hardiest soldier to the core.

John noted that the motion tracker lit up as even i more /i combat forms fell down into the elevator shaft. This situation could hardly be called good at all. Gravemind pointed directly at him, though and spoke.

"And this is where you come in...Circumstance is reaching its pinnacle; and your fate approaches the end of its cycle...you will help us find death, an end to the madness..."

Something caught John's attention. The way he had said i 'your fate' /i had seemed...odd. He couldn't quite put it down, but he knew that there was something there, something important. But before he could do much about it, gravemind raised his right hand, palm up. i Something /i happened...and a figure began to form...John felt a tingling in his mind as it did...he didn't know exactly i how /i Gravemind did it, but he somehow did. Perhaps he had tapped straight into John's mind, or maybe his suit system...how exactly was irrelevant. What mattered was the figure that stood in his palm.

It was Cortona. She was looking none too pleased at all, and seemed to be speaking to someone else. Her eyes had a fire behind them; one of anger and rage...yet at the same time, her posture was one of frustration...as if she was being coerced.

Then the image changed to someone else – or rather, a group of someone else, and John immediately recognized it. It was Sgt. Johnson, along with Miranda Keys and the elite he had seen when he had first met gravemind.

"...do as we ask, help us to bring about an end to our suffering, the agony that has befallen us...or she, and the rest of your kind shall suffer."

As it to re-iterate his point, the image changed; this time...to that of Earth.

Just as slowly as it had arrived, the images faded away. John's mind reeled back with many questions. This i was /i blackmail. Blackmail of the highest order, actually. Then the implications of the situation hit him. If the flood was here...and the forerunner ship was originally headed to Earth...

Even as he thought this, John's mission came clearer than ever. This ship could not be allowed to reach Earth; nor could its flood occupants allowed to touch one foot upon its soil. i But how? /i he thought to himself. This forerunner ship...although the tech was familiar, without Cortona John realized that he would need some other way to ensure that.

He glanced back at the Elite, who was still unconscious, and then looked back at Gravemind. There was no choice. To save Earth, John had to do the exact opposite; and had to aid those that had wished to destroy it. While he felt little sympathy for the Covenant, the fact of the matter was that they were now at a Civil war of sorts, and the Elites had been betrayed by their leaders.

The flood on the other hand...the fact that he now had Cortona and High Charity...he could very well carry out that threat.

There was little choice in the matter.

Looking at Gravemind, John simply nodded slowly.

"Fine. You have my help."

Gravemind took a step forwards, and John could feel the smile in his voice.

Then something happened, and Gravemind's head shot up, towards the darkness above.

A ripple went through John's HUD systems, and then his armor became slow and unresponsive for a second before i something /i happened.

There was a sound behind John, one that chilled him to the bone and made his blood run cold.

The sound was of laughter...of a small child laughing softly...

His HUD fuzzed again, encountering interference.

i Oh God no. /i he thought to himself, instantly whirling around and then taking a leap backwards.

Standing in front of him was Alma, blood-stained skirt and all. Her hair covered her face, and John couldn't tell if she was looking at him specifically. Even worse to witness, however, was the gore and blood that was present behind her, as skeletons of the various flood forms that had surrounded them littered the grav lift. Fear rushed to his mind as she stood in front of him, slowly moving towards him, hands outstretched.

And then in the blink of an eye, she was gone, leaving nothing but dust and ashes in her wake. John glanced at the Elite, somewhat glad to find that he was still intact. So was Gravemind, even if the combat forms weren't.

But before either could reply, another form suddenly appeared where Alma had stood just a moment ago. He appeared suddenly, and out of nowhere. Yet it had seemed like he had been there forever. This person was...strange, wearing a similar uniform as the soldier, yet completely different. He didn't have the same mask as the soldier behind John.

John took a quick glance in the person's eyes before he disappeared. Not one, but i two /i pairs of eyes looked back at him. One was in front of him...and the other was in his own mind; the pair that been looking at him earlier. He took a step back as shock and recognition went through his mind.

i Death... /i Death was looking at him straight in the face, and within his mind.

And then just as quickly, it was gone, disappearing into the same pile of Ashes that Alma had left just seconds before.

The entire encounter shook him, from the inside out. He had claimed to have faced death many times till now...it had faced him again. But rather than him escaping it, it had ignored him, moving on after more important quarry. Fear went through his mind now greater than ever before, and he couldn't help but have a thought or two of what possibly the afterlife would be like.

Quenching those thoughts, however, John straightened himself out and brought his mind to the mission. Even if he were to die, he needed it to be worth something. His thoughts were interrupted as Gravemind spoke up behind him. John turned to face him.

