The Rabbit and the Wolfe

Sorry for the delay! Life events got in the way and I had to deal with those first. But I'm back now and ready to give you all another installment of your (hopefully) favorite Halo fanfic! As the rest of Blue Team complete their missions, the spotlight shifts to the Master Chief, as he and Private Green hunt down the traitorous Alexander Reilcat! Without further ado, I give you chapter twenty of the Rabbit and the Wolfe!

20: Green with Rage

December 25, 2561

Sector 7, Humanity Mall, Tribute

Epsilon Eridani System

1900 hours

Winters on Tribute were nothing to scoff at. While the days could be best described as chilly, perhaps even pleasant, the nights were an entirely different beast. Its heart, blackened from innumerable winter nights, pumped frigid blood through its pale veins. With teeth fashioned from icicles and claws as lifeless as the barren land upon which it strode, it descended upon its unsuspecting prey with cunning and a brutal efficiency that no mere mortal could ever hope to match. Too proud to skulk in the shadows, it swirled around their feet, immensely frustrated by their strange shells. How could prey be this difficult to kill!? The winter chill continued to hound the two soldiers, its presence largely going unnoticed.

"How can it be so damn cold on a vacation planet?! Hell, there's a volcano a stone's throw away!" Tamara complained to no one in particular, kicking a snowdrift that had survived the previous night's hostilities. The white flakes were swept up into the air and carried off by the currents towards destinations unknown. Ahead, the shattered remains of a once towering skyscraper sagged between two of its shorter neighbors, its immense weight causing the others to sway unsteadily with the wind. Shards of glass, polycrete and other debris fell from the skeleton like blood dripping from a corpse. The two soldiers ducked into a burned-out bus to get a better read on the situation.

Their original route, which also happened to be the fastest, took what was essentially a straight shot to the captured civilians. But Chief didn't need a holographic projection to tell him that those buildings were far too unstable to pass anywhere near. He may be encased in half a ton of Mjolnir armor but even that wouldn't do diddly squat against thousands of tons of building material coming down on his head. Squandering the urge to check in with the rest of Blue Team, he brought up city building plans with a thought, rapidly scanning them over for an alternate route. Beside him, Tamara warily scanned the road ahead, finger on the trigger of her assault rifle.

"Path ahead is too risky to traverse on foot." He began, his voice filtering through his helmet speakers.

"No shit. I could have told you that." Tamara muttered, her eyes not leaving her rifle.

He ignored the jab. "We go under. Drop into the sewers, tunnels should lead us straight to the objective."

"And how is that better if the building decides to give way?" Tamara questioned, the smallest bit of bite entering her tone.

"It'll give us a few additional seconds." He didn't offer anything further as he exited the bus, sweeping his rifle across any potential insurgent hiding places. Motion tracer was empty except for Green trailing behind, but one can never be too careful. Technology can be fooled or broken, but eyes much less so.

Wind whistled from a Warthog-sized hole in the road, where the road collapsed into a series of waste treatment tunnels below, carrying noxious fumes strong enough to fell an elephant into the tormented remains of the city. Without pausing in step, Chief dropped through the opening, splashing into the murky sewage almost three meters down. Tamara hit right after, grunting from the impact. The foul soupy mix coated most of her armor, insidiously seeping into the crevices and clinging to her like a leech offered a blood-rich meal. "Well that's just goddamn wonderful." She growled out, lamenting the many hours it would take to thoroughly clean all the gunk from her gear.

Chief said nothing as he activated his helmet lights, illuminating the murky tunnel. They had more serious problems to deal with right now. Purging his armor of the rank smell of a major metropolitan sewer system was far, far down on that list. She complains just like Sandra. The thought brought a twitch of a smile to his face. That woman was an absolute handful from the moment she stepped onto the Infinity. She had turned Blue Team on its head in ways he hadn't seen since Sam. Her presence in the beginning was a complete unknown, believing her personality, attitude in combat and blossoming attraction could have a detrimental effect on their cohesion. And in a sense, he was correct. Sandra's official attachment to Blue Team completely dismantled their previous team dynamic. But in its place rose a stronger, smarter and more efficient team than ever before. He had her to thank for all the liveliness that had infected his team off the battlefield as well, spreading a sense of warmth and familiarity not seen since their days on Reach. Linda's friendlier, Fred is actually cracking jokes, and Kelly has found what we have been denied our entire lives.

Sewage sloshed rhythmically over their boots, a withering heartbeat marching in step to a crumbling city. The glow of their helmet lights bobbed with each step, illuminating the winding network of tunnels ahead. With each step, the duo was taken farther away from the light of the surface, until it seemed like they were the only ones who existed. The din of battle had long faded, the sounds shielded by several feet of polycrete and asphalt. Only the rumble of heavy ordinance managed to pierce the silence, if only momentarily. One minute slipped seamlessly into the next as they advanced towards their objective, spurred on by the many lives that hung in the balance.

"Which one?" Tamara asked, her helmet lights walking over the six separate paths that lay before them, bringing their march to a standstill. Each branched off into a different direction, demanding a difficult choice in a situation where time was not on their side.

Chief pulled up the subterranean plans with a thought, projecting it on top of the overlay of the city. One of the available routes he ruled out because it ran perpendicular to the direction they needed to go. A second tunnel came to a dead end further on. Analysis of the third tunnel came to a screeching halt as an earth-shaking rumble tore through the sewer with a greater ferocity than all the previous tremors combined. He reacted before on instinct, crouching low as his free hand shot out like a viper, stabilizing the ODST as she struggled to keep her footing. Crack! Crack, crack, crack! It didn't take a genius to realize the tunnel was about to collapse.

"Move!" He barked, roughly shoving her forward as chunks of dirt and polycrete rained down around their heads.

"Where?!" Tamara screamed back, stomping down the panic in her chest as her eyes flicked between them. Her legs felt like they were on fire as she had to fight for every step in the shin-deep mire.

"Choose!" The legend responded, highlighting the four remaining possibilities. He didn't want to think of the odds.

