Halo 1. Chapter 1

This is the prologue to my story, so if you don't want to read it you won't miss any of the good parts. Basically for those just beginning to read this series it correlates the history of Halo with that of what happens in my previous story. This prologue also tells the history of Spartan Jordan 267, or War as his alias, of Gamma Company. I may or may not chose to continue this story depending upon the reviews.

Prologue

Darkness surrounded the lone occupant in the silent room. His breathing was labored, almost gasping for air. The movements were quick and erratic, as if he was escaping or fighting. Perspiration clung to his entire body and the sheets that entangled him. With a roar he reared up his hands clenched into fists. If anyone had been present to see the man's blue irises they could have sworn that they were glowing, but that would be impossible in a room without light.

The young man's breathing was slowing but the body remained tensed stuck in the fight or flight reaction. Eventually the man lowered his arms finally realizing that he was alone in the room. He ran his right hand through his hair feeling its' beyond regulation growth, then running down his face feeling the day old beard. Once his racing heart rate had settled he let out a sigh before he called out into the darkness.

"Mother, Lights!" he yelled in irritation when he looked at the clock seeing it read 4:05.

"My name is not Mother, Jordan." the said A.I. tersely as the lights came on.

The A.I. that Jordan had deemed Mother was actually named Athena. She was the Artificial Intelligence responsible for running the ONI the Marathon Class Stealth Cruiser. It was the only Marathon Class Cruiser that had been upgraded for stealth capabilities. Well that was the official word anyways. Her appearance was that of what her Greek goddess namesake. She seemed to glow with godly power. She wore armor akin to that of the ancient Spartans. A golden chest plate covered her entire chest, though it was molded to fit a woman's needs. A red cloak embroidered with gold draped over her shoulders, along with a red skirt around the waist. This goddess was armed with a shield with a screaming head on the left arm and a long spear on the right arm.

"Why do you keep calling me Mother anyways?" she asked her voice losing none of its bite.

"The last person who grounded me was my mother. That's why I call you Mother. Why don't you call me 267 or War?" Jordan replied as he threw the semi damp sheets off of him.

"I would hardly call being confined to quarters, being grounded. Besides Jordan is your name so I will call you as such."

"So what do you call it when someone is confined to one room, and is only allowed to leave under certain conditions?"

"A prisoner." she replied in somewhat humorous manner as he headed to the bathroom.

"Ha, ha. Very funny." he said without any enthusiasm.

He walked past the holographic A.I. with a serious look on his face. She watched him pass a thoughtful look on her face. Unlike Spartan II's, Spartan III's were not as inclined to hide their emotions. This was mostly beneficial to the A.I. who had the ability to analyze facial patterns, thermal changes, and access to each of the Spartan's psychological files. She had seen this type of behavior from him before. It had led to some of his self destructive tendencies.

The Spartan was already in the shower, the water clearing his mind, letting his thoughts wander back to his dream.

He was back on DRACO III and he was six again. The Covenant had invaded the planet and destroyed any military resistance. It had happened far too quickly. The Covenant seemed to have known how many UNSC forces were on the planet and where they were located.

Any survivors were rounded up for Covenant sport…or food. He and his family along with a few other strugglers to weakened to be of any fun were given to the grunts and jackals to be food.

He had remembered a tall bird like monster digging its' teeth into his mothers neck and one of the small blue diminutive creatures feasted on one of her legs. None of the monsters found him of any interest. The screams of the many around him sounded like a chorus of the damned as the monsters feasted upon the flesh on their bones. Acting on fear of his parent's safety more than anything else he tried to save them. His legs were shorter and arms weaker he stood no chance against these monsters but he attempted anyway. Small fists pummeled the orange clad creature. It was only a head taller than him, but it was full grown and a lot stronger. A half attempted back hand sent him sprawling back into the blood stained earth. All of the air in his lungs had been knocked out of him as he landed. As he recovered he stared into the orange hell tinted sky, ashes of the dead fell like rain. While he lay there something in him rose as he realized he was losing everything. His parents were dying or dead. The land of his birth was being burnt to the ground. Finally the blue sky that he had loved had been taken away.

Something primal in him rose, something viscous and highly volatile. He rose back up on his feet went back toward the small creature with idea of inflicting as much pain as possible. While the creature was still feasting on the twitching leg. Jordan wrapped his arms around the creature's neck and squeezed. A sickening pop was heard over the din of screams. Letting go the creature fell down to the ground dead. Blood and saliva drooled out of its open mouth.

A deafening silence seemed to encompass him, everything was drowned out as his actions brought him to reality. Long shadows fell over him blotting out the light of the orange sky. Turning up he saw that all the monsters had gathered around him. All of them were soaked with red human blood. He didn't have time to defend himself as they descended upon him. Punches and kicks came from all sides as they mobbed him.

A powerful voice ended the beating and the monsters moved away. By that point the was too beaten to even to attempt to lift his head. Bruises covered his entire body, and blood leaked out of open wounds. His red blood mixed in with ground the red muddy earth. He was fading in and out of consciousness as his brain attempted to save him by shutting him down, but he wouldn't go down not yet he would not let the darkness claim him.

His eyes could see the shadows on the ground part and for a moment a brief ray of light shone upon him. Then a shadow bigger than the others blotted out the light and he was lost in the shadow of that great giant. He gave weak attempt to raise his head, to see the face of the one that had called off the beating. The only thing he saw were green boots.

The large one spoke in a language he did not understand, nor really cared for that matter he was ready to die. Clawed hand grabbed by the back and the arms hauling him off the ground. Now he stared at the being that had called off the beatings. It was massive, and the thing of a monster's nightmares. It was clad in entire green armor and had one massive golden eye.

The massive being kneeled down to stare him face to face. Even kneeling though it was still taller than him. One clawed hand grabbed him by the hair and tilted his head back to stare at the golden eye. The thing had stared intently at him before drawing a blade on it's back.

There was a hiss as two sharp daggers of red light issued on a device attached to the left arm. His young mind could comprehend a word for the strange weapon other than a daggers. A long sword was drawn from the back. It was single sided like the blades of the Ninja's he watched on the HoloNet. A red light crackled up and down the length of that sinister blade before coating it in the red light.

This would be the one to kill him, he knew it as it drew back its weapons. He spat at the golden eye. A globe of blood and spit stained the eye, but much to his surprise the eye didn't blink but disappeared completely. When it vanished he stared into hard green eyes. It was then that he realized that it he was staring into the eyes of a human…the eyes of a cold killer. Red flashed across his vision. A burning pain erupted on his cheeks, he got one last look at those green eyes before he fell unconscious.

Opening his eyes he shut off the water and let the steam hang in the air like a sauna. He easily recalled what happened when he came to on that fateful day. Him and two other kids one male and the other female had been tossed into a small room with him. The male was white skinned, green eyed, and had blond hair. His name would be Apollo S-103. The female had soft brown skin, brown slanted eyes, and brown hair. Her name would be Eun Kyung, Eun for short, S-300. He closed his eyes again and let the memories flood forth.

The three of them had waited in the storage room before they were rescued by Spartan II's, needless to say the Spartan's expected to find frighten little kids what they got however was different. He had actually gone as far to punch the lead Spartan right in the helmet…which failed due to the shielding and resulted in a broken hand. Apollo had attacked with a broom, and Eun…well she had rigged several chemicals compounds into a bomb. If it wasn't for the quick actions of one of the Spartan's all three of the kids probably would have died.

When interviewed as why they had attacked the Spartan's the all three of the kids said that there had been a Spartan amongst Covenant ranks. Most naval personal swept this under the rug chalking it up to hysteria and stress. For a awhile the three had thought it was just their imagination until ONI was quick to make them disappear, which had lead all three of them to question this belief. He had quickly formed a friendship with both survivors. All three of them had passed the exam to be trained as Spartan III's when ONI had "found a use" or "adopted" them.

The several years that they were stuck on Onyx had been the best years of they're lives. They trained, slept, ate, and covered each others weaknesses. All three of them had an underlying motive besides killing the Covenant. They wanted to find if it was possible that a Spartan had tuned traitor, and make him pay.

The hope of finding this anonymous Spartan was soon quelled as the three had been separated after several mission where they had tried to access both Covenant and ONI secret files. He had gone to join the Alpha unit the Four Horsemen to fill in the spot as War. The other two had been incorporated into other teams. ONI had effectively separated the trio.

He didn't know which group the others had been assigned to which made it impossible to contact them. While he was with the Four Horse Men he was forced through some of the most grueling missions against the Covenant. These missions had lead him to Pandora. Pandora contain a mineral that could leap UNSC into a state where it could stand on even ground with the Covenant.

Too bad he committed a sin that would forever stain his soul…and that of humanities as well. One of the saddest parts about that thought was that ONI had covered that mission so deeply that no human would ever know of that atrocity.

Opening his eyes again he stared at the scars upon his wrists and recalled how he had gotten them. In that moment, when he had pressed the activation to the NOVA bomb, he had realized that he had become the very monster that he hunted. The sin of slaying an entire race had stained his conscious. When he was alone he used his combat knife to cut his very wrists. He did the act of cutting the flesh three times on each wrist. If the three other Spartan's and other office personal hadn't appeared at Athena's warning he would have bled out.

This act had immediately pulled out of active duty for several months for psychiatric evaluation. It had been the hardest part of his life. The guilt of destroying an entire world never left him for a second during his three month stay on some ONI holding facility on an unpopulated UNSC controlled world. In that time he was visited by both the Spartan III trainer Lieutenant Commander Kurt and Special Tactics Operations trainer Abbadon. Each had spent a week away from Spartan training to talk with him. It was rather surprising given the need for active Spartan's.