"Time waits for no-one, and neither does Death. We must catch it before it catches its quarry, or else your civilization is doomed."

With that, the surviving combat forms leaped after the soldier as he ran off, out towards the near by exit. He turned back before entering it, though, indicating for him to follow.

John was about to go in, but glanced at the still-unconscious elite.

"Leave him. This is not his battle."

Thinking rapidly, John realized that carrying the elite would only slow him down. Not taking a second look, he ran and chased after the soldier, following him as they chased down Death itself.

The world was nothing but a haze of pain and agony to Sadhal. He did not know how he was still alive, or indeed, why the fall hadn't killed him outright. During the landing, he thought he had felt a bone or two snap, but couldn't be sure. The pain was so indescrete, so consuming he didn't even know i where /i it originated from.

But then it slowly and steadily began to fade away. The haze started to dissipate and his senses started to retake their foothold in reality. In that haze, he had felt little other than the pain, but as it drifted off, he could hear far-off voices. One was familiar, but he couldn't place it, while the other was completely alien to his memory. He could only make out fragments, pieces of conversation. As he came to, he slowly began to recognize it as terran standard.

Then the memories of what had happened began to return. The human, the ladder and the fall. All of it flashed through his mind, to result in a single thought, one that brought nothing but worry to his mind.

i Why am I still alive? /i

By all accounts, he should he dead by now from the fall...and yet, strangely he wasn't.

The next thing he noticed was the foul stench that permeated the air. He nearly gagged at the repugnant odour; smelling of rotted carcasses and something else that seemed oddly familiar. Training won out and soon took over his thoughts as he slowly approached the edge of conciousness.

Realizing it was best that he get up as soon as possible, Sadhal began to move, opening his eyes and trying to take a look around in the darkness. He was on the elevator platform, and the entir floor was littered with debris of various size and shapes. Sadhal thanked his luck when not a foot away from where he had landed was a sharp spike

Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the elevator, he tried to look around for either the Demon or anything else. As they did, however, he was in for a big shock.

The source of the stench became immediately clear as Sadhal struggled to keep his stomach contents within himself. He was surrounded by bodies; all reduced to nothing but mere skeletons; each one mutated and mutilated to a significant degree. He recognized them as having belonged to Elites and Brutes once, but now there was nothing. However, the blood around them had a far different taint than it would normally have. Instead of being the regular purple hue that made up the blood of most elites, the skeletons were surrounded by a sickly shade of green that utterly disgusted Sadhal to the core.

How had they gotten to be like this? Had Alma missed a few survivors, and had then killed them as she found them later?

i But then...why did she miss me? /i he thought to himself. No, it couldn't be that. Could these skeletons have been here all along, then? Yes, that must have been the answer. However, the green blood was odd...strange. And that stench...it smelt... i different /i somehow...he had been near carcasses before, and the way the scent wafted through the air was far, far different than any normal one. In fact, it was similar to what he had sensed earlier in the corridor; the scent holding the same exact, disgustingly choking flavor.

Trying not to gag, Sadhal examined to see if anyone was alive around him, only to find nothing. The dust on the floor had been disturbed in several places, but it could have been the result of whatever had killed the elites and brutes surrounding him. Rather than question it, however, Sadhal wondered where the Demon had gone.

i Has Alma taken him? /i the thought reverberated through his mind. He had been out for quite a while now. The Demon could have recovered and left by now. Sadhal snorted realizing that such a thing wasn't really all that surprising. Although temporarily brought together by Alma's presence, Sadhal still did not feel any sympathy for the humans. This was especially true since Alma i was /i human – or at least seemingly, a i dead /i one.

Considering what to do, Sadhal realized that his original plan was probably the best option. He needed to get off this ship, and onto the planet below. There may still be surviving Covenant ships around Earth itself, and if any were being controlled by the Elites, he had a chance of getting back into combat and once more being i usefull /i instead of just another puppet for the prophet.

With this in mind, he headed towards the corner of the gravity lift that housed the ladder – the same one he had fallen from earlier. Although as he looked up at the darkness, Sadhal felt a bit apprehensive of going up all over again, he realized there was little other choice.

If he was to survive this entire ordeal, that meant that he'd need to get off this ship, and as far away from Alma as was possible. That meant getting to the seraph fighter in the hangar bay. But to that, he still needed to open the bay doors...which, sadly, needed to be done from the bridge.

Looking up at the darkness above, he only shook his head and then placed a hand on the rung. Slowly, steadily, he began to climb, his body disappearing from the dimly lighted area of the elevator and into the darkness of the elevator shaft.