Tamara inhaled sharply through her nose, weighing her options in an instant. All the tunnels looked the same! Fuck it. She charged towards the farthest tunnel, Chief hot on her heels. Ding. Ding, ding. Miniature pieces pelted her like raindrops in a heavy storm, inconvenient, but otherwise harmless. Bang! A chunk the size of a Mongoose tire slammed into the back of her skull, throwing her violently to the floor. She attempted to scramble to her feet, but the slippery ground compounded by the dizzying impact left her floundering like a fish out of water. Moments later, the sensation of weightlessness swept over her entire body as she was hefted out of the water and thrown headfirst into the nearest opening as if she weighed nothing more than a single grain of sand. Landing hard on her shoulder, Tamara rolled uncontrollably until the path sloped upward, bringing her momentum to a bruising halt. For a moment, she lay where she was, listening to the unsettling sound of dozens of tons of polycrete come apart and tumble into the channel, blocking off any means of returning the way they came.

"Private, status?" Chief's voice rang in her helmet. At least she was still alive. Rolling onto her back, she took a few moments to just breathe, her helmet lights reflecting off the moss and algae that grew upon the ceiling.

"Still alive, I think." She responded with a groan. "Any idea what the hell that was?"

"Nuke, most likely." Chief said, startling her with his close proximity. It was a wonder how they could be so quiet in suits that weighed the equivalent of a small car. "Underground detonation. Concussive wave must have found a weak point in the substructure." He finished, offering her a hand.

Gingerly, she took it, even as a small voice in the back of her mind promised her that it was some sort of ploy. If he wanted to kill me, he could have easily done so countless times before now. Effortlessly, she was pulled to her feet. The passage behind them was completely blocked off. There was only one way to go now. "Guess we're going up?" She offered lamely, starting the trek up the slippery slope. Chief offered no response in return, following her lead like a silent guardian.

It took almost another hour of traversing winding, algae-filled causeways to make it to their destination. The had made the trip in silence neither was willing to break, save for a few quick directional changes from Master Chief. Now the only thing that stood between them and fresh air was a ladder and an access port. The legendary spartan stepped up to the ladder, armor dripping on the first bit of dry polycrete since entering the sewers hours ago. Each rung sang softly as titanium boots made contact, quickly silenced as she followed behind. The hatch popped open with a hiss. That was quick. Craning her neck upward, past the olive-green bulk of the Chief, her eyes locked with a pair of startled dark brown orbs set into sunken sockets surrounded on all sides by dry, wrinkled skin.

"Contact!" Chief's exclamation flipped a switch inside her. Even though the majority of his frame was obstructed, years of training took over. Unslinging her rifle with one hand, she pointed it upwards and squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked like a deranged dog who had broken loose from its chain, attacking anything in sight. Bullets lunged from the unsteadied weapon, embedding themselves into anything that wasn't shielded power armor. The old man was still wearing that surprised look as several rounds punched through his sternum, shoulder and neck, throwing shards of bone into vital organs, popping them like water balloons. The man took a few unsteady steps, as if he had too much to drink before tumbling ungracefully into the sewer, landing with a splash. Through her blood-speckled visor, Tamara could see his broken form, half swallowed by the murky waters, his dead eyes capturing the last few moments of his life. The patch on his arm made her blood boil. A black fist wreathed in flame was the symbol and rallying cry among the insurrectionists. Once, she believed it was the path to a better tomorrow, a future filled with hope and freedom. But that's all it was: a symbol, an ideal to strive towards. Beneath the surface it was just as corrupted and malignant as the UNSC, maybe even more so. Hollow promises fed to the masses long enough for you to kill and die for them only to be cast aside as if you were nothing. Lies kept both sides alive and fighting, but the UNSC didn't intentionally slay children! I hope…she thought, glancing up at the Master Chief as he pulled himself up onto the street. Have you done anything you regret? Things that haunt your restless nights? The people you couldn't save? The ones you were ordered to leave behind, despite aiding you in your mission?

"We need to move. They're going to know we're closing in." He scanned the street as Tamara climbed out of the sewer, the glittering diamonds in the sky rejoicing their return to the surface. The sun had dipped completely below the horizon, the last rays of purple and orange blotted out by the blanket of stars. Falling into step, Tamara followed Chief past the bullet-torn storefronts and apartment complexes, augmented by the jungle of shadows thrown by the smoldering structures.

Though fully encased within the hard shell of her ODST armor, Tamara never felt more vulnerable. They were isolated in enemy territory, no air support and completely radio silent. Every corner cradled another nightmare and death was rampant, drenching the bedrock in an irremovable solution. Years of living a difficult life had hardened her, long before she entered combat. Scared. She chuckled to herself. Please. No, she wasn't scared, far from it. She was pissed off. The man she had looked up to, respected even, had betrayed them. Sacrificed her friends like cattle before turning tail and fleeing like a coward! And to use the lives of children as bargaining chips? Unthinkable. She had no words for the depths of his depravity. This spineless dog didn't deserve whatever hellhole ONI would stuff him into. Torture would be too good for the likes of him. She squeezed the assault rifle so tight her fingers began to ache, imagining his desperate struggles as he clawed feebly for another gasp of air. Glancing at the back of his head, she came to a conclusion. Sorry Chief, I don't know what your orders are, but there's no way I'm letting you take him alive. One way or another…Reilcat dies tonight.

"Lose the brights. Switch to low-light." Chief ordered over coms, vanishing from her vision for a split second before her HUD enhanced her vision, revealing horrors hidden to the naked eye. Shoes. Several dozen pairs uncaringly discarded under an overturned Gremlin, its twisted, burned-out husk a chilling effigy reminding all those that passed just how far the Insurrectionists were willing to go to achieve the freedom they envisioned. A chill slithered up her spine, her muscles shivering involuntarily. Something dark had transpired here and despite the ball of dread lingering heavily in her stomach, Tamara was keen on figuring out what.

"Chief, you seeing this?" She asked, crouching down and gesturing to the footwear with her rifle.

"We can't afford to get distracted. We stay on mission." He responded; magnum pointed down the street. Tamara raised a questioning brow at his lack of a rifle but didn't bother to comment.