"We need every Spartan we have in this war." Kurt had said to him one time while they were talking.

He had responded by saying "Yeah we do. So leave me along and go train some." It was the only time that he had back talked to one of the men that he admired. Granted that wasn't much of an outburst, but among Spartans' that spoke volumes of emotion.

In the end however he had recovered in recovering what most Spartan's had lost, his humanity. From what he learned what it meant to be inhuman he had known what it had meant to value life. The psychiatrists had cleared him for active duty, but the higher ups were still unsure of his stability so they sent him on an easy security/spy detail. It was on this mission that he had faced the very forces of hell, and the repercussion's of his actions. One of the Navi had gone to hell out of rage at the Spartan that had destroyed Pandora. That Navi was so twisted with rage that it had come one of the demons. On his second tour through hell he had confronted his demon both physically and mentally. He had come to terms to his deed, accepting that it was the best course of action. For some reason that he could not fathom, even though he had come back battered and broken, he felt at peace after going through hell. Which sounded rather ironic after thinking about it. Now he was on his way to Earth to help whatever fledgling forces of the UNSC remained.

Taking a towel off a hanger he began to dry his body off. When he was done he wrapped it around his waist and exited the bathroom. The change in temperature of the bathroom to his room was apparent upon the mist that formed around his body as it cooled. Jordan paused to take a look at a shelf that was dedicated to his many accomplishments. Death had called it his trophy case.

Several Elite helmets sat upon there rows of the shelf. Row one held the horn of the demon that he had helped Zuka and several other Elites to kill. The second row was filled with four helmets of the red Major Elites that he had found worthy fighters. Above that were a mixture of the black and white of the Covenant Special Operations division. On the top row alone by itself was the shinning gold of a Zealot head piece. That particular Elite was the only one that he fought that could have taken on a Spartan II alone and might win. Almost all of the scars on his body had come from that particular fight. Besides the Elite's martial prowess the only thing that truly surprised him were it's dying words "It's a shame we could not have been brothers."

The hand not holding the towel drifted to his midsection where he bore a scar where the Elite's two pronged blade had pierced him. When he had gotten back to UNSC controlled space the Doctor's had said it was a damn miracle that the blade hadn't severed his spine. They had said that if it wasn't for the gap in the Covenant's Energy sword he would be in a wheel chair.

"It's a shame." he muttered aloud.

"You do know I'm still in the room right?" Athena said aloud.

"Yeah." he responded in some what dark tone at being interrupted.

"So how much longer till we reach Earth?"

"We will be there in one hour."

"One hour…how long did I sleep?" the Spartan asked somewhat stunned.

"You slept for about nineteen hours." the Avatar said some what impressed by how long he slept.

His own face was contorted in shock before he focused on the mission on hand. "So how many Spartan's have been called back to Earth for this final hurrah?"

"Spartan II teams Black and Gray. For Spartan III teams Four Horsemen, Bug Hunter, Glaive, and that's odd…"

"What is it?" he asked without much interest as he began to put on the plain grey clothes of the UNSC.

"The last team name is team Ravager…"

The Spartan stopped with shirt halfway over his head. The situation in itself would have been comical if it wasn't for the seriousness of the matter. When the Spartan finally got a hold of himself he put his shirt on.

"Ravager huh? Well I guess it's about time we get the group back together." he said calling back memories of his teammates. Now the question remained. Why were they being called back together again after these many years?

"Athena, lift the lock. I'm suiting up."

"About damn time." the A.I. said with a devilish smile.

I know the proluge kind of sucked, but I am doing this to set up for most of the story. The timeline of this story takes place during Halo 3. Oh, if you are unfamilar with the origin of this story I recommend that you read the Halo Doom Crossover titled Hellstorm.


	2. Things Get Bad

Spartan 267 stood impatiently, fully decked in his Spartan III Berserker armor, in the elevator that would take him to the hangar bay. For advanced as this ship was the Spartan couldn't believe how long the elevator ride took. Although he hadn't considered that most natural humans didn't have the reaction time that he did, or even come close to his strength for that matter. The others present, ranging from technician to ODST, on the spacious elevator gave him a wide berth. He naturally took no offense to this as he had become accustomed to these reactions. Among Spartan's though he was an anomaly, for multiple reasons. One of the most known was that he had made friends outside the Spartan family. No one chastised him for his out going nature, but found it odd that he would actively do so.

Being bored out of his mind he ran his second diagnostic on his armor since he had gotten on the elevator. His armor was the traditional green with the yellow/orange face plate. His however was customized to fit his more deadly, and slightly crazy, battle tactics. The natural camouflage of the basic Spartan SPI armor had been incorporated into the Berserker variant. On his arms he bore a pair of gauntlets that housed razor sharp blades. The bulk looking pack on his back was a Jump Pack meant for climbing terrain quickly that would be difficult or otherwise impossible to climb. The thickness of his armor had also been increased, after all a Berserker had to be able to take a lot of punishment. The only downfall of his armor was that it lacked any of the shielding that was common on the newer models.

Suit Camouflage…

Running at 100%.

Suit Med Dispersion…

Running at 100%.

Suit Movement and Articulation…

At optimal levels of efficiency…not at 100% but within standard operating capacity.

Suit Jump Pack…

Running at 100%

Built in blades response times…

On his right hand the Spartan triggered three half a meter long blades to pop out with a satisfying _shink._

Nearly every one aboard either shut up or turned to stare at the Spartan. Glancing up the Spartan noticed that he was getting a lot of nervous stares. The Spartan smiled under his helmet at the nervous personal around him. If he wanted to he could spill they're guts across the flower faster than they could blink. He couldn't count how many times he had been in this before. The best way to ease the attention was with this one line.

"You guys wouldn't know how much of a pain it is to wipe your ass with these things on."

This had earned a few chuckles from the ODST's, and nervous laughter from the technicians. Eventually the elevator came to a stop and the doors parted. The ODST's walked out of the elevator as if nothing had happened, but the technicians were not as graceful upon exiting the elevator as a few of them stumbled their own feet.

The Spartan was the last to exit into the enormous hanger bay. A low whistle escaped the Spartan's mouth as he examined the entire arsenal of weapons, vehicles, and air craft being launched into this fight.

From the top to bottom of the hangar bay was a bustle of activity. He counted at least of the eight of the Vulture Heavy Gunship. Each was one was armed with 4 GUA-23/A linkless feed .50 BMG rounds and A74 Sylver Vertical Missile Launcher with Anvil IV ASM Missiles. One was nasty, eight was overkill. Then again as a Berserker overkill was not in his vocabulary. Also amongst the assembled air craft was a couple dozen Hornets, a dozen Hawks, and a few suborbital long-range bombers Shortswords.

For ground vehicles the assortment and the range was far larger than the air vehicles. The largest of these was the Mammoth. This was basically double the size of an Elephant and a true mobile fortress. It was equipped with a half a meter of Titanium armor. Five N247 GPMGT Auto Cannon for infantry to air craft, one 8 MJ LRG Rail Gun for armored units, and to top it off it had a missile silo that used the A74 Sylver Vertical Missile Launcher. It was a beast that even a Spartan would think twice before assaulting. Only one of these was present in the hanger. Alongside it were it's smaller cousins, the Elephants. He counted at least five of these.

Next on the list of armored units were the tanks, and there were a lot of them. The largest of these were the Grizzlies. Eight of these sat idly by waiting to unleash death. These monsters had a double 120mm High-Velocity (HV) Gun, M247T Machine Guns, and S1 Canister Shell "Grapeshot". It's smaller cousin was the Scorpion and there was at least sixteen of these. Cobras were next on the list of UNSC tanks. These mobile Anti-Armor units were armed with two 16 MJ LRG Guns when mobile, and an 8 MJ LRG Rail Gun when it's lock down mode. "Absolutely devastating." were the two words used to describe this vehicle. Ten of these were lined up in a row behind the Scorpions and Grizzlies. Only one tank was purposed for Anti-Air, the Wolverine. This Anti-Air killer was armed with Argent V Missiles that were purposed for killing Air units, and in the Spartan's experience didn't mean they could be repurposed, and a XM510 Multi-shot grenade launcher. There were 10 of these behind the row of Cobras. Of these tanks only one stood out from all others. The Spartan equivalent of tanks. The Rhino. It was armed with the 320mm Zeus cannon, which had a 100 kilometer range, that was only used in siege-based heavy weapons bombardment. "Scarab Killer" was all that was needed to be said to describe this devastating weapon. Six of these sat behind the row of Wolverines.

Now there was the light armored units. These were basically Mongooses and Warthogs. The Mongoose was basically an All-Terrain vehicle that had no weapons, but supported a driver and a passenger. Thirty of these were scattered through out the hanger. Of the Warthogs there were four different variants. There was the troop carrier that could hold up to ten passengers. Then there were three different mounted variant Warthogs. There was M41 Light Antiaircraft Gun variant, machine gun. M68 Gauss Cannon variant, which was best used against vehicles. And finally there was the Rocket Mounted Hog that used the M52 Rocket Launcher. There was twenty-five of them scattered around the Hanger.

This was the third largest mobile unit that he had seen in his career. The largest was on the planet Reach, and the second largest was on Arcadia.

"Enjoying the toys?" asked a familiar voice. It was a voice that had some pleasant and some not so pleasant memories of his previous mission. Turning his head the Spartan saw a green holographic woman dressed in an elegant military uniform.