This was going to be a long, long climb.

Back in the remains of the cell block, the storm continued to rage outside the gaping hole, while a fiery inferno danced its way across the inside of the ship. The entire block was truly a scene from hell itself; with the temperatures being nearly hot enough to completely melt the walls inside.

The fire was odd, for if one were to look carefully enough to look into the inferno, and were able to survive it's deadly temperatures, one would be able to see that the flames simply i burned. /i They did not consume any fuel, nor did they seem to suffer from the same lack of oxygen or medium that most normal fires would suffer from as well. Any living soul would have been frightened, indeed, nigh terrified to be in that cell at the moment.

But for the moment, at least, there was no living soul to witness the inferno as it played havoc with the contents of the room. Nor was there a living soul to witness the storm as it began to churn and boil faster than before. Immediately outside the gap in the hull, a significantly sized vortex began to form, the dark grey clouds whirling around and around in patterns and spirals that would make the average human dizzy if they were to watch its creation and evolution.

Soon, the spirals began to spin faster and faster, till the flames began to be drawn towards it. Lightning arced outside the tear, lighting up the entire room in white. Like before, it's frequency increased continuously for several seconds till the entire room was filled with nothing but the sound of thunder and a blindingly white light.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, there was nothing. The light faded away, leaving behind it the still on-fire room behind it. But now, there was something different.

There was an object at the lip of the tear, or rather, a person. It kneeled on the ground, one hand balancing it. The person could be described as nothing short of a monster.

At eight feet in height, it towered over most normal humans, and could probably look over most brutes and elites with ease. Its monstrous size was almost as large as that of a hunter's in fact, and judging from the way it looked, it was probably far, far deadlier.

The figure was dressed in armor, which had a dark purple hue to it. The armor wasn't like any ordinary one, instead looked similar to a flak jacket made to fit it's gargantuan size; even then it left bare the figure's left shoulder and arm, along with a significant percentage of it's neck. Massive boots covered the monster's feet, while gloves covered incredibly swollen hands, while leaving its fingers exposed. The right hand and arm were grossly swollen, with the armor clearly stretching to accommodate them. Attached to the arm was what one would firmly recognize as a rocket launcher. A rather old model, compared to most UNSC devices today, it's design was consistent to a much earlier era.

Where the armor did not cover the skin, one could be able to see mottled human skin, with many red patches. There was no visible hair, and two massive veins ran on the outside of the creature's right shoulder structure, each one nearly as thick as a fist. The exposed veins began and ended in the shoulder cavity itself, while two more snaked their way around the back of the monster's neck, before disappearing into their chest. Underneath the shoulder vein was a red device of some sort, blinking slowly amidst a section of exposed flesh.

As deformed as the creature appeared in the flesh, its face was far, far different. Its mouth was drawn back in a permanent grimace, with no visible lips, exposing a set of yellow, dirty teeth underneath. Its eyes were barely visible, being merely small, beady irises that seemed to glow an unholy white. A series of stitches ran across the centre and top of its bald, shriveled skull.

At one point of time, this figure may have been human; indeed, it may have led a normal life like any other. Perhaps within it's mind; behind the grotesque abomination lay a trapped mind, only waiting for the right moment before it could either escape…or find some method with which to end it's torment.

But for now, as it slowly rose it's purpose was clear. This was a mighty foe; one that had resisted the advances of death many a time, but had eventually fallen to it. Now, its soul claimed and the mercy of an embodiment of entropy itself, the being's purpose had changed. In another universe, and another time somewhat distant from that of the UNSC's, this being was created at the express purpose as a bio-weapon by one of the planet's major corporations. To some of the life-forms there, they would know the it as the 'Nemesis' project.

However, that is there, and this is now. Nemesis was no longer the great weapon of its creators, but rather, now a mere pawn of death itself. However, this fact did not make it any less deadly, or reduce its sheer tenacity.

Slowly, it took a step forwards. The flames that were on the floor and ceiling suddenly shifted, and parted. They made a path in front of the nemesis; allowing him to walk through unscathed.

Grimly, the massive form began to walk forwards through the path. It now had been given a purpose; one which it would now complete. Capable of only minor thought, thanks to the chip in its brain, it walked out of the cell block, intent on hunting down its target…one that was now climbing up the ladders to the bridge.

i Sadhal. /i It slowly hissed the name that death had given to it. As lucky as he may be, John 117 was not the only one being hunted by death today.