"With all due respect, big guy, saving civvies is our mission." The touch of venom in her tone did not go unnoticed by the veteran Spartan, who, surprisingly, considered letting loose with a scathing remark of his own. This was neither the time, place nor person to argue with. So instead, he scanned the street, his HUD tagging objects of interest. She has a point, he reasoned. Though doubtful, any intelligence they could gather on their enemy's strength or hostage location would give the two of them that much more of an edge. And with so many unknowns in play, he was unwilling to walk in blindly. But the attitude he could do without. This mission was grating enough as it was.

"Chief." Her voice pulled his focus away from the road. "Bloody drag marks. See them?" Starlight reflected in his gold visor as he followed the ODST's finger. Thick, uneven lines led shakily across the cracked road and into a bar on the other side of the street, as if the very soil was hemorrhaging. A sobering thought.

"Coast is clear." Chief said, dashing across the open in a blur of green. Ducking under a neon sign that hung limply from the front door, he positioned his hulking frame just outside the entrance, titanium plates grinding against the artificial brick. Tamara slid in behind him like a shadow, rifle at the ready.

"Where's your rifle?" She whispered, throwing a concerned look at the oversized pistol cradled in his hands.

"Buried." She gave a grim nod but said nothing further, ignoring the bite of guilt that lingered like a heavy stone. Silently counting down from three, the two veterans breached the building sweeping their weapons in tight arcs. They were not prepared for the gruesome scene that welcomed them. Bodies littered the floor, some so heavily riddled with bullets it looked as if a Flood form had burst from their chest. The larger puddles were still damp to the touch of a boot, the sheer volume having overloaded the drainage systems, forcing the excess back out the way it came. Fear lingered in the air like a miasma, odorless but extremely puissant. Tamara's stomach rolled forcefully as the nutrient bar she had earlier attempted to climb back up. Terrified visages looked up at them with unmoving, glassy eyes, pleading, hoping. These were not people who had gone down fighting. They had been rounded up and slaughtered like cattle. Every. Single. One. But why?

When he was young, failure was a difficult thing to accept. Who had ever liked to lose? But Mendez had taught him and the other Spartans that failure was a guarantee at some point. Adapting and learning from that failure was a necessary element of becoming a better soldier. But no matter how many missions he completed or how many enemies he killed, the faces of those he lost never seemed to fade. Like the tides, each new moon brought them rushing back, ensuring the veteran had an unfit, restless sleep. He knew he couldn't always save everyone. In his line of work, it was a guarantee, but seeing innocents butchered, by his own kind no less, sent him into a chillingly frigid rage.

"Chief." There was no malice or venom in the ODST's voice, only a resolute stillness that reflected the raw emotions boiling within his own body. But no matter how embittered he became; the mission came first. Those kids came first. That fact needed reiteration, for both their sakes. They couldn't afford to fail.

"We need to stay focused." A small part of him felt disgusted for even thinking those words. Sandra would have charged into the heart of the enemy, damn the consequences. And, truth be told, that was starting to sound like a really good idea.

"These were their parents!" Tamara hissed, a drop of venom leaking back into her vocal cords.

"There are other possibilities." Deep down, he knew Tamara was right. The location and proximity to their target left little doubt it could be anything else.

"You and I both know that's a lie." Chief turned his head ever so slightly to get a better look at her. Though her visor hid the curves and auburn hair, he didn't need to see her face to read the anger resonating from her entire being. Words couldn't do justice to the emotions surging through their veins, trampling anything that stood in its path like a Hunter who had just lost its bond brother.

"We need to keep moving. Time is not on our side." His voice was clear and crisp inside her helmet but she couldn't shake the feeling he was as angry as she was. Or, at least that's what she hoped. It was hard to tell, as the only Spartans to show palpable amounts of emotion were Amber's parents. And that welcome had been anything but warm. God, I hope that kid's going to be alright. She's suffered enough. Bastards who hurt kids don't get to live. Period.

"Orders or not, Chief, I am going to kill every single one of those maggot-fuckers. You don't mess with kids. Ever." She glared at the pale-green visor of the statuesque titan, daring him to rally an argument. Unsurprisingly, he was reticent, whether from agreement or simply lacking an appropriate response remained to be seen. He stepped over the stiff bodies as he stalked through the lower level, spurring his companion into action. They rapidly wove through the few hallways that made up the rear of the building, every bloodied body reinvigorating the burning fire within. Exiting into a narrow alley, the winter air greeted them once more, whipping the snowflakes into a frenzy. Their objective lay in the building just ahead, the grand cardinal-red domes and sweeping marble columns clashing wildly against the warped silhouettes of the surrounding edifices. Painted in the spotlights it stood proudly, nary a blemish upon its surface. How had this elegant building, dedicated to preserving the natural history of this planet, escaped the carnage relatively unscathed, where so many other important landmarks had not?

The New Casbah Museum of Natural History was almost as old as the city itself, dating back almost 150 years. In this time, it had flooded, had half of its dome blown off in 2524, and even burned to the ground twice. It had, quite literally, risen from the ashes. A phoenix of polycrete and steel, born anew and ready to spread its wings. The chocolate and vanilla marble arch oversaw the central courtyard, protected by its stone column soldiers, which stood single-file, showing no signs of wavering under the heft of the immense marble beam above their heads. Mottled sprouts of greenery dotted what remained of the once gorgeous courtyard, like scabs on a decaying corpse. Heavy equipment carved a path through the crumbling remains of the once lush blankets of carefully curated flora, leaving the tattered remains to wilt in the cold winter winds.

The steady thump of mechanized armor shook the courtyard as heavy hydraulic systems powered five tons of armor along its designated patrol route, crushing everything unlucky enough to be caught underfoot. Chief spotted three in the middle, with another seven patrolling the perimeter, tagging each one as hostile and marking their positions. Every step rattled their bones, jostling the degraded foundations, threatening to bring the surrounding buildings down upon their heads. With that much firepower aimed in their direction, getting in would not be so simple.

"That's quite the welcoming party, Chief." Tamara commented over coms. Truth be told, she was more than mildly unnerved at the amount of firepower aimed in her direction. If things went south, she probably wouldn't last very long. A sobering thought. Dying was not on her list of things to do today, but kicking some URF ass was.

"This isn't a blow through op and our rockets won't cut it. We need a way past." He hefted his launcher as if to emphasize his point. Besides the two missiles in the tubes, neither the SPNKr nor the Pilum carried any extra warheads.