"So Aveon how's it going?" the Spartan asked in a rather casual manner.

"You wouldn't believe the amount of screening I had to go through before those ONI pricks would clear me for active duty. Is it too much too ask for a girl to get a little privacy?"

"Those ONI techs don't get out very much so they take any woman they can get. Besides with your rocking body if you were real, privacy would be a rare commodity."

"Ah, I'm flattered. But if I was real you wouldn't be allowed to touch this." Aveon said as she gestured to her chest and down.

"Ouch. To bad the ONI tech boys couldn't remove your cynicism."

"With this girl your going to get a lot of cynicism." she paused as if receiving orders. "The rest of the team is gathered and your presence is requested at this destination." Aveon finished saying as she set a NAV marker at a point behind the Mammoth.

"Best not to keep them waiting then." the Spartan said before taking off in a jog.

"So who are we waiting for again?" asked a black armored Spartan with the Roman numerals III. This Spartan's voice was male

"Black Three I've already told you." said another black armored Spartan with the Roman numerals IV. This Spartan's voice was also male.

Black Three was quiet before asking "So who is it?"

"Damn it Three." Black Four said staring at his brother in arms.

"Chill Black Four." another black armored Spartan. This one had the Roman numerals II, this one was feminine.

"Black Three his name is.." began the last member of black team, and the team's Leader Black I. She was the leader of this vocal group of Spartans. As she was cut off.

"Spartan-267 present." came a voice that made the gathered Spartan's turn their heads to the newcomer.

All of the Spartan's gathered their began to evaluate the young Spartan and the threat level he presented. They didn't regard him as an enemy, but were just evaluating his strength and weaknesses. Which was hard with another Spartan. This was natural for Spartan's to try and asses their peers while at the same time trying to remain as vague as possible.

"Good to see you brother." said a another familiar voice to 267.

Apollo-103 in his red armor came up to the green armored Jordan-267. Apollo offered his hand which Jordan was all to happy to accept. Behind Apollo in a black metal grey was Eun-300. She approached from Jordan and also shook his hand as well. He couldn't see their faces due to the polarized visors but he could guess that they were smiling like him.

"If your done with the family reunion it's time to get serious." said a stern, hard, and very cold voice.

All the Spartan's gathered snapped to attention as Captain Royce entered. Royce was a tall man even by Spartan standards. Royce stood just a few centimeters under being two meters tall. What was more intimidating than Royce's height was his face. The skin was a dull hued tan, and he bore plasma scaring on the right cheek. His hair was cut down to regulation length and neatly trimmed, like his brown beard. The most intimidating factor was the brown eyes that held back his furious incorruptible will.

"Spartan's at ease." said coming to a parade rest around the Spartans.

"Athena lights." Royce said in his don't-make-me-wait voice.

Immediately lights dimmed an the UNSC emblem appeared just before the Captain.

"As you all know the Covenant have found Earth, and it is our duty to kill every last one of them."

Not a single Spartan twitched as they watched the Captain.

"Intel has gathered that this ship is holding the final leader of the Covenant hierarchy." An image of a triangular ship appeared before them with an analysis of its dimensions.

"This leader, this Prophet of Truth has landed in the mega-city of New Mombassa. The Ship is on an alien artifact that was buried underneath the city. I am not allowed to fully debrief on the nature of these artifacts, but I must tell you this. If this Prophet gets what he wants every single life in the galaxy will end." Royce ended letting the weight of the situation sink in. He looked for any sign of weakness among the polarized visors but found none.

"This mission has three stages. First we regroup with the forces at Crows Nest. From there we will take back the city of New Mombassa with our forces here and any other UNSC forces we find on our way there. Once we take back the city we are to destroy all of the Covenant Anti-Air units so that the Navy can come in and work on destroying the ship. If that fails then all Spartans are to board the ship and ensure that the Covenant threat ends. Any questions?"

Not a single Spartan spoke up. This was a suicide mission and they were attracted to it like moths to a flame.

"Good, well then lets get started."

Spartan Team Black and Ravager were put together as Co-joint unit. It was official that Black I had leadership of all the Spartans. She had ordered all Spartan's suit up and arm themselves with the weapons that they saw fit. If she had known what team Ravager had planned then she might have taken the time to chose her words more carefully. As Spartan 267 strapped two Archer missiles to the sides of their Pelican Drop Ship.

"How did you even get these?" Three asked incredulously.

"I know a guy." was all that 267 said cryptically.

"These are meant for ship-on-ship based combat, what do you plan doing with them?" asked Four.

"I'll find a use." 267 responded just as cryptically as before.

"If he doesn't use for them then I will." spoke Eun off handedly ass she loaded M41SSR Rocket Launcher and M319 Grenade Launcher into the Pelican.

"Are you about as worried about our teammates as I am?" Four asked Three.

"In all honesty I like this group." Three responded.

"I should have asked a smarter person that question." Four said as he rested his head in his hand.

Apollo came behind the taller Spartans and had observed the entire conversation. He made his presence known with a chough. Both Spartans whipped around quickly to face him, it was obvious that they were not used to being snuck up on.

"Which one of you is Black team's sniper?" Apollo asked.

"That would be me." responded Four.

"I'm Apollo, Ravager's sniper." Apollo said extending his hand to the other Spartan which the other Spartan gladly took and shook.

"I am looking forward to working with you and your team."

"Same here."

"I have looked up to you Spartan II's as the forefathers of the Spartan III's."

"Thank you." Both Spartan's said simultaneously.

"But I have to wonder though which group is the better sniper? I mean sure you guys were the best, but I wonder if your age has affected your skills?"

"Are you calling us old?" Four asked sounding almost threatened.

"I'm calling you an old soldier that may no longer be in his prime, and whose skills aren't up to snuff. Well anyways I'll see you guys in action soon enough." as Apollo walked away knowing that he had just set up the ultimate contest.

"Did he just do what I think he did?" asked Four.

"Yeah I think he just insulted you." responded Three.

"Me? He insulted all of us."

"If you would remember his words he said 'you' when he when he was talking to you. He was challenging you specifically."

"I think I'm going to take that challenge. I'm going to show which group has the better sniper."

"Okay then you do that, but my money is not on the old soldier." Three said smartly as he ducked a swipe at his head.

The hanger doors of _The Unseen Hand_ opened and out poured an entire collection of ships. Longswords escorted the group with three different levels protection for each group. The outer most group had the most protection, though it carried the least necessities of the mission. Mainly this was Marine personnel, and the light armored transport carrier. Next was another line of Longswords that protected the heavy armor transport. The last and final level had fewest number of Longswords and carried the most vital equipment to the mission. The Spartans. Except for one heavily burdened Pelican that lagged behind in the first 'sphere' of protection.

All of Black Team was crammed in alongside team Ravager. With the amount of equipment, explosive ordinance, and Spartan armor there wasn't enough room for a fart.

"Did we really need all this?" One asked the Spartan team.

"Yes." they answered simultaneously.

One raised an eyebrow at this but didn't proceed to question it any further.

"I noticed that your files didn't mention a team leader. Why is that?" she asked trying get more familiar with the team she was working with that.

All of team Ravager looked at each other discussing via their suits radios. It was Eun who spoke up first. "Sir, we have no team leader because well, we don't keep the same leader for each mission."

"What?" One asked not believing in what she was hearing.

"In our mission's we aren't sent deep into Covenant held space, and for the most part on are on our own. Since each mission is different, it requires a different plan. Out of the three of us the one that comes up with the best plan is the 'leader' for that mission."

"And that works?" Two asked the question that was on the mind of every member of Team Black.

"752,000 Covenant troops, fifteen Prophets, eight Covenant Corvettes, three Super Carriers, two Destroyers, and one Flagship later." Apollo said letting the statement of their kill record speak for their teamwork.

One immediately grew serious on their version of 'teamwork' and 'leadership'. Her team intermixing with theirs could lead to snags in the field, and snags meant death. She had to get one thing across these younger Spartans.

"I know that your previous method of has gotten you this far. But I need to make it clear that I am the leader of this joint operation. I can't have you giving out orders that could confuse my teammates, our yours for that matter. Follow my orders and I will make sure that you survive this mission. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes sir." they responded with salutes just as quickly as the question was given. This didn't surprise One a whole as Spartans' were used to taking order from unknown superior officers. What surprised was at how quickly they responded.

"In order for this team to work effectively I need to know what your specialties are. Eun you start first."

"Sir." Eun began giving respect to her superior. "I am the team's explosive expert, tech expert, and Covenant Translation expert. My armor abilities include a standard shield, and Armor Lock."

One nodded to acknowledge her skills. The team didn't really need a translation expert given the new translation software, but a tech and explosive expert would be handy. She then turned her attention to Apollo.

"Sir, like the god of my namesake implies I am the teams medic and marksman. My armor abilities include Active Camouflage, Hologram, along with a standard shield."

One nodded nodding, a Spartan sniper, not something she already had but was still damn useful.

She turned her head to the final Spartan Jordan. She had already read all of their files, but his had the most black ink, and those were just the ones ONI had bothered to give her.

"Sir. I specialize in close quarters combat, recon, and the best pilot of the group. I have no shields, but I do have an Active Camouflage, Jump Pack, and these." Jordan finished saying as his claws popped out of their sheaths.

"Where can I get a pair of those?" Three asked with awe and reverence to the blades.

"You don't have shields? And you do recon?" asked thinking it a little odd for a frontline Spartan _to not_ have shields.