The climb up was long and tedious, to say the least. The ladder rungs had been broken in a few places, and Sadhal nearly had a few close calls along the way; but he had managed to overcome each one and gotten through it just fine.

i Not too bad. /i he thought to himself, as he got off the ladder and into the small alcove next to the door. There was a route into the main bridge itself that was used by the engineer castes for rapid transit. But it was too small for Sadhal to squeeze into, forcing him to dismiss that possibility.

i If things were only too easy. /i

He briefly considered his options. Leaning out from the alcove, he noticed the thin ledge that ran around the wall of the elevator shaft. It was just a foot away from the edge of the alcove and just wide enough to fit his foot sideways. There were some hand-holds in the gap between the door and the alcove.

Reaching out for the hand-holds and trying his best to maintain balance, Sadhal deftly and quickly swung himself out of the alcove and onto the ledge. The holds kept their grip onto the otherwise-smooth wall as Sadhal slowly and carefully scraped his way over the edge; somewhat thankful he was facing the wall, as opposed to the dark gloom below. Sadhal was far, far higher than before, and if he were to fall now, he would more than likely die.

i Best not to tempt fate twice. /i He thought to himself, edging closer to the control panel on the other side of the door. Sadhal went as far as he could while grabbing onto the hand-hold. Fortunately, the door itself had several places where he could forcefully grab and open it. Sadhal realized that doing so in his current situation would be close to impossible, to say the least.

As he grabbed onto the onto the gaps in the door, Sadhal exhaled the breath that he had been unconsciously holding before letting go of the hand hold. Bringing his hand about, he then proceeded to move across the door and to the control panel and hand hold on the other side. All the while, he continued to pray that the power remained out and that the door would remain closed, as opposed to detecting his motion and then opening up right now. Either the door opening or the lift coming up would kill him right about now; a fact that would simply not quit nagging his mind. Thoughts of his potential demise seem to fill his mind by their own volition; and of the suffering that he would have at Alma's hands should he somehow manage to meet her again.

Sadhal shook his head. i Focus. /i He was loosing sight of the objective, which was to get as far away from Alma as possible – which, in turn, was only possible by opening up the fighter bay from the bridge…which in turn was on the other side of the door he was hanging off of now.

Sighing slightly, he continued to pull himself across, making it a point not to look back and down. At least, he i tried /i not to, but failed when he heard i it. /i A loud i clang /i sounded off from the bottom of the elevator shaft; resounding and echoing it's way up to him. It was shortly followed by another and then i another; /i almost as if someone was beating against one of the doors on the lower deck, trying to either claw or beat it's way through. It continued on for several seconds, beating in a regular rhythm and pattern that grew steadily louder and louder.

Catching himself, Sadhal moved. Crossing the door as fast as he could, he grabbed the hand-hold and then began to work on the control panel. Fortunately, his access codes to the doors hadn't been removed yet by the engineers, allowing for the door to open swiftly and silently. Reaching around the door, Sadhal swung into the corridor, unholstering the plasma rifle and bringing it up in case of any danger. Through the door, Sadhal could hear as the clanging on the lower door stop, only to be replaced by the loud i screech /i of a door being dragged open.

Not wanting to find out who or what it may be, Sadhal immediately went to the panel, closing the door and then locking it. Whatever it was, if it could open a door like that, Sadhal didn't want anything to do with it. For all he cared, it could be the denizens of hell itself rising up and claiming the ship – his main objective right now was to get to the bridge, and then getting off.

After the console beeped in recognition of his code, Sadhal turned around. There was a junction connecting three corridors here. All were bathed in the yellow color of alert sirens and emergency power. One corridor went off in front of him, while two more went off to either side and slightly behind him. Turning right, he ran down the corridor, heading straight towards the bridge. It was a straight jog; barely twenty meters before he reached the turning that led in. Judging from what he remembered, Sadhal knew that there would be a short stairway, leading up to the command deck, and from there he could get into the bridge.

There was normally a separate force field on the bridge; but hopefully, if anyone was alive he'd be able to convince them of what happened and they would lower it to let him in.

i But what of the prophet? /i the thought hit him. If indeed, anyone was alive, so would the prophet…would he be able to convince them of what happened…of the little human girl that had somehow killed everyone on the ship. And indeed, what of the brutes that surrounded him? Would they believe him at all, or just kill him off…or worse?