"Actually…" Tamara began, trailing off quickly as what she was about to say hit her like a freight train. Chief turned to look at her from his crouched position behind a dumpster, his reflective visor asking unspoken questions. Questions to which the answers made her sick to her stomach. Acting as Palmer's operative gave her some breathing room with the Chief when it came to her past deeds, but how long would that goodwill last? Who knows what he would do to her after the mission was complete? She didn't think he would put a bullet in her skull at the first opportunity, not unless he was ordered to. He wasn't ONI. The Master Chief didn't operate like that. Or, she sure as hell hoped he didn't. Swallowing the lump of fear that had taken up residence in the back of her throat, she addressed the legend. "I need to make a call." She stood up, taking several steps away from the alley exit, as if those few extra feet somehow instrumental in further preventing eavesdropping on her closed, encrypted channel.

[CONNECT TO NETWORK?]

[Y?/N?]

[ESTABLISHING CONNECTION…STAND BY]

After several rings, an aging man's face filtered into her HUD, the prominent crow's feet around his eyes reminded Tamara how distrusting he was. The frown adorning his wrinkled face only deepened with each word that passed his lips. "What do you want?" He snapped impatiently.

"Give me the codes and the number to the President's private line." She belted out, ignoring any sense of politeness or decorum. They were on a rapidly shortening timetable which didn't allow the luxury of niceties. Besides, she doubted the grumpy old bastard would respond any better.

The man grunted, unamused. "And why the hell would I do that? These are our bartering chips for Tribute's unconditional surrender." Tamara couldn't help but grind her teeth at every raspy word that came out of this ugly man's lips.

"I don't have time for your fucking games, old man. Just give me what I need-"

"Or what?" The man demanded. He was silent for a moment, a pensive look passing behind his sunken eyes. The man suddenly smiled, having come to some unknown conclusion, revealing his gnarled, rotting teeth. "We're losing, aren't we? Getting our asses served to us on a silver platter and your pretty ass wants to beg for a safe trip off this rock!" He laughed, his raspy, screech cackle rang in her ears like nails on a chalkboard. "Traitor! Sellout! Whore!"

Tamara squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. She honestly never wanted to use this card. The thought of her actually doing what she was about to say…it churned her stomach in a way nothing else could. But he was leaving her no choice. "I know where you live." She stated firmly, her tone like icy steel. Immediately, the man stopped screeching. "I ran your protection detail as we set up your observation post, Foxbelly. I don't care how long it takes, if you don't give me what I need, right now, I will hunt you down and you can watch as I burn your entire family alive. Starting with the youngest." The man stared at her through the connection, a swirling mix of emotions in his beady eyes. It took all her might not to cut the link and vomit onto the floor.

"You are a monster." With that he was gone. No final jibe, no spiteful rebuke, just a quick data burst, then…nothing. Idly, she wondered if she was going to get any sleep tonight. Or ever again, for that matter. She felt dirty, disgusted with herself. She got what she wanted, but at what cost? A piece of her soul? A lifetime of restless sleep? With an angry snarl she cast those thoughts away, assured they would haunt her later. With any luck, this conversation will proceed much more smoothly.

[ESTABLISHING CONNECTION...STAND BY]

"Who is this? How did you get this number?" The man's tone, though stern, was level and even. A far cry from her Tribute sneak.

"President Vatreem, my name is Tamara Green, and how I came about your private line is irrelevant. What is important is that I require your authorization for a suborbital MAC strike.

"Absolutely not! My city is at war and my people are under siege! I want these bastards gone, but I will not bomb my own city to do so!"

"Sir, I'm not asking you to kill your own citizens. On the contrary, I'm asking you to save them."

"I don't have time for your games, Ms. Green. I gave my word that there would be no orbital strikes in or around the city and I will not betray their trust. Now, if you are quite done wasting my time, I have many other important matters to attend to." He was stonewalling her. And she couldn't blame him.

"I have nuclear detonation codes." That got his attention.

"That is a very serious accusation. This is no-"

"Time for games, I know." Tamara said, cutting him off with a bit more venom than necessary. The weight was starting to pile up and she didn't know how long she could hold on. "But rest assured, Mr. President, this is no game. I have activation codes for several FENRIS nuclear warheads located throughout New Casbah. All I want is for you to hear me out." There was silence on the other end for a few moments as Tamara watched the man's jaw clench and relax repeatedly.

"I'm listening." There was steel in his tone, sharp and alert. To him, she was now a threat. Apparently, today was a day for crossing lines.

"I will gladly give you the locations and codes to these weapons, but I need that authorization." She caught Chief's hulking form out of the corner of her eye. He had not said a word but she knew he wanted to rescue those kids, even if it wasn't the driving reason behind his actions. Let's just break all the rules today, Tamara. "I assume you've heard Major Reilcat's challenge to the Master Chief, and how he's using children to force him into combat." Vatreem grunted in acknowledgement. "The Major and I have…history, so I know his word is good. We need that strike to clear the way. I know I'm putting you in a shit position here, but neither one of us really has a choice in the matter. It will be a PR nightmare, but you can at least recover from one of them."

Vatreem leaned back in his office chair, a curl of hair brushing against his forehead. He swept it away without breaking eye contact. "Who is this 'we'?" He asked, his Egyptian accent finally poking through.

"Just myself and the Master Chief." She couldn't keep the twitch of a smile at bay as his eyes widened in surprise. Despite her current affiliations (or lack thereof), she still respected the hell out of the older Spartan. Without him and the other Spartans, Humanity very well may have lost the war.

"Put him on and I will consider your request." She could see the gleam of idolization in his eyes. Ignoring the spike of misgivings lingering within, she alerted the Spartan's coms, miming for him to join the conversation when she had his attention.

"This is Sierra One-one-seven. To whom am I speaking with?"

"President of New Casbah, Matt Vatreem." Though the awe in his voice could be picked up a mile away, he was succinct, something both soldiers were grateful for. "Your…companion has requested a suborbital MAC strike, within city limits. A decision which would put me in a very arduous position." Chief's gold visor turned her way and Tamara could imagine a raised brow behind the opaque composite. She could feel her face redden with embarrassment as she looked anywhere but him.