"The thick armor does its job. Besides the Covenant may not see me coming, but all their going to hear is their guts hitting the ground.

"Nicely put." Four said with some admiration.

One frowned under her helmet. As deadly as this Spartan was, in this mission he would need shields in order to survive. This wasn't a mission were the Covenant didn't know they were coming, the Covenant knew they were coming and they would bring their entire might against them. With the Covenant's KILL SPARTANS ON SIGHT FIRST policy, that armor could only take so much punishment before it would give. That's why he needed shields. When they hit ground she would be sure to get him out of that armor even if she had to bodily rip it off him.

One was about to comment on this when the radio crackled on the emergency frequency.

"Hostile contact! We have a Covenant a Destroyer in bound with Sher.." whatever the pilot was going to say was lost as the Pelican was violently shaken.

One immediately started shouting out orders, even as she was in midair.

"Ravager squad get in there and check on the pilots! Black Team secure all equipment!" she didn't know why she had sent Ravager into the cockpit and not her own, other than her gut had told her too. A Spartan followed their gut instinct more closely than followed orders.

Ravager immediately disappeared into the cockpit with a whoosh of the sliding door. Black team meanwhile went about securing any loose items that could be fatal in such turbulence. After everything was secure Eun reappeared through the door with both the pilot and copilot. Unconscious or dead she couldn't tell, not that it was her primary concern anyways.

"What are 267 and 103 doing?" she asked as she helped Eun to strap both bodies into the safety harnesses.

Eun was about to speak but the radio chatter answered her question for her.

"Good morning passengers of Pelican Flight 437 to New Mombassa. I am your Captain Apollo…"

A dark mumur was heard but what was said couldn't be made out.

"Why's that?"

More banter could be heard from 267, but of course was undistinguishable.

" Of course I'm Captain I have the radio…"

There was another pause as 267 spoke.

"Oh, now your just being childish."

A loud curse was heard along with what sounded like a threat.

"You wouldn't dare…"

A single response was all that came back.

"Fine if it means that much to you, you big baby…this is Co-Captain Apollo with Captain _cough_ douche bag _cough_ Jordan. Their seams to be heavy turbulence ahead and recommend that passengers buckle up for code level "**HOLY SHIT! WE'RE GOING TO DIE**". If you would please look to 300 for instructions on how to buckle up for a code level "**HOLY SHIT! WE'RE GOING TO DIE**. " We thank you for your cooperation." Apollo finished.

All of team Black looked to Eun as she violently seated her ass next to the pilots. She took every harness and strapped it over herself. Then she quickly clamped the crash harness over herself, before doing the Roman Catholic hand sign of the cross and murmuring the Lords prayer. Black team gave Eun a confused glance before they found themselves on the ceiling. Then found themselves tumbling inside like clothes in washing machine as "Captain Jordan" navigated his way through "heavy turbulence."

If Black Team thought the inside of the Pelican was insane, then what was happening outside would have blown their minds. Jordan-267 controlled the spinning ship along with the forward guns. Apollo had command over missile deployment and the rear turret. The Spartan wove in and out of the hail of plasma fire, trying to keep them alive. He knew that another hit could cost them dearly. The Brute pilots may have been vicious, but they were not that good of a pilots.

Longswords and Seraphs engaged each other in viscous dog fights, with the playing field just about even. The UNSC Longswords had the advantage of better pilots, while the Covenant Seraphs had shielding technology. The Covenant however in like all their previous engagements had superior numbers. That was why a few had gotten pass the first layer of defense and were chasing down the Spartans Pelican like hounds on the trail of a fox. But this fox had a few tricks up its sleeve, not to mention the pilot was as crazy as one.

Mainly the 267 would avoid fire, take down the shields and let 300 finish them off with the missiles. 267 avoided one wounded enemy craft as it tried to kamikaze style dive-bomb on them but missed and ended up hitting a wingman. The purple based explosion shook the battered Pelican.

"We got five hostiles on our tail." Apollo spoke with a calm serenity. After all what did he have to be concerned about? The enemy had superior numbers, superior technology, and zealous drive to kill them all. But they had a Spartan that could actually take his victories into space.

"Arm missiles and fire on my mark." was the cold calculating reply.

Apollo kept firing the rear turrets at the enemy craft to keep them from getting a clean lock. He waited for when 267 would make his move. All the while the Seraphs were getting closer.

The Brute pilots were urging their machines onward as best they could, eager to shed blood and secure their place on the Great Journey. Their Great Journey however was going to be premature.

267 flipped the Pelican and at the same time triggered the rear thrusters avoiding one Seraph by mere inches.

"Mark!" was the order that came.

Apollo was all to happy too comply. Dozens of missiles streaked to the Seraph fighters. Two with weakened shields exploded on impact. A third lost all shields and was heavily damaged. It tried to limp away, but a quick squeeze on the trigger of the Pelican's yoke ended that problem. The last two were not in as dire straights as the others. Their shield's had been perfectly fine, the missiles had depleted their shield strength but otherwise they were unharmed.

The two fighters immediately split know that their quarry turned predator could only go after one of them. 267 knew this as well but was prepared for it. He followed his prey and whittled down the Seraphs shield before they could fully come back online. His prey soon outdistanced him and turned around for a retaliation strike.

267 didn't fire as the gap between the two ship's closed. The Brute had gone berserk with the loss of his clan and intended to end his opponents lives with his own. As the two ships closed 267 banked frequently to avoid the incoming shots at them from behind, while at the same time making sure that the Seraph behind them never regained its shields. When the ship in front of the Pelican was only a few meters away he moved to the side letting the Seraph pass him. The pilot of said Seraph turned his head to trace the Pelican. When he turned around to face the front it was too late. Both Seraphs were destroyed in a miniature sun as both reactor cores exploded.

With the threat gone 267 immediately leveled off and gave everyone a moment to relax. Spartan Team Black quickly recovered from the areas that they had held onto for dear life.

"This is your Captain speaking…" Apollo began.

"Co-Captain." 267 corrected.

Apollo glared angrily at the back of Jordan's helmet. He still couldn't believe that he had threatened him with that incident. If Eun found out she would never allow him to live it down.

"This is Co-Captain Apollo speaking. We have cleared the heavy turbulance and expect clear skies from here on out."

267 tilted the Pelican so that he could see the Covenant Destroyer for himself. He had found it odd that the Destroyer hadn't gone after _The Unseen Hand_. He soon got his answer as he saw the lateral lines of the Covenant's ship batteries beginning to charge.

"One! The Covenant Destroyer is targeting the convoy! Requesting permission to engage!"

"We can't take on a ship of that size!" One responded.

"We don't have to destroy it. We just need to make sure that they don't shoot down the convoy…we do have archer missiles." he said presenting his reason to the argument.

"The Covenant have to lower their shields in order to fire. Use the archer missiles to target their guns." was One's reply. If they died in this attempt and saved the rest of the Convoy One was fine with that. The mission came first…and the stakes couldn't have been higher.

267 gunned the Pelican's thrusters pushing them too their limits. He pulled up a diagnostic of the Covenant plasma guns and calculated how long it would take them too fire. Needless to say he didn't like the odds. As each second passed they were brought closer to the Destroyer. This wasn't 267's brightest idea but was a necessary one. Once his calculations were complete he sent the details over to Apollo. Only he could fire the Archer missiles. 267 didn't want to risk the time to bark out the order and miss the opportunity. Besides when it came down to judgments like this 267 trusted 103.

103 waited for the right moment. His marksman trained eyes examining everything in detail. Now. The Pelican shuttered as both missiles streaked away. 103 and 267 held their breath. Both missiles streaked passed the shields and into the charged Plasma Turrets unleashing hell inside the Destroyer's own shield.

"Goal accomplished." 267 spoke over the radio.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief, that that crisis had been averted. 267 and 103 stared out of the cockpit at the damaged Destroyer. It was far from dead, but' it had been badly scarred.

A warning alarm blared on 267's terminal as the radar picked up incoming enemy bogeys.

"We got Banshee's and Seraphs coming, and I don't think they want to congratulate us!" 103 spoke his voice cracking.

267 immediately turned the ship around heading back to the safety of the convoy. He knew however that the Covenant forces would catch them before they had even made half the distance. As was soon proven as the enemy began firing at them. The entire space around them was filled with bolts of different colored plasma.

"How much do we have left?" 267 shouted some what more heatedly than he meant to.

"Missiles are depleted and the turrets are low."

267 cursed mentally. They didn't have enough weaponry to fight back, and they were still to far away from the Longswords. That left only one option.

267 began to slow down the Pelican's velocity while not sacrificing his maneuverability. Several of the enemy craft zoomed past him. One of the Seraph's came to close and 267 slammed the Pelican into the Seraph. The two crafts became locked to one another.

"Apollo you have control of the ship." 267 said quickly as he unbuckled himself.

267 unclipped himself from his seat and headed back to the compartment area. Black Team watched him pass with confusion to the rear hatch.

"What are you…" One began before 267 opened the rear hatch and disappeared out into space.

Two was the closet to the controls and slammed the rear hatch shut.

"What is he doing?" One barked over the radio.

"Sir, he's found away to fight back." Eun spoke before Apollo could answer.

Eun was right as 267 climbed from the Pelican to the Seraph. Hand over hand 267 eased his way onto the Covenant fighter. When he got to the hatch of the Seraph he activated both of his claws. With his right claws he got under the armor and ripped the hatch off. With his other arm he lashed downward at the pilot. 267 grimaced as he realized that his strike had fallen short. He had managed to sever the Brute pilots air supply, but it wasn't dead. Using both hands he got the pilot out of the seat and flung him into the void of space. He quickly took the Pilot's seat and unlatched it from the Pelican.