The thoughts were struck clean from his mind, however, as he approached the turning that led into the access way. Although it was dark, he could feel that he had stepped into something…some form of liquid. The entire floor ahead of him was covered in it; and so too were the walls. It flowed and moved; and more importantly, it i stank /i of charred flesh and bones; as if someone had been set on fire and just left there.

i Blood. /i to Sadhal's sheer shock and horror, he realized that he was standing in a rather large pool of blood; one that was still collecting even as he took a step to get away from it.

i No….it can't be. /i he thought to himself; struck by a wave of nausea and uneasiness taking over him. Had the force field collapsed? And if so…he could only shudder as he imagined what the bridge would be like. It would explain a lot of things, as it were, including the lack of any armed resistance thus far.

Holding his breath and taking a step further, Sadhal literally i waded /i into the massive pool of blood; which as he got closer to the doorway, became deeper and deeper till it covered his feet almost completely.

Turning the corridor; he found it's source, much as he had dreaded. The charred skeletons and remains of almost two dozen brutes littered the corridor behind where the force field had been; including one that was near the console itself. The skeletons themselves only had a small portion visible above the blood; indicating just how deep it was. The scene was horrendous and gut-churning. For all the Brutes had done…not even i they /i deserved a fate as this.

i At least, I don't have to worry about the prophet anymore. /i Sadhal thought to himself as he carefully stepped through the remains. When he was past it, and up the stairway, he breathed a sigh of relief, and tried wiping the blood off his feet; only to give up and continue on, leaving a trail of the Brute's blood behind him.

The access way split into a ring-like corridor that went around the bridge. Rather than go around, Sadhal took the immediate entrance in, opening the door using his codes. The room beyond was dark, with even the emergency lights being off. The only light came through from behind Sadhal, but even that was somewhat reduced.

Moving around, he felt for the light control switch. Although he wasn't technically an engineer, he still had enough experience to know that there was back-up lights to even the backups. They were installed right next to the door, so as to facilitate easy access. Feeling around, Sadhal found the panel cover and opened it, at which point he was greeted by the soft blue glows of the forerunner control panel. Activating it, Sadhal was somewhat relieved as several blue and white lights came on all over the bridge and at the various consoles.

As they did come up, however the scene had sadly been just as he had expected; with there being an incredible amount of blood and gore all over the place. Skeletons lay thrown over consoles and chairs, while in the centre of it all lay the remains of the prophet. The chair still hovered over where it had been, forming a rather eerie sight as the prophet's bone structure remained stuck on the chair, the expression on the skull frozen in pain and agony.

Shaking his head, Sadhal stepped into the massacre that was the bridge. Normally, this would have disturbed him greatly…but after the events of today…he doubted he'd ever be as disturbed by such gore as he had been just a few moments ago. Holstering his plasma rifle, he looked around and found the control console he was looking for at the other end of the room, past the prophet's throne.

Creeping along the side, he closed the door behind him and made his way around the bridge. Finally reaching it a bit later, Sadhal checked the controls, and found that, surprisingly, they were still working. Thanking his luck, he began to unlock the controls to the fighter bay's launch hanger. Although it would still remain closed, he would be able to open it manually from there itself. His task done, Sadhal breathed a sigh of relief. All he had to do now was to head down to the fighter bay, grab the last Seraph fighter, and then flee for his life. To make the journey a bit quicker, he activated the lifts as well; and brought up the elevator he had just been in up to the bridge level.

It was hardly an honorable prospect, and went against all of his training, and indeed, his very upbringing. All elites were taught to die in battle; and indeed, he truly did want that honorable fate. But to go against a foe like Alma…that was not an honorable death…that was a i stupid /i one. Nothing he had could possibly enable him to fight her, while she in return could potentially throw him a fate far worse than death itself.

His thinking was interrupted, however, when a loud i thud /i rang out behind him.

Whirling around, Sadhal brought up his rifle at the door. Another i thud /i rung out, deeper than the previous one, and was soon followed by another. It's distinctive trait was a dead giveaway for being footsteps. Looking around, Sadhal spied a brute plasma rifle next to the nearest skeleton. Brushing aside the skeleton, he dual-wielded the rifles. Taking cover behind one of the panels, Sadhal aimed the rifles at the door, ready to fire at whatever came through.

The thuds slowly started to get louder, and heavier, increasing the tension in the air as they approached just outside the door. Then something i banged /i against the door with a loud metallic i clang, /i startling Sadhal. The clanging grew louder and louder as something tried to make its way through the door. It was then that he could hear a muffled voice coming through the door.

Sadhal was about to move out of the cover and go out the alternative exit when, suddenly, the door opened and a Brute – a i live /i one – stumbled into the bridge. Sadhal eased a bit, but didn't lower the rifles. As much as he was glad to see something other than the Demon or Alma, a Brute wasn't really all that much higher up on the list. And judging from the ranks on this one's flag, it was the commander of the local company. The brute sweeped his immediate surroundings with the grenade launcher before spotting Sadhal and focusing it on him.