"Sir, with all due respect, lives are on the line. Our first priority is their safety. Everything else is secondary." The line was silent as the president digested the Spartan's words. Long enough, in fact for Tamara to seriously worry that the man would turn down their request. If that happened, those kids were as good as dead.

"Master Chief?" Tamara rolled her eyes behind her visor. Humph, politicians. Always trying to suck up to people.

"Sir?"

"As long as your companion comes through with those codes, you will have exactly one MAC round. My citizens are already terrified as is. I do not want them to look to the sky to see a UNSC ship bombing our fine city. Therefore, a militia vessel will be tasked to assist you. We don't need any lingering…misconceptions about our allegiances."

"Understood." The president severed the link. That had to be an impossible decision to make. Either he keeps his word, condemning innocent people to what is sure to be a very public execution. Or betray your word to save those who cannot save themselves. Both avenues are political suicide. No matter what, one thing was clear: Matt Vatreem's position as president was over. Tamara didn't envy the man whatsoever. She didn't have to worry about her political career going down in flames. The codes to the nukes followed nary a second later, tracking the data trail back to its new master like a bloodhound. With any luck, New Casbah would live through another terrifying night, one that wouldn't involve extreme doses of radiation and heavy metals.

Within minutes, their coms crackled to life once more, this time flying under the banner of a Tribute Militia warship. A joyful tingle shot up her spine at the captain's voice. She couldn't wait to see this thing in action.

"This is Captain Lityra of the TDF Second Chance. We received orders to assist UNSC ground troops. Please identify your name and rank for the record." She looked at Master Chief, who just nodded for her to go ahead. The form of communication was unusual, but then they weren't dealing with the UNSC.

"This is Private Green, UNSC. We require a surgical MAC strike at these coordinates." The captain chuckled at the oxymoron. Anyone with eyes knew that a Magnetic Accelerator Cannon did not do surgical. One second there was a target. Blink, and you'd find yourself standing at the edge of a crater.

"Wait…these coordinates are inside the city!?" An uncomfortable weight settled in the captain's stomach, creating ripples of dark thoughts that flowed through her mind. Astonishment was palpable through the channel as she waited for their response. "I won't target my own people." She wasn't about to throw away her humanity for whatever orders these troops had. They would have to court martial her first.

"There is enough armor between us and our target to level a city block and we don't have enough rockets to blast our way through." Tamara took a quick breath. Her next words left a sour taste in her mouth. Part of her felt like this was her doing, at least to some extent. "And these Mantises are fucking child-killers." There was silence on the other end as the woman digested the newest snippet of information.

"You have one round, Private. Where do you want it?"

"Right on top of their fucking heads." Talk about a nasty surprise. She transmitted the desired coordinates, joy pulsing through her at the fact their time was soon to be up. Truth be told, they all deserved a fate worse than death, but they had neither the time nor means to pull it off.

"Beginning our descent." The words had hardly left the captain's lips when a tremendous rumble rolled through the skies, drawing her gaze up towards the stars. Orange petals of fire unfurled across the corvette, desperately yearning to grasp as much titanium as it could hold, burning a hole in the star-studded cloak that blanketed the sky. The image reminded her of the meteor showers she observed when she was a kid. Before the universe seemingly turned to shit. The flames disappeared as quickly as they came, bored with the metal's lack of flammability. Rapid, heavy footsteps momentarily drew her attention from the rapidly approaching warship. It seemed they weren't the only ones to notice the Second Chance's arrival. She gawked disbelievingly as almost a dozen Mantises let loose a barrage of missiles and heavy machine gun rounds. Are they trying to shoot down a corvette with a bunch of missiles? Idiots. To no one's surprise, the Gladius-class heavy corvette shrugged their attack off with no effort whatsoever. Captain Lityra may have been reticent to assist the UNSC, but evidently, that same hesitation did not extend to protecting her home. Retaliation was swift and merciless, as the bow began to glow, growing ever brighter with each passing second as the weapon finished its charging sequence.

The impact was deafening, instantly wiping out all other sound. The epicenter of an earthquake. That was the only appropriate description Tamara could pull together as her head repeatedly banged against the inside of her helmet. Dust and smoke flooded the air like a tsunami, reducing her vision to almost nothing. Shards of polycrete and glass silently knifed through the air before deeply embedding themselves into unseen targets. Slowly, eventually, the world stopped shaking long enough to hear her heart beating like an autocannon. Was it really that terrifying, being so close to such sheer destruction? Her body thought so, even if her mind rejected the sentiment wholeheartedly. The smoke cleared at a more languid pace, too busy gorging itself on its newfound freedom. By the time Tamara was able to pick out the Master Chief's green armor crouching nearby, her hearing had mostly returned.

"Status?" His voice was a salve, soothing ruffled feathers she did know she had. And while she may not belong to either the UNSC or URF, it was nice to know that at least one person cared enough for her wellbeing to ask. Even if it was just for the sake of the mission.

"I think that MAC jellied my insides a bit, but I'm good to go." He gave her a swift nod and slowly stalked towards their destination, SPNKr at the ready. Mildly annoyed that her attempt at humor had fallen flat, she quietly mirrored his footsteps, choosing to instead focus on the fight ahead. The courtyard and many of the buildings that closely hugged the curated shrubbery had been completely erased, the blackened crater left as stark reminder to all of those who wish ill upon others. It sent a chill down her spine. She could have been one of these poor bastards, lured into a web of lies only to be annihilated from orbit.

The two soldiers skirted around the uneven rim as Emese took its expected place in the night sky, casting what little light it could through the thick clouds that hung over the city. Without the spotlights to light up the dome, the natural history museum carried the same monochrome dread that permeated the rest of the skeletonized city. Many of the panels that adorned the distinguished building had been blown away and, along with the shattered windows, gave the impression that the building had not been occupied for some time. like it had been infected with a disease. Which is not entirely untrue. Such acidic thoughts were normally not commonplace for her, but she let it slide in light of the current circumstances. Instead, she let it guide her hand as they forced open double doors that stood as the main entrance.