"103 I only have fifteen minutes of air."

"Copy that 267. Good hunting."

The other Covenant fighters soon found themselves under attack from one of their own. Confusion and chaos seeped into the Covenant ranks at the unprecedented assault. This gave the Pelican the chance it needed to pull away. Brute pilots furiously tried to shoot 267 down, but it soon became apparent who the better pilot was.

267 gave out no cheer of victory, for each opponent that he shot down. When he was a pilot he took it as a no nonsense business. Besides he was still greatly outnumbered and couldn't afford to be cocky.

A couple times he had to sacrifice some of his avoidance moves to go shoot down a Banshee or two that would go after the Pelican. A couple of shots had hit him when the shields were down, but most of the damage was cosmetic.

After fourteen minutes and forty seven seconds, all of the Covenant forces coming after 267 were debris in space. 267 gave out a sigh of relief and allowed his muscles a chance to relax.

"267 we got a bogey on our tail and I can't shake him!" Apollo yelled over the radio.

267 immediately snapped the controls of the Seraph toward the direction of the Pelican. He cursed when he saw how far away it was. When he looked at the settings on his weapons he saw that they had been melted under such frequent use. This time he cursed out loud.

He pushed the damaged fighter as fast as it would go. The distance between them grew short.

Eight seconds of air left.

He had closed half the distance,

6 seconds of air left.

267 realized that he only had one choice available to him.

5 seconds of air left.

The Brute pilot had finally acquired a lock onto the Pelican. It grinned evilly.

4 seconds of air left.

Proximity klaxons warned the Brute of an fast approaching object from the rear. Turning his head the Brute saw it was the renegade Seraph. Before he could scream both Seraphs disappeared in a purple vapor.

"He…" Three didn't finish his sentence as he saw both Seraph's disappeared.

The oncoming on depression was quickly swept aside as 267's voice crackled over the radio.

"Two seconds of air left…help." he said his voice weak from the lack of oxygen.

"Where is he!" One barked over the radio to Apollo.

"Directly behind us. I'm slowing down."

One nodded to two who pressed the open button on the controls. Air rushed out of the cabin as it depressurized. Three and Four stood firm against the torrent of rushing air. 267 came into view of the Pelican as his previous velocity had not slowed down. Three and Four extended their own hands while not losing their purchase on the Pelican. 267 had had his hands extended to them to anticipation. When he came close enough they hauled him in. Two then closed the rear hatch doors, allowing the cabin to re-pressurize.

267 ripped off his helmet and deeply sucked in some much needed O2. The relief in the cabin was apparent.

"Good flying kid." One said with some admiration to the Spartan pilot.

"If this is just the beginning of the mission I can't wait to see what'll come at us groundside." Three said a little cockily as he and Four hauled 267 to his feet.

267 grinned at Three before putting his helmet back. One frowned as she once again was reminded of the vulnerability presented by 267's armor. It was outdated, and his connection to it could cost him his life. When they hit ground side he _was_ getting a more up to date armor.

"I hate to break the party, but we got a problem." Apollo began.

The air again in the room soon grew serious as a problem to a Spartan could mean their lives.

"The landing gear isn't responding." Apollo said gravely.

All eyes turned to 267. Everyone's armor could survive re-entry due to their shielding. Jordan-267's armor would not.


	3. My Luck is that BAD

The air in the Pelican was still tense as the Spartans' decided what to do. To stay on the Pelican was almost a guarantee suicide. All present Spartans', aside from Jordan, could safely jump out of the Pelican as it entered into Earth's atmosphere due to their shielding. Jordan of course had no shielding and left him with the least likely hood of surviving. He would go down with the crashing Pelican. Needless to say most One was not thrilled with his idea and stated it many times.

After identifying the problem, and getting over Jordan's stupid idea, One made a plan on how to deal with it. Her and the Spartans with shields would jump out of the Pelican once it had entered Earth's atmosphere. The Spartans that were jumping would take as much equipment with them as possible. However they would leave the remaining Spartan with enough weapons should he survive the crash. Now _if_ said Spartan were to survive the crash than he was too either A) remain put with Pelican until available personal would regroup with him, B) if Covenant hostiles were too numerous was too abandon the ship and regroup with friendly personal, or C) if he landed close to the Objective than he was too soften up enemy personal until friendly personal arrived. Needless to say 267 liked option C the best.

"When we regroup we are going to update your armor." Were One's parting words before she jumped out of the falling/crashing Pelican.

267's only nodded his head response as he controlled the falling ship as best he could.

Now 267 sat alone in the cockpit of the Pelican determined not to die just yet, he had Covenant to kill after all. Red flames covered the glass of the cockpit as the friction of the air reduced the speed of the falling Pelican. Although this change in velocity was minimal. Jordan had opted to "land" the Pelican close to a UNSC Vehicle production facility that was a mile or so from the Objective. This choice would satisfy all three options as he could stay near the Pelican so that any UNSC personal present in the facility would mostly likely check the Pelican for survivors. Or if not, he could leave the Pelican behind and grab a vehicle and use it to get to the Objective. Being a Spartan he opted for the latter as he was not one to stay still.

267 could now see his objective coming into sight and realized something. He would be crashing a lot closer to the facility than he intended. In fact he would be crashing into it.

"_Oh this is going to hurt." _were the last thoughts that ran through his head before he crashed into the building.

When 267 finally came to consciousness he found it odd that the nose of the Pelican would be pointed toward the ceiling. After touching the release on his harness he found out the hard way that the ceiling in fact was not the ceiling but the floor, as his helmet cracked into the glass of the cockpit.

"Well if I didn't have suffer any skull trauma during the crash I most certainly have now." 267 said as he picked himself off the floor.

Pain wracked his entire body. Pain was good. It meant that he was still alive. He set his pain aside for now as he had to secure a perimeter and assess any hostiles. When he was given time he would examine the extent of the damage done to his body.

Moving to the equipment locker stored in the cockpit he opened and grabbed all the materials inside. Inside the locker was a standard issue Assault Rifle, Pistol, and four Grenades. What was not standard UNSC weaponry were two Covenant Energy Swords, and 267's own custom knife. He properly secured each armament to a place that would be in easy reach. The pistol went along his right thigh, the grenades were placed in pouches along his belt, and the swords went on the small of his back. The knife however was placed into the scabbard on his chest.

Once everything was to his satisfaction he exited out of the cockpit Assault Rifle forward. The sliding door of the cockpit startled several Jackals that had come to scout out the downed Pelican. 267 wasted no time in going full auto. Purple alien blood, organs, and limbs splattered the entire troop bay of the Pelican. In an odd twist of circumstances the troop bay of the Pelican had lived up to the name "Blood Pan" but this was the first time the 267 had seen one covered in Covenant blood.

"Isn't irony a bitch?" 267 asked a Jackal that he passed by on his way out of the Pelican. Though the Jackal was probably to busy holding his entrails inside itself to pay any attention to the rhetoric question.

Upon exiting the Pelican he came face to face with a squad of grunts and their pissed of Brute Commander.

"Kill the Demon!" roared the brute.

Immediately the Grunts began to fire off their guns. Luckily for 267 Grunts weren't known for their ability to aim. 267 let off a few burst from his Assault Rifle as he sought cover. Alien blood and guts spilled across the track of the Warthog production line.

The Spartan eventually managed to take cover behind a Warthog that was mostly complete aside from the fact that it had no wheels. The Brute Commander roared at the four remaining grunts to circle around while he jumped the cowardly Demon. Fear of their master's whip drove them forward despite what reason stated.

The Brute jumped on top of the unfinished Warthog and pointed his Spiker at the ground where the Demon ought to have been, but was not. A foul aroma reach the Brute's sensitive nostrils. Turning his head to the source of the smell he saw all four of his grunts butchered. The most fortunate Grunts had only their heads loped off while one was ripped almost in half and the other…well all four of it's limbs were spread out in a two meter radius. As the gogre in the Brute's throat rose so did it's fear. How could the Demon have done this? Where they as demonically gifted as was rumored?

"Over here." came the softest whisper in the human's heretic tongue.

The Brute whipped out around spraying spikes in a wide arc. He hit nothing but empty air. Confusion over came the Brute's face. Had he truly heard the voice. To answer his question pain erupted his right arm it arm as it was lopped off. A scream of pain came out of his mouth. He grabbed the injured limb in a vain attempt to stop the blood from pouring out.

"Over here." came the taunting whisper again.

In anger the brute made a vain swipe but once again hit nothing. The Brute was about to turn and run favoring life over an honorable death. The slicing of flesh stalled him as his back of his neck was pierced all the way through. Astonishment, crossed the Brute's face as it stared at the gore covered blade that had pierced him. One last agony raped his spine as it was hauled out of his body. The Brute was dead but it had not lost consciousness. It could only stare in amazement has his head and spine was turned to face his executioner. There he stared the Demon it's cold unblinking golden eye.

"Well this is good start." 267 said as he tossed the spine head combo away from him.

He reseated his blades and took his Assault Rifle off his back. Checking his built in Compass he headed in the direction of his Objective eager to kill some Covenant. This Spartan was full of energy and was going to hit the Covenant like a horse kick to the groin.

The upper torso of a Jackal splattered against the wall, entrails dripping important fluids. It was not the first to die as it and several of it's bigger Skirmisher cousins laid broken and mangled in the entire hallway.