"You! How dare you bring your incompetent self into the sanctum of the hierarchs?"

The commander asked, giving a low growl. Sadhal frowned before he replied, somewhat annoyed at this. He didn't have time for this, yet if he didn't delay the brute here and now, he would probably kill Sadhal and take the fighter for himself.

"The human girl has killed everyone on the ship, including the prophet and many more. She is currently loose on the lower decks…what makes you believe that I wouldn't be up here if she were down there?"

The Commander growled in reply.

"Do no show me your insolence, heretic! I bet her presence here has something to do with your kind! How did you survive her, if you have seen her?"

"My shields protected me against her. A better question, however, would have been how i you /i survive with no form of energy shielding."

Sadhal countered, somewhat curious as to how the Brute had survived. He purposely made sure not to mention anything about the demon, or what he had been doing so far – the situation was tense and bad enough on it's own as it is.

The brute only grunted and didn't reply. He looked at the console which Sadhal had used to open up the fighter bay and only nodded, giving an amused huff at the elite.

"I see your survival instincts kicked in first…it is not a wonder the prophets left you."

Sadhal growled in reply. This brute was getting the better of him.

i Unacceptable. /i

"Says the one that crawled into a hiding hole to save himself and abandon his squad."

Before anyone could reply and the argument continue onwards, Sadhal heard something coming from to his right; a slight i ca-chink /i sound – one which was very, very familiar. Then i something /i streaked across his vision, leaving a trail of smoke behind before it impacted the Brute dead-on in the chest, knocking him backwards and blowing a massive hole through the torso. The commander let out a gurgled howl before it died out and his corpse fell against the wall behind him.

Looking at where it came from, Sadhal turned to his right…only to get the most horrific shock of his life, as he gazed upon the form that stood at the bridge's port entrance.

The form was massive, and had clearly been human at one point of time. It was significantly deformed, however, and far more massive than it should have been. It easily towered over him and could probably see over the brute. Sadhal could easily see the mottled skin and patches of mutated flesh all along the body.

Could this be flood? No. This thing…this i aberration /i was far, far different than any of the flood forms he had seen to date…and the weapon it carried was unlike anything he had seen either the humans or any covenant to carry.

It was now facing Sadhal, and looked at him with blank, white eyes that seemed to shine with something deeper…darker. It shook the weapon in it's hand, and Sadhal recognized the form of a spent rocket coming out of the chamber. The same sound as earlier came as a new rocket was loaded into the chamber…which it now pointed straight at him.

Time seemed to slow as Sadhal leaped out of the way instinctively. A massive fire issued forth from the rear of the launcher as the rocket launcher and then streaked across the room. It approached him while he was in mid-leap, barely missing his shield by less than two or three centimeters. It's trail burned the shield however, throwing the exhaust into the red as he felt the increase in heat. The rocket then flew straight into the opposite control panel, impacting in a massive explosion that pushed Sadhal off his balance as he landed, and onto his side. The blast from the explosion drove him into the edge of the console, sending a sharp blast of pain through his back and side. But Sadhal recovered quickly enough to turn around….only to watch, dumbstruck as the creature i leaped /i through the air, almost eight meters, and land right in front of him. It drew it's hand back – the rocket launcher mysteriously vanishing behind its back – and then brought it down. It hit the ground where Sadhal had been standing just a second ago, creating a massive dent and illiciting a roar of pain from the creature, as it withdrew its smashed hand.

Sadhal rolled away and immediately came up firing. Blue and Red plasma bolts filled the air, landing on the creature's flak jacket and melting away chunks of its flesh. It roared in pain, but incredibly kept coming despite the attacks. It brought it's hand back up – and Sadhal was shocked to see that the bone structure seemed to have i healed itself /i – and then just as quickly punched Sadhal directly in the gut before he had a chance to reply.

The strength behind the punch was enormous, enough to throw him across the room and into the wall on the other side. His shields immediately died out after having taking most of the energy from it. Still, despite the shield, Sadhal nearly cried out in pain as he felt even more of his ribs break from the assault, while the already-shattered ones protested at the ill-treatment they were receiving.