"Stay alert." Tamara was tempted to roll her eyes at the unneeded reminder, but she cast the idea aside. Such a response seemed almost childish in their current situation, and considering he hadn't yet put a bullet through the back of her skull, ungrateful. Plus, it was rude.

The high, arched ceilings amplified every step they took, magnifying their presence. Tamara cringed with every step she took. Her veteran companion, on the other hand, was as quiet as a church mouse on a carpeted floor, making almost no sound save for when his heavy boots found a stray piece of shattered glass. She, like many others, had wondered how Spartans could be so damn quiet walking around in a tin can that weighed half a ton. I need to learn how to do that. Her train of thought was halted by a mechanical whirring on the other side of a rather elaborate stone arch that separated the outer square from the atrium. Chief held up a closed fist, bringing her vociferous steps to a halt.

"You know, for a Spartan, your entrance was far from subtle." Alexander's near-mocking tone blasted from the Mantis, carrying his voice around the corner. The ground trembled with each step of the armored defense system, knocking priceless artifacts to the ground with a clatter.

Flashing her a series of hand signals she couldn't hope to catch, he stood and walked around the corner with steady, even steps. Like this was just another day. To him, it probably was. She had to admit, standing tall in his trademark green armor and hefting a rocket launcher as if it weighed no more than a feather, he cut an incredibly intimidating figure. The Covies had every right to be terrified of him. No wonder they called him 'demon'. He fits the moniker to a 't'. The first rocket spurred her into action as the blast spilled out into the corridor, shattering priceless curios that were probably older than the first human settlements. Somewhere, an archaeologist was bawling his eyes out.

"Son of a bitch!" Surprise staining every syllable that flew from her lips. Tamara prayed that her former C.O. was too focused on fighting to notice another blip on his motion tracker. Sprinting in the opposite direction, she turned at the first crossroad she came to. She knew the Chief could hold his own. She just didn't know for how long. As she sprinted past another atrium entry point, she caught a quick glimpse of the battle. Master Chief was hammering the Mantis's shields with his magnum as Reilcat did everything in his power to turn the veteran into a gory mess.

Tamara began to feel the strain in her legs as lactic acid crept up her muscles, lungs struggling to keep supplying oxygen to the rest of her body. Ignoring the rising fatigue, she willed herself to move faster. Lasky was counting on her. The Master Chief was counting on her. But most importantly, she was the only hope for these kids. She didn't care what happened to her after all this, but there was no way she could live with herself if these kids didn't make it.

"Kids! Hey kids, where are you?!" Desperation coated her words as she frantically yanked open every door she found. Chief had to be out of rockets by now. Such a thought did not sit well with her, pulling and pinching her insides in the most unpleasant ways. Her muscles screamed for her to stop, to rest, but she paid them no mind. Spotting a sign for electrical access out of the corner of her eye, she made a beeline towards the open hatch. The three-foot drop waiting for her wasn't a surprise. Catching the tube of the launcher on the frame of it was. She landed on her back with a heavy thud, the heavy weapon driving the air from her lungs. Gasping like a fish out of water, she was able to take in air after a few moments. Allowing for a few selfish seconds to greedily lap up the slightly musty air, the ODST stood on somewhat shaky legs.

"Ow." She wheezed, grateful there was no one around to see her faux pas. Scooping her rifle into her arms, she made the short trek to the only door available. Trying the handle, she found it locked. Figures. She thought, frowning behind her helmet. With no time to waste, she fell back on the most direct way: kick the damn thing in. So she did. And then she kicked it again. And again. And again. And again. With each blow, her frustration mounted. I don't have time for this! Just as she was about to give up, the mechanism holding the door snapped, enabling the door to be pried open. Wrapping her fingers tightly around the handle, she pulled with all her might, grunting from the strain. The bare metal-on-metal contact emanated an agonizing screech that could probably be heard from orbit. Still, that ember of hope flickering in her chest refused to be extinguished. She could feel it. No words could remotely begin to articulate what it was or how she knew, but somehow, she just…knew. Come on, come on! With one final, massive tug, she managed to wrench the door far enough to slip through. Deactivating her low-light, Tamara flipped on her helmet lamps. And her heart dropped into her stomach.

Ten, maybe twelve, toddlers huddled together in a corner, several days of grime caking their terrified frames. Squinting against the harsh light, their whimpers carried on the staling air, pulling fiercely on her heart. Immediately, she thought of Amber. That little girl had been through so much already. To see such pure souls exposed to the same horrors…it made her blood boil.

"S-stay back!" Tamara startled at the sound of another voice in the room. Blinking away the last of her musings, her green eyes settled upon a young boy no more than fifteen. He's just a kid. Her eyes were drawn to the object in his hands, a stone spearhead tied to a wooden shaft. Based upon its material makeup, she guessed it had been one of the objects on display. It was obvious that he wasn't a threat.

As she took a step closer, the boy lifted the spear higher in his trembling hands, pointing it squarely at her chest. He was either brave or stupid, perhaps both. "I-I'm warning you!"

"Relax." Soft words flowed from her lips as she held up her hand in a placating gesture. "I'm with the UNSC. We've come to rescue you. What's your name?" He looked to debate the validity of her words, casting a quick glance at the children gathered behind him. With a nod to reassure himself, he turned back to her.

"Andrew. Andrew Anderson. What's yours? You're with the UNSC?" She gave him a nod, which seemed to ease some of the tension in his limbs. While technically a lie, he did need to know that.

"Name's Tamara."

"No last name?"

"Not important." He looked like he wanted to press for an answer, but quickly switched topics.

"You said 'we've come to rescue you', but I don't see anyone else." He leaned over to confirm his suspicions. Perceptive too.

"I brought the Master Chief with me!" She offered with a smile, jabbing a thumb behind her inthe general direction of the legendary Spartan. Their eyes widened in surprise as the words gradually sunk in.

"You're lying."

"I never lie." Ironic, considering those very words were a big, fat lie.

"Did you hear that guys? The Master Chief himself has come to save us! Oh, I have so many questions to ask him! Like…" A smile spread over her face at the group's excited chatter, filling her body with warmth. This. This right here is why I became a soldier. To protect people who can't protect themselves. Give them something to hold on to. Give them hope. Not so scum like the URF can use them as human shields to try to further their conquest. Anger pumped through her veins like water through a fire hose, dousing every inch of her in fury. The UNSC may not be perfect, but they are a far cry from these monsters who will do anything to further their cause. All the while, they run their mouths about 'liberation' this and 'freedom' that. Disgusting insects.