Three of the last twenty of the Jackal squad, and last Skirmisher backed up from the monstrosity that had killed most of their brethren. It was the only race that the Covenant truly feared a Demon.

267 looked at the last of his four opponents, his knife and pistol drawn. He would have gunned them down with his AR if a Jackal hadn't burnt it in half with an over charged shot. Then again it wouldn't have been burnt in half if hadn't needed to use it as a makeshift shield.

The Skirmisher charged firing it's plasma pistol. This action spurred the remaining Jackals into action. 267 could not retreat and their was no cover in the corridor so he charged. The two opposing forces met. Needless to say there was no competition. A knife to the Skirmisher's temple ended it's life instantly. Using his pistol he squeezed off six shots, three for each Jackal. One headshot for each one, along with a double tap to the chest. Ripping out his knife out of the dead Skirmisher he tossed it end over end at the Jackal. Much to his disappointment the knife had lodged in it's beak and had not killed it as he had hoped. However said Jackal was freaking out at having knife lodged in it's beak that it had dropped it's Carbine. 267 briefly watched with some amusement as the Jackal struggled to get the knife out.

He then calmly walked up to the struggling Jackal and grabbed his knife by the hilt with his left hand, simultaneously crushing the Jackals fingers. Bone was bent out of the flesh.

"Let me help you with that." 267 said as he ripped the knife out of the Jackal's beak from where it was lodged to the front of it's beak.

The Jackal now had a use less mouth separated into four mandibles. Taking his right hand he placed the pistol in the Jackal's now useless mouth.

"_Split chin."_ he thought oddly as he pulled the trigger blowing out the Jackal's brain.

267 cleaned off his knife and surveyed the carnage. He had long ago grown numb to numb to killing the Covenant in an odd disturbingly manner. Besides, Covenant did worse.

267 policed the weapons' of the Covenant dead. He had scrounged up several different grenades and a Jackal shield. Now all he had to do was decided on which rifle to take. He could choose between the Carbine and the Needle Rifle. Both rifle's had distinctive advantages and disadvantages. With Carbine he got more penetration power. With the Needle Rifle it had exploding rounds that would send a pink crystal shrapnel scattering in all directions. In the end he decided on the Needle Rifle as it was the weapon with the most abundant ammo among the Covenant dead.

Satisfied with his choice of weaponry he took a moment to check the Comm Frequency to see if there were any allies broadcasting nearby.

"under atta…need assistan…look human… not hum…argh." was the voice that came over his headset.

It was a Grunt that had spoken, no surprise there, they had no discipline. What was surprising though was the message. Although he could have ignored it, the message was rather curious. This warranted investigation…though this could be a trap. Well he wouldn't find out if he just stood around musing about the idea.

"Well either way I get to kill something." said in a rather cheery mood.

As the Spartan made his rounds through the complex to the origin of the transmission he encountered very few Covenant. He only met individual Grunts when he entered rooms or hallways. Which was odd in of it's self as Grunts were never seen alone. Another odd thing that added to his growing suspicion was that all of the Grunts had been facing the origin of the transmission with weapons raised. He guessed that the transmission did hold some weight of truth to it.

As he got closer to his destination he countered no Covenant what so ever. This made him tense, something about this was very unnatural. He was less than forty meters from his destination. He had cross-referenced a map with origin of the signal which showed him that the signal came from the dockyards of the facility. Another thing that unnerved him was how spacious the dockyards were on the map. A perfect place for Jackal snipers to take roost.

The customary sliding door of the UNSC brought him back to the present. As soon as he was passed this hallway he would be in the dockyard. When he was about halfway through the hallway a tremor rocked the facility and caused all of the lights to flicker off. 267 was caught off balance by the tremor but soon regained it. When the lights did not come on immediately he activated his helmet's night vision. A green hue overtook his vision as the night vision activated, illuminating the hall before him. Raising his Needle Rifle he proceeded forward once more.

As the last door parted he found himself in the dockyard. Crates with precious materials were stacked from floor to ceiling. What immediately grabbed his attention and made him stop in his tracks at the amount of blood and gore that he saw. The fluorescent blue blood of the Covenant Grunts covered the floor in streaks, along with all the other species of the Covenant. More disturbing however was that no bodies were present to account for the amount of blood. There were a few pieces and limbs scattered about but nothing that would amount for the blood at all. As he traced some of the streaks he saw that some of them went up and over some of the tallest crates.

As his eyes traveled upward he noticed that the light was heavily filtered. Upon looking through the windows he saw that heavy smoke snuffed out most of the sunlight.

Was the Covenant glassing Earth? It would explain the quake and the smoke…but that still did not help his predicament any as he still didn't know what killed the Covenant troops present. Speaking of which he got the strange vibe that there was something was wrong with everything. Everything felt too coincidental to not have been orchestrated.

Lifting his weapon he proceeded to back up feeling the need to some where else any where but here. It was not fear per say but an intuition that this was a trap. Upon turning around to go back through the door he found that someone…no something impeded his progress. The being lashed out with a punch and he found himself flying through the air. As soon as he hit the ground he rolled backward and brought his rifle up, only to see the same chalk white being grab his rifle with one hand and used the other hand to uppercut to him on the chin. He felt his body lift up into the air under the force of the blow, but his opponent was not done as it took his Needle Rifle and brought it around like a baseball bat to his midsection.

He tumbled through the air and his body literally broke through a crate. His entire body hurt under the strain, but he got up anyways after all he had taken worse hits than this.

The soft pitter patter of feet got his attention. Raising his arms he grabbed the punch directed at his head. Finally he got a good look at his assailant. The hand was cuffed in a black bracelet which stood in contrast to the chalk white skin. The hand of course lead to a chest that had…breasts? It was a she? Staring at the face he could see pursed black lips, slanted eyes, and corded blood red hair. Her body was thin but highly muscular.

"Like what you see Genocide?" the female asked.

The Spartan immediately kicked her away, but she rolled with the force of the blow and did a back flip to realign herself. No one had ever called him Genocide, save for Hell spawn. His skin felt like it had burned from her touch, but his armor wasn't even scorched.

Taking a good look at his opponent he saw now that she wore only a black tiara, the black bracelets, and a red silk dress that didn't cover her breasts. She smiled at him seductively.

"_This is bad, real bad. The breasts are distracting me from the threat, but the threat is distracting me from the breasts. Not to mention the fact that some how this Hell spawn found Earth. Did that mean there were others too?"_ he thought never taking his eyes off of…well at least he was focused on one aspect of her.

"My face is up here." she said rather menacingly.

"Who are you and why are you here?" Jordan snapped out, coming out of a rather incriminating day dream.

She smiled wickedly now having the Spartan's full attention on something…that wasn't on her.

"My name is of no relevance. I am a messenger from the Destroyer. He has an offer for you."

"Whose the Destroyer?" the title sounded self explanatory, but it never hurt to gather intelligence on important players.

"He is the General that will lead to the downfall of Earth and the culling of humanity…along with all the Covenant fools. The Destroyer's offer is rather simple…join his side as his Lieutenant."

"Well that sounds like a great offer, but I'll decline."

"Pity, well if we can't have you by choice we can least take you by force."

"You and what army?"

The demon snapped her fingers and five other demons of varying sizes appeared around him.

"I just had to ask." 267 said very sarcastically.

"Take HIM." she commanded her demons.

267 had already taken off into the facility finding it far better idea to turn the ambushee into the ambusher. He rounded corner after corner never taking the same turn twice. Eventually he lost the heavy footfalls behind him. He slowed down taking a moment to slow his breathing. He still couldn't believe the demons had found earth. After he dealt with these demons he had to tell command of the new enemy he had encountered.

He smelled a foul odor of the new demon long before it fired.

**CA-CHINK**

He immediately rolled sideways. Bits of blood and bone splattered the crates, but none of it was his own. 267 swiveled about to the origin of the shot and nearly paused. It was huge. Standing at 5 meters the giant was glutton incarnate. A twin horned helm covered the skull and the eyes, but left the mouth of yellow teeth uncovered. It's arms were thickly muscled, but it had a gut the size of a Warthog. It bore no armor save a massive chest plate that looked more like a bib on it, and black boots. The weapon it held it it's hands had a greater muzzle in circumference than his body. What was strange about the weapon was that the part near the handle looked alive. It had a mouth that would open and close with teeth made for grinding.

"What the?" 267 said as the massive demon reached back and grabbed something from behind it.

From behind it brought the corpses of a marine and a grunt. As his mind came to a startling revelation the horror of his opponent grew. The demon dropped both corpses into the mouth which than began to grind the two together. 267 may have been undeniably disgusted but he was not horrified to the point of being unable to move. He jumped off the floor and pushed off one crate with his foot soon as his opponent had swiveled the disgusting gun in his direction. Blood, bone, and a piece of a grunt mask occupied the spot he once had. His enemy was bring his arm about to reload, but soon had a very pissed of Spartan in it's face. 267 had both claws extended, which he used one to lodge in the left eye socket and the other to repeatedly smash/claw at it's face.

This did nothing more than anger the demon as it brought around the gun to pistol whip the Spartan. Sensing the shift in the demon 267 jumped off and away. The demon was already in full swing and ended up smashing it's gun into his own face. Upon landing 267 watched the massive demon stumble around in confusion.

"Well at least you hit something." 267 said charging his opponent.

Not having enough lift to reach the face so he settled with stabbing into the gut. He had made a decent sized cut before his on the left arm broke. 267 was no prepared for this as he slightly stumbled. More on instinct than intuition he raised both of his arms in front of him in an X fashion and rolled with the hit of the fist. Mid-way through the parabolic arc he rolled and landed on his feet.