Still, somehow he managed to find the energy to get up. He looked to the side and found that he had fortunately managed to land right next to the door. Taking this opportunity, Sadhal quickly ran out, hit the emergency lock, and then proceeded to run down the access way faster than he had ever run in his life.

i What the hell b was /b that thing? /i Sadhal thought to himself as he jumped over the bloody remains in the corridor. There was no time for respect or anything else – otherwise he, too, would be joining them. He paused and gasped at the turn into the main corridor as a sharp pain ran through his chest, however. His injuries were severe, and he doubted he had the strength to take the ladders down…and the elevator was just a sitting target if that thing blew out the top doors. He needed another way down. Remembering a series of access ramps to the far side of the ship, Sadhal looked back, only to hear the i thump /i of heavy footsteps running and following him.

i Definitely the ramps. /i

With that last thought, he turned and ran down to the elevators and the corridors, with nemesis in hot pursuit.

Meanwhile, on the lower decks of the ship, John 117 was having difficulties of his own. Gravemind was racing off ahead of him, and John could clearly make out the fact that he was actually going slow to allow him to keep up. Most Spartans – even in their armor, still ran pretty fast – faster than any unaltered human, at any rate. However, even without his armor, John doubted if he would have been able to keep up with the soldier – whom, as if to make it seem worse, had actually suffered far worse injuries than John himself. But then, he i did /i have Gravemind, and the power of the flood infection driving him onwards.

That fact did little to comfort him, however. The soldier was easily a match for a Spartan, maybe even two, should circumstances be in his favor. This indicated that either whomever had enhanced him was probably fairly advanced, or he was one hell of a genetic freak…or was it a combination of both? Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't. All John knew now was that this soldier was from nowhere in the UNSC, and hell, probably nowhere in this universe or time-frame at all, if one were to judge by the helicopter that had crashed into the cell block below.

As they passed by an intersection, John began to wonder. Where were they headed? They were obviously chasing a foe that was capable of teleportation, and yet they were simply running? Or was he lost, merely moving around at random? Did Gravemind even i have /i a plan, or know where they were going in the first place? As Gravemind stopped just before yet another intersection, John stopped and spoke up, trying to get his attention before he ran off again.

"Where are we going?"

Gravemind didn't look back as he replied.

"To chase down death."

"How, exactly?" John asked, somewhat annoyed at the vague response. Gravemind turned around, and seemed to smile as he replied, slowly and in a tone that sent shivers up his spine.

"By bringing Alma to i us. /i "

As chilling as the prospect may have been, John was more concerned about i how /i exactly Gravemind was going to accomplish this. Alma was being chased by death through the ship now; which meant that they pretty much had no chance to catch up, hence the plan was a logical one. Save, of course, for the most important flaw: their was no reason for Alma to come to them, other than to kill them, of course. So he re-iterated his question again.

" i How? /i "

"How do you think?"

Came the cryptic reply. John was getting frustrated at this, yet there was absolutely nothing he could do. Like it or not, he was at the mercy of Gravemind here, and if he wanted to be cryptic and offer riddles…there was little that John could do in reply. Except for just asking, and maybe playing along, perhaps.

"I don't know."

Although John couldn't clearly see it behind the soldier's gas mask, he could i feel /i it as Gravemind's expression changed to one of annoyance, and slight anger, with his tone matching it.

"She will come to us, because i I /i said so. Death cannot take Alma while she is with us, but neither is she capable of defeating either of us without i it. /i She knows this…she will come…she i has /i to come, otherwise death will claim her…if not now, then eventually."

John considered this for a brief second. Alma seemed perfectly capable of causing harm, even in the soldier's presence before…but with Gravemind, it could be a different story. It did seem logical…

His thoughts were interrupted however, as his radio suddenly burst to life and crackled. John's head snapped up as he heard voices. i Human /i voices, to be specific. The tone was short, crisp, and more of barks of orders and than anything else. He recognized the orders though – whomever they were, they were i marines. /i However, it was slightly different to what he was accustomed to.

Up ahead of him, Gravemind seemed to look up and notice this as well. He didn't move, didn't say a word. Instead, he slid up to the wall and carefully began to move forwards towards the intersection. He glanced back, and placed one finger on his mouth, indicating for John to remain quiet. From behind John, a flood combat form stepped forward and past him. It then went past the soldier and into the intersection.

The radio came alive once more and a single, loud voice came out over the radio. He heard it twice, though, for an echo seemed to be coming from the corridor as well.

i "Hostile contact. Open Fire!" /i

Gunfire roared from the corridor, and would have deafened John had it not been for the automatic filters in his suit. At the same time, the combat form flew back at a speed that was simply shocking as several strange spikes hit in the chest, face and arms. The spikes were obviously High Velocity rounds, as proven by the way they buried themselves into the wall, and essentially nailed the combat form with them as well.

i "Hostile down." /i

A shout came from the intersection and John's radio set. It was at this point of time that another combat form walked to both men standing there. But rather than repeat the same mistake that its predecessor had made, the combat form stopped in front of both the men. It was then that the Gravemind took the weapon it was wielding – a Covenant carbine. Gravemind turned back to John, and spoke to him, his tone somewhat grave.