Something tugged on her finger, ripping her from her headspace. Instinctively wrapping her finger around the trigger, soft sniffles sliced through her defenses like an energy sword, impaling her with a deep sense of guilt. She was far too volatile right now. Shaking the vitriolic thoughts from her mind, she kneeled down to meet the tear-stained cheeks of a young girl.

"Did I scare you?" The girl stared blankly at her, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water, several tears trickling down her cheeks. She tried several more introductions, each one eliciting the same dazed look. Are my helmet speakers malfunctioning? Or maybe she doesn't understand English? Unfortunately, her linguistic skills were not as impressive as her kill count. Fortuitously, help arrived quickly, as another young boy ran to her with an explanation.

"She doesn't hear." He explained, confounding the soldier. Doesn't…hear? Confused, she asked for clarification, to which the boy repeated what he had said. When she asked for a third time, he stomped his foot in frustration, making wild gestures with his arms. He obviously knew what was going on, but lacked the vocabulary to properly explain it.

"Andrew?" She called, hoping he could shed some light on their communication barrier.

"Oh, uh, he was trying to say Sequoya is deaf." The little boy nodded his head so fast she thought it might fly right off.

"Huh." Casting one last glance backwards to make sure they were alone, she unsealed her helmet, allowing the unfiltered dusty air to fill her lungs for the first time. Shaking free her auburn locks, she sat her helmet on the floor, allowing the lamps to illuminate her hands.

[Hello, Sequoya. My name is Tamara.] Some of her words were a bit rusty, but having family who were auditorily impaired did tend to necessitate acquiring certain skills.

[It is nice to meet you, Ms. Tamara. What did you tell my friends?] Tamara frowned, sadness coating her heart. She knew how hard her cousin struggled through her formative years. [Is it bad?]

[No, not bad.] Her quick reassurance coaxed a small smile from underneath long raven locks. [In fact…do you want to meet the Master Chief?] Sequoya flashed her a dazzling smile as she jumped up and down, giggling and cheering with the rest of the children. As cute as this display was, they needed to move. Eventually-with a little help from Andrew-the two of them quieted the kids down. Donning her helmet, she helped them up the ladder.

"The hostages are secure. I repeat, the hostages are secure." Silence.

"Chief, do you copy?" Nothing. I swear, you better damn well not be dead.

"Chief, I just promised a dozen kids that they get to see you and I'm not about to break their little hearts. So you better fucking answer!"

"I'm otherwise occupied, Private." His neutral tone gave no hints as to the annoyance lingering underneath.

"So am I, but I can multitask." She launched back with a smirk, enjoying their verbal spat.

"New orders from ONI. We take Reilcat in. Alive."

Tamara's response was immediate. "That's bullshit! Fuck ONI and their orders! They can stick their ambiguous morals up their ass! Reilcat is mine!" The venom in her voice was palpable and it flowed freely from every syllable that left her lips. He was the reason she was in this mess in the first place.

"We follow orders."

"Not blindly!" She took several deep breaths in an effort to calm her rising temper. "He is not leaving this planet alive, Chief. I don't care what it takes. He's the reason we're in this mess in the first place."

"We all make our own choices, Tamara." His comment showed a startling amount of insight. Insight she was not ready to digest. With a snarl, she cut the link, her boots matching their wearer's temper as she stomped angrily towards the designated rally point. The rest of the group gave her a large berth, feeling the anger roll off her in waves.

She slipped through the main doors where she paused, counting each head that followed closely behind her. Nine. Ten. Eleven. That's everyone. Motioning them behind a collapsed marble column, Tamara felt a presence settle beside her, sending a flurry of emotions through her body.

"Where's Reilcat?" She spat, throwing furtive glances towards the courtyard every few seconds. Call her paranoid, but the quiet night unsettled her.

"Secured." He replied, the deep rumble filtered through his helmet speakers, drawing the attention of several children. "Exfil in five." Thoughts and ideas flitted through her mind like butterflies, coming to rest only to flee moments later. There was nothing she could say or do to make him change his mind. He had given her a chance at redemption, only to slap it away as if it held no meaning. Like she was nothing.

The urge to strike him came suddenly like a blade from the darkness. Ram her assault rifle into his stomach and squeeze the trigger until it ran dry. She probably would have too-as stupidly foolish as it would be-if not for the cluster of small children huddled behind a toppled pillar in an effort to keep warm. If not for people like Amber, like Sequoya, where would she be now? Pragmatism and reason reminded her that a ditch would be a terrible place to bleed out. So she kept her mouth shut. And waited.

"Sweep for survivors." The sudden order bounced around inside her helmet, jarring her contemplation. "Focus on the atrium." She glared up at him, embittered at the interruption. The olive coloring had long since lost its luster, decorated with uncountable gouges and scrapes, painting the veteran with drab strokes. Even his newest accoutrements, a cracked pauldron and a split shin plate, didn't seem to faze the soldier whatsoever. That has to hurt like hell. Telepathy must have also been part of their training, because he continued. "I'll remain with the civilians." She quickly held out her rifle, blatantly ignoring his refusal until, begrudgingly, he pulled the weapon into his arms. Drawing her pistol, she slipped back inside unnoticed, the shadows gently pulling her Helljumper armor into its velvety depths.

The stench of gunpowder choked the air, mixing with the high explosive residue that coated the walls, creating a potent cocktail of noxious fumes that threatened to overload her atmospheric scrubbers. The robust silhouette of a Mantis slumped against a large, fossilized Ankylosaurus, its blackened, mangled frame clinging to the skeleton like barnacles on a ship's hull. Fuel and hydraulic fluid dripped steadily from severed lines as its armaments hung limply from its sides, immobile. Like the nerves had been surgically cut. Big man knows his way around a Mantis, I'll give him that. Deciding that a closer look couldn't hurt, she strutted over to the disabled ONI mech, pulling herself up onto its carapace. Unholstering the pistol from its magnetic home on her thigh, Tamara went straight for the access hatch release lever. Snugly nestled just below the access hatch, the innocuous red lever had saved many soldiers from burning alive inside the cockpit when the vehicle's systems shut down.