Staring at his opponent he watched as it took the broken blades out of it's gut. In it's hand the blades looked the size of tooth picks. It gave a deafening roar clearly pissed, but unimpressed by the size of the blades. Too make matters worse a second demon of the same size came crashing through behind him cutting off his only avenue of retreat. This one was turned and roared at him as well.

"There no way my luck is _that_ bad." 267 murmured as he was now caught between the two gluttonous giants.

The new demon behind him began charged with a warbling war cry. 267 ran toward the one he was engaging earlier with another of his hair brain ideas. The one in front of him leveled the barrel at him, but he was far to small and to nimble to get a proper bead. 267 quickly closed the distance to the massive demon and activated his plasma sword in his right hand. First he jumped off the floor and focused all of his momentum into the creature's left knee. It was jarring hit, but was one that was rewarded with breaking the creature's knee joint. Second he jumped off the knee to the creature's gun arm. With his plasma sword he cut the hand off at the wrist. Before the gun had begun to tip he had shifted his momentum with the demons amputated arm. Reaching forward he grabbed the massive weapon by the muzzle. Using his body as a pivot point the brought the mouth of the gun onto the demon's head. The teeth of the gun latched onto the head and began to chew. The entire momentum of the demon had come to a sudden halt at having the head chewed off the body. Once his feet hit the ground he threw the muzzle of the gun into the innards of the first demon from the slit he made on it's gut. Upon throwing the muzzle into the gut his hand wrapped around the trigger. He gave the demon a moment of realization before he pulled the trigger.

The body of the demon tensed before it slackened and began to fall forward. 267 suddenly realized that he may be crushed under the weight of the creature and braced for impact. When the impact never happened he opened his eyes and saw that the massive body demon was being supported by the massive gun which was now propped against the floor. Relief flooded through the Spartan's mind before he was nicked in the back of the head. Turning his head he saw the mouth of the demon gaping open, trying to take a bite out of him. He had blasted out the entire chest and back of the creature and it still refused to accept the fact that it was dead. Taking his plasma blade he severed the top of the head. It fell immediately to the ground. As he stared at half of the head he felt the tongue which still attached to the mouth hit him.

"That's just twisted." 267 somewhat disgusted.

Moving forward he got out from under the corpse. A groaning to his back made him turn around hurriedly fists at the ready. Nothing behind him moved. The groan came again this time from above him. Looking up he saw a mound of corpses dumped into a dumpster sized well dumpster on it's back. As the groan intensified he saw that the mound of bodies was coming toward him. He didn't have time to run as both Covenant and Human bodies were dumped onto him.

Nothing moved from the mound of corpses. There was a settle movement of a few bodies at first before the body of a Brute Chieftain was thrown off the mound. Standing at his full height on the hill of corpses the Spartan had only one thing to…yell "That's so fucking nasty!"

Half walking half stumbling the Spartan eventually made his way off the corpses. Taking a moment to catch his breath once more he readied himself for more physical exertion. His moment was up as a figure camouflaged in shadow charged at him with physical harm on the mind. Acting quickly he caught the punch. He reached for his pistol while at the same time taking in the sight of his opponent. It was slightly shorter than him, roughly the size of a normal human, clad in pitch black armor. It had the same features as a human, two arms, two legs, and five fingers on each hand. One of the only features that stood out was a pair of red goggles. He had nearly unclipped his pistol from it's holster when he caught movement to his side. The strike was fast, about as fast as him so he had absolutely no time to block the kick. Once again he was sent flying through a series of crates. While he was still in the air a third opponent came down straight at him. He was not prepared for this and was sent to the ground with this new opponent on top of him. As they landed the ground cracked sending dust everywhere.

The other two clad in entire black stayed back and waited to see what would happen. They didn't have to wait long as they heard a loud smack and their compatriot was sent flying past them.

"You guy's don't know how bad you've pissed me off." 267 said getting up.

267 reached for his pistol once more only to feel it missing. Looking around 267 could not find it, and realized that it would be pointless to search for it amongst the dark corridors. As he turned back to face his opponents he saw that all three of them had joined together at the breach. All three of them turned away and sent out bolts of red lightning to the corpses. 267 had a sinking feeling about this as he guessed what was happening. All of the Covenant and Human corpses rose up as if given new life. The three in turned to face him with a wall of zombies at there back. To make matters worse baton's attached to a cord appeared in their hands. Blue lightning arced up and down the length of the baton.

"Great, I'm fighting Demon Ninja's wielding nun-chuck glow sticks with a host of Zombies to boot. I guess my luck is that bad. At least I have the proper tool for the job." he said as he activated his plasma blade in one hand and drew his knife in the other. He didn't want to use both blades at once just yet. Both sides charged at another and the bloody melee ensued.

In under five minutes most of the zombies laid in pieces on the ground and once again were dead. Scratches and burns covered the entire armor of the Spartan. Luckily none of the strikes had pierced its thickness.

267 sliced the last zombiefied Brute in half while simultaneously dodging a strike from his ninja-like opponents. More of the Zombies came at him only to fall like freshly cut grass. It didn't matter how many they threw at him as their numbers were quickly subsiding and he was still willing to fight.

The last zombie was a Marine that was cut in half by his blade. Now all that remained was him and them. Each one of them was panting heavily from the physical exhaustion.

"Come on." 267 said as he felt the effects of time slowing and speeding up simultaneously as he entered the effect called Spartan Time.

All three charged at once. 267 opted to tackle the one in the middle first. He flipped the knife and caught it by the blade. Cocking his arm back he threw the knife straight at the center one's head. It hit true between the demon's eyes and the demon was stopped dead in it's tracks. Putting away his plasma blade he strode forward and ripped both batons out of both its arms. With baton's in hand blocked the first few strikes from the demon on his right before he slipped through it's guard and stabbed the electrified baton up through the demon's chin. With only one baton in hand he confronted the final demon. It's strikes were fast and furious, but he was faster and fiercer. Ducking low he took the baton and shoved it through the top of the knee cap into the leg. The demon buckled with the loss of it's leg and fell backward. Before it could rise back up 267 took one of his Covenant Energy Swords and plunged it into the demon's chest. It gave one last gasp of pain before it succumbed to death.

267 relaxed finally feeling triumphant. It was short lived however as a blast of air rocked him off his feet, but this time he didn't go through the container's but rebounded of them. He tried to rise up, but a sickening pain seared through his abdomen and pinned him into the floor. Looking up he saw a burning red blade piercing him. His eyes traveled further to the Demon Messenger who still had her hands on the blade.

"This is the gift of the Destroyer to the prodigal son." the demon messenger said clearly and carefully to be understood.

267 stared at her with mix of hate and resentment. He couldn't die here like this. Not here, not now.

As he fought to stay conscious he saw a two pronged blade pierce the Demon Messenger through the back to her nipples. Pain spread across her face as she entered her death throes. Before he lost consciousness he saw the killer of the Messenger and began to shake him.

He heard his savior say "Spartan, stay awake…Spartan".

It sounded like Zuka…but he wad dead wasn't he?


	4. The Beginning

_Sorry for making you guys wait so long. By the way I am looking for a beta reader so if anyone wants be one just send me a message. Oh anyone can use any of the characters in my story if they wish. Without further a do here is the fourth chapter._

_Inside Jordan's Head_

"Wake up. I can't stay here long, Jordan. The Destroyer will grow conscious of my presence.

At the name Destroyer Jordan opened his eyes. What also grabbed his attention was the voice. It belonged to someone who should be dead. He lay upon black burnt ground. Thick and heavy ashes fell to the ground from dark clouds above. Fires raged all around him consuming the tall oak trees. In the far off distance he could hear torturous screams.

"I'm in hell aren't I Jake?" the Spartan rose to his feet shaking off the ashes that had settled on his armor. He focused on the absurdly tall blue alien that stood before him. Jake was a Navi. Jake's yellow cat like glowing eyes were completely focused on the Spartan. Jordan was quick to notice three things. One Jake had tightened his grasp on his spear. Two the blood oozing hole in the center of his chest. If he remembered correctly it was the exact location where Jordan had ripped out his still beating heart. Third the white misting aurora that surrounded him.

"No. Not that you don't belong there." Jake replied indifferently.

"Let's skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point of the matter. Where am I and why are you here?"

"Do you not recognize the planet you are on? Has it been so long that this place has faded from memory?" Jake taunted.

Taking a look around one more I recognized everything. I was thankful that I was still wearing my helmet as my jaw would have dropped. Recovering from my lapse I answered Jake.

"This is Draco III. My home planet…the day the Covenant invaded."

"Yes." Jake answered. For a moment Jordan detected pity in his voice.

"So this is a memory and that makes you what? My conscious?"

"No I am not your conscious. This is my spirit. As to why we are here the Angel of Death wanted me to show you this and send you a message."

"And what is it?" Jordan said impatiently.

"The whore that stabbed you through did not kill you, but did something far worse. She infused some of hell's power into you."

"What?" Jordan was surprised but still didn't understand how this and that were connected.

"The power feeds on rage. So it sought out the memory that was linked to your greatest rage. Even as we speak it grows."

With concern at this new development Jordan turned to the darkening landscape.

"So what is his message?"

"The End War is upon you." Jake said before he faded from view.

_Outside_

A low whistle escaped 211 of Alpha Company lips as she came across the inactive green armor of a Spartan. The armor was slumped against the only pile of crates that were still left standing in the docking yard. 211's armor was white with blue trimming. Her armor style was the SCOUT variant. She was of course the best sniper of team Glaive.