"It appears that death has employed the Replicas to aid in its cause...Be on your guard; for these foes are nearly as tough as my vassal, and they are heavily armed."

With that, the Gravemind turned and moved with astonishing speed. Even with John's reflexes, he was unable to keep up as the soldier's body disappeared around the bend, and the sound of several carbine rounds being fired came to him. In response, several more HV spikes buried themselves into the wall and the nailed combat form to his right. Looking around, he realized that he lacked a weapon – something which was immediately fixed when i another /i combat form came up to him and handed him a battle rifle.

i "Hostile Contact! Take him down! /i

Taking it, John checked the motion tracker and his shields, noting where the targets should be from the movement. Time seemed to slow as John took a breath, and then dived out into the corridor.

The corridor ended just around 10 meters down the intersection, but any proper assault on the position would be impossible. These 'Replicas' as the Gravemind called them, were firmly entrenched behind several barricades, through which they opened fire. However, despite this, Gravemind had already nailed two of the Replicas in the head with multiple Carbine rounds. Oddly, each Replica was dressed almost the same as the Gravemind himself, and were clearly soldiers of the same caliber, except more numerous. They wore different kinds of gas masks, but other than that each was identical to the other, much like clones or such. Same height, same build, same everything. There wasn't even any rank or such identification on their arms or shoulders.

However; there i was /i one big difference: their injuries. Despite having a hole in their head the size of a coin from the Carbine burst, two of the Replicas were still firing away, clearly conscious and in control of their motor skills. If nothing else, John had to give it to these people for being incredibly determined. John concentrated on these two first, firing off a three round burst at each. The bullets streaked across, just barely above the Gravemind's head before burying themselves into the Replica's head. The damage was apparently too much, and both fell instantly. However, the new target caught the remaining three Replica's attention, all of whom promptly fired at him.

i "Two Men down! We need re-enforcements!" /i

HV rounds flew across space and impacted against John's shields. Although all of them bounced off, the sheer mass and velocity was enough to drain his shields completely, not to mention slam his half-ton armor right into the wall as he cleared the intersection. Fortunately, he managed to make it all the way through, despite the change in direction, and took cover. His chest and abdomen burst into pain from the injuries he had taken so far. However, it faded a moment later as the suit's painkillers came in and dulled it to nothing. Breathing heavily, John got up and was about to run back into the corridor when he noticed something right next to his leg.

It was small, blue and round and upon closer examination was clearly a Covenant plasma grenade. Thanking his luck, John wasted no time as he lifted the grenade and jumped up. Gravemind by this time was up on his feet and already retreating back to cover. As he came around the corridor, firing away, John noticed no less than three spikes buried in his torso and arm. Gravemind seemed to noticed this as well, and simply i ripped /i each spike out. It was a sight that chilled John to the core. No Spartan would have been able to survive such a HV round without shields, much less pull them out after being hit with them. It also scared him that they were going against such opponents. The Covenant were one thing…but this?

Pushing the thoughts away, John waited a few seconds for his shields to recharge fully. This time, however, he didn't exactly go into the fray. Rather, he stood near the edge of the intersection, and then calmly threw the grenade in. He just withdrew his hand in time as a HV spike flew to where it had been. However, even before the grenade could land, the Replicas had reacted, as judged by their response over the radio.

i "Squad down! Take Cover!" /i

This was promptly followed a second later by the large i splash /i of both sound and heat that erupted from the corridor end. Snaking the optical cord around the corridor, John was somewhat disappointed to see that the Grenade had only taken one of the Replicas down, and had only taken the arm off another – who now wielded his weapon single-handed using the other.

i "Pull back! /i

One of them shouted. The one-armed Replica opened fire with the HV Cannon, forcing John and the Gravemind to remain under cover as hurried footsteps could be heard. By the time John looked back, he could see another door sliding shut behind both Replicas.

"Come. The hunt goes on, my friend."

Gravemind spoke from behind him, walking past John and into the corridor. There was little John could do but follow him wordlessly.

i Hunting indeed. /i

He thought to himself, suddenly wishing that this day would end soon. After all he had seen today, somehow dying didn't seem like too bad a prospect anymore. What would come in next? Whatever it was, John really didn't want to find out.