Pulling the lever up and out in one smooth motion, the hatch popped open with a loud hiss, revealing the pilot inside. They made no move to attack, defend themselves or flee. In fact, Tamara would have passed them off for dead if not for the shallow rise and fall of their chest. Let's see what's behind door number one. Curling her fingers around the helmet seal, she gave a few experimental tugs. It was much harder to remove them while the user was still alive. Damn you, UNSC armor protocols. Sweat stung her eyes like little needles, but with a determined grunt, she pushed on. Her muscles ached terribly, not able to seize any proper amount of respite. Eventually, the seal gave way coming loose from its housing with an audible pop. Throwing the headgear off to the side, she gazed upon her prize. And it made her blood boil.

"You!" Fist met flesh in a flurry of blows, spraying the viewscreen with spittle and blood. A weak groan whistled from his lips, head lulling to the side. "You don't have the right to die, you bastard! Not yet. Not until I'm done with you!" Hoisting him from the compartment, Tamara shoved his body off the mech with her boot. The heavy thud echoed around the chamber, despite the composite armor taking most of the impact. Traitor was a stain that could never be removed. No matter how much they scrubbed. No matter how many good deeds they performed in an effort to wash it away, it remained. Eternal, like the passage of time. The truth was bitter and unpalatable. Disgusting and miserable in any form she willed it to take. She could no longer ignore the fact that the Chief was right. Her own choices had irredeemably sullied her name and tarnished the reputation of the ODST. While it was impossible to change the past, her unique skill set could be utilized to erase other stains that could damage Humanity's future. She glared down at the man slowly pushing himself out of the puddle of fluids. Starting. With. You. Her heart beating with renewed purpose, she leapt down to meet the threat head on.

Chuff, chuff, chuff. The distinctive sound of whirring Falcon blades had never sounded so good. Dirt, dust, snow and ash swam in the overlapping air currents like gnats to a lamp. Each step took significant effort, despite the lack of a launcher. Her body was beaten black and blue and her mind was so, so done with this snowy, trauma-inducing hellhole. If she didn't step foot here in the next century it would be too soon. Getting off this rock was her only concern.

One of the few Marines standing around stepped forward to block her path, rifle aimed squarely at her chest. "Thunder!" His callout drew the attention of the other few soldiers guarding the bird. Standing at over six foot and built like a grizzly bear, the man looked like he could split her in two with his pinky.

"Crash!" The mammoth of a man lowered his assault rifle, but turned to face her as she walked past. The tactical goggles he wore couldn't hide the distrustful, cautious gaze in his stony eyes. They didn't trust her. And why should they? She didn't belong with them, not anymore. Guilt berated her unceasingly, like a drum set at a rock concert, refusing to let up even as a smartly dressed woman strode to meet her, Master Chief close behind.

"Where's the asset?" The lack of any semblance of an introduction solidified the woman's position. ONI. Under the pale green light of her night vision enhancement, the officer's sharp, cold eyes penetrated her soul. The layers peeled away like dead skin. She felt naked. Alone. Tamara hated being alone.

"What asset?" Playing dumb may not be the smartest decision, but she had long run out of fucks to give. If she could make this woman's day just the teeniest bit more miserable, she would jump at every opportunity.

Frowning deeply at the asinine reply, she ignored the comment in favor of pushing for additional information. "Alexander Reilcat. The asset I was sent to retrieve." She had to practically yell to be heard over the rotors, pressing a hand down to contain her windblown, raven locks.

"Oh, him. He's dead." Her smile grew with every word that flowed from her lips. This news was clearly a surprise for the operative, for she whirled on the Master Chief, accusingly jabbing a finger in his chest.

"It was your job to protect our asset. Now they're both gone!" Both? Wonder what happened to the other one.

"Apologies, ma'am. I was protecting civilians. I-"

"Don't fucking sass me, Chief! Just do your job!" Her jab finally killed the smirk on Tamara's lips. Chief had gone above and beyond what was required of him. He didn't deserve to be thrown under the bus. Her brain screamed at her to say something, but she kept her mouth shut. This fight wasn't meant for her. The harsh critiques bounced off the Spartan's armor like bullets, ineffective, but the sting still left an impression.

Meeting the operative's icy glare once more, the unsettling naked feeling returned. Guilt still riddled her body, but now it had been tempered by anger. "You had orders to capture on sight. He was a tier-2 asset, for god's sake!"

"Then next time, hop on a shuttle and get him yourself." She challenged, leaning in close enough to catch the dusting of freckles on the officer's nose. Rearing back as if she'd been shot, the agent's ebony hair writhing as if the words physically pained it.

"This is Captain Lasky. President Vatreem has ordered all UNSC forces to return to the nearest FOB, as this is now solely a Tribute Defense Militia operation. All civilians are to be escorted immediately out of any and all hot zones, either to a designated rally point or crisis center. This is no longer a joint operation. We've done our part. TDM can take it from here. Hell of a job, each and every one of you." An overwhelming sense of relief seeped into Tamara's bones. She had made it. Grit. Tenacity. Determination. These traits had allowed her to continue to breathe for another day. Tossing the Master Chief a nod of respect, the veteran surprised her yet again with a deep one of his own. Different orders, methodologies, and morals may guide them, but at the end of the day, Tamara could honestly say they were on the same side. The handful of troops quickly piled into the waiting bird. As the ground began to fall away from their feet, the ODST let herself relax for the first time since she crash-landed on this tropical nightmare. The kids had been rescued, she found a renewed sense of purpose and, most importantly, Alexander Reilcat had paid in blood for all of the pain and suffering he had inflicted upon those around him. Not bad for a day's work. Pausing a moment to look at herself another question slipped into her mind: How the hell am I going to get all this blood off?

Come Back Next Time!

I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! We will be finishing up RW:CL in a handful of chapters, but there are still a few key events I want to get in before we tie a neat little bow on the second book in the RW trilogy. That's all for this one folks! I promise it won't take me six months to get the next one out (fingers crossed)!