"I wonder what could have happened?" spoke 013 of Beta Company as he squatted down next to what he assumed was dead. He had red CQB armor of Mk VII variant.

"He can't be dead right? He's War. He's one of the best of Gamma Company." Spoke 289 of Gamma Company. 289 was the youngest of the Glaive team. His armor was Recon blue with black as a secondary. The only thing out of place on his armor was the Sapper chest piece.

"He's the best?" 211 spoke unbelievingly.

"He's the best at CQB. He wouldn't die without a few thousand of the Covenant bastards killed with his bare hands. "289 said in defense. Among Spartan III's each consecutive group believed that they were better than the previous group. This was a source of friction of Spartan's from a separate company.

"Looks like he wasn't what he was cracked up to be." 211 said bored.

289 was about to speak in retort. When the commanding officer of Glaive spoke.

"My sister. He is a Horseman and would not fall easily." Spoke 260 of Alpha company in a thickly Jamaican accent. He stood behind the two quarrelling Spartans examining a ragged doll that looked strangely like the Spartan they were talking about. His appearance was fierce with a black ODST body armor with gold trim.

The two Spartans immediately ended their bickering. They knew better than to contradict Tosh-260. Otherwise known as Conquest, the former leader of the Four Horsemen.

"You still carrying around those dolls?" 013 asked.

"Yes. I have one for each of my former teammates, and one for each of you." Tosh responded.

"Why?" 013 asked disturbed.

"The spirit of lord tell me of your troubles. Through his eyes I watch you. Through the dolls I can sense your life."

"You still believe in Religion?" asked 211 disapprovingly.

"Heart, mind, body, and soul." Was his response.

"Really?" 289 asked.

"Yes. The lord also tell me that War will be coming along soon."

"How did you ever make it past a psych exam?" 013 asked.

"I ask myself each every mission that I went on with him…but in the end he always got us out alive." The former immobile Spartan said as he stood up.

"War my brother it is good to see you once again." Tosh said depolarizing his helmet to reveal an aged black man with greying dreadlocks. He clasped warms extended arm with brotherly love.

"Same here." The Spartan's attention then turned toward 289. "N, is that you?"

"Yeah." N said sheepishly rubbing the back of his helmet.

"You've gotten taller." Jordan said with a hint of praise.

"The family reunion is nice and all, but we do have a mission to complete." 013 said rather coldly.

"Right. The Covenant aren't going to kill themselves."

"013 and I will take point. 289 you're with 267. 211 stick to the shadows." Tosh said as he turned Assault Rifle in hand to accompany 013 who was equipped with a shotgun. 211 simply activated her camouflage and disappeared from sight.

"Sir." N spoke as he handed over Jordan's lost pistol.

"Thanks." Was all the Spartan said.

Jordan moved out after Tosh and 013 had taken a head start. N followed close by with his own assault rifle at the ready.

…

Shredder rounds and plasma were exchanged as the Covenant and Spartan's engaged one another. The earlier formation that Tosh had ordered had dissolved as N and Jordan waded into the Covenant lines. N was behind Jordan who used a barely alive Brute Chieftain as a meatshield.

"How did you guys find me anyways?" Jordan asked as he blew out left half of a grunt's head.

"Tosh knew exactly where you were." Came N's response as he downed several more Grunts and a Jackal.

Any order the Covenant had went out the window when Jordan taunted the Brute Captain by saying he had a banana for the "Big Ugly Gorilla." Now the Captain was being paraded around as a shield. Many Brutes attempted to take leadership but 211 quickly ended them before they could reorder themselves.

Jordan recognized the value of using the Captain as a shield, but he desperately wanted to use the Gravity Hammer that the Captain had so graciously given him. The original thirty Covenant that had tried to halt their progress along the Warthog production line were soon reduced to blood spatters on the floor.

"Your heavy you know that." Jordan said as he snapped the Brute's neck.

"So what's the objective?" 013 asked as he reloaded his shotgun.

"Were going down the line to the finished model of Warthog's and taking a ride to join the Convoy heading from the Crow's Nest. Rumor is that out brother Master Chief will be leading the charge." Tosh said gazing at the back of Jordan's head.

"The Master Chief?" 211 sounded surprised.

"Believe it." Was N's response.

Tosh watched as Jordan slowly reloaded his pistol. He didn't need to be a psychic to see the cogs turning in Jordan's mind. The Master Chief was the metaphorical yardstick that every Spartan measured themselves by. However if one were to defeat the Master Chief or at least bloody him good then a new standard may be set according to that Spartan.

Tosh remembered the first time he was reading Jordan-267's file for a potential candidate to take the original War's place.

_Flashback_

"How about Sierra-307?" asked Colonel Ackerson as they examined Sierra-307's file on the Holoscreen.

Ackerson dressed in grey fatigue's and sat ramrod straight. He appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties. His head was completely absent of hair.

"No." was Tosh's response. "307 doesn't have the skill sets necessary to fulfill War's position."

"We've been at this for over a week and you can't find one?" Ackerson asked disbelievingly.

"None of them are qualified. Let me see ONI's blacklist."

Ackerson glared at him sternly. Tosh was remained as calm as ever. He had faced dozens of Elites at one time and never broken a bead of sweat. How Ackerson intended to intimidate him with a stare was beyond him.

"They are on the blacklist for a reason." Ackerson spoke slowly, clearly.

"If you want the Four Horsemen to be at full fighting potential I need to consider all possible candidates."

Ackerson stared at him hard once more before typing in several commands.

The ONI symbol appeared on the screen before being replaced by a list. The first thing that surprised Tosh was how long the list was. It consisted of eleven Spartan's.

"We'll start at the top." Ackerson said.

Tosh however had already scrolled to the bottom. The last name Number 11 was inked out. The name above that one was Jordan-267 Number 10.

Opening the file he skimmed it.

Graduated top of his company with honors or "bragging rights" as he so fondly refers to it. Spartan 267 displays a fighting skill level only matched by Fred of the Spartan II's. Is highly volatile almost considered radioactive in combat scenarios. Footage retrieved from combat has revealed him to literally rip apart enemies apart with his bare hands. Despite multiple psych evaluation's 267's handler is still unconvinced that 267 should be considered sane. 267's handler still believes he should receive XXX training.

"267 is a crazy bastard, but he's a crazy bastard that we need. Ripping apart enemies and taking a measure of pleasure in it is not a good sign not even in a Spartan. His plans are damned near suicidal and I think that this only encourages him to fight harder. He excels at espionage and counter intelligence he just finds it distasteful. His only saving grace is that he gets the mission done and follows orders to the letter. Recommend for XXX training. It may be the kick in the ass he needs to be a Lethal Vector or a Highly Lethal Vector.

On top of his ground mission performance he is a highly trained pilot. Has taken multiple victories in UNSC controlled space and Covenant controlled space. He is only surpassed by Noble Six in terms of mission victories.

One thing that is considered odd amongst him is his active involvement with both other military and civilian personal.

On a side note he has mentioned several times that he _will_ surpass that Master Chief.

He may be what ONI Section III needs for Operation Alternate Earth.

Tosh was curious as to what Operation Alternate Earth was but didn't bring it up.

"Him." Was all Tosh said.

Ackerson glared at him intently before a wry smile crossed his face. In the back of Tosh's mind he wondered if Ackerson either wanted or knew the Tosh would choose him. Either way he had his War.

_End of Flashback_

_"You have come a long ways since then."_ Tosh thought as he watched War kill more Covenant.

The five moved quickly through the station all the while Covenant resistance was increasing. They were in reach of their goal. They had reached the end of the production facility and had a wide array of Warthogs to choose from. All they had to do was kill the Covenant resistance and open the big double doors.

War took his newly acquired hammer and began to test it on the Covenant. Three Jackal's were sent flying by the pulse wave. An unfortunate grunt had its skull caved into its chest by a powerful strike from the butt of the hammer. Turning around on his heels War brought the blade edge of the hammer slicing across the throat of a Brute. Wherever War went death followed.

As he used the Gravity Hammer he began to figure out other uses for it. Smacking a row of miscellaneous parts of a Warthog he sent them spearing through the air like fragments from a grenade. In his head War's original demon laughed at the mayhem of his element. Finding new ways to kill.

A loud grinding sound over powered the noises of gunfire and plasma as the massive doors at the other end of the Warthog production facility grinded open. On the other side was a massive array of Covenant ground troops, vehicles, and aircrafts.

Immediately the Spartan's scattered and took cover behind Warthogs or UNSC crates. Neither side moved. The Spartans stayed in cover while the Covenant stood out in the open waiting. A large Brute Chieftain strode forward.

"Demons behold the instruments of you destruction! The Gods have forgiven us and given us a mighty weapon!" Pausing for dramatic effect he held up the Covenant version of a syringe. The Brute let loose a mighty howl as he injected himself. The other Covenant troops followed suit. "We are no longer limited by out physical form. We are now the Fiends! The hunters of Demons!"

Jordan wondered what the hell the Brute was doing. Then he felt a chill run down his spine as a familiar feeling crept over him. The feeling of hellish taint. Immediately the Covenant began to spasm and wail painfully as their bodies began to mutate into their hellish counterparts. The first wave of Hell's minion's had come. The End War had come.

_This isn't exactly what I wanted in a chapter as it lacks the blood and gore that is central to my storytelling. Please review and send me feedback on ideas or any characters that you want to add to the story. As always your friend 2 Good 2 Kill._


End file.
