Halo: Spartan III

Parker put on a frown as Axel called him a dissapointment. Who the hell did he think he was? He had plenty of control.

He muttered some curses in his head and turned over, shutting his eyes. It felt good when he did, because his eyes weren't sore anymore. After a couple of minutes he fell asleep.

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In his dream, Parker was in the middle of what appeared to be a snowy wasteland. Buildings were crumbling, and vehicles were either abandoned or smoking.

It was his home.

After walking a couple of steps, a small breeze went up. He turned his head slightly. He thought he heard something behind him, but there was nothing. He kept looking, then turned around and kept going.

Secretly behind him, an Energy Sword turned on.

Parker was knocked face first into the snow, and turned around as an invisible force placed it's foot on his chest. He grabbed onto it just as the form of an Elite came into view.

The sword came down on him, and the last thing he heard was the sound of an energy sword going through flesh.

--------------

Parker's eyes snapped open and he was sweating. He sat up and took a few long deep breaths as his heart was pounding.

Footsteps in the black. A knife in the dark.

He feels the adrenaline flowing through him as naturally as oxygen, as naturally as his own lifeblood. In a way, this is his lifeblood, for it aids him like none other. No other agent has these benefits. Better yet, his own body produces it.

He is neither machine, nor human. Something of both, perhaps? Maybe.

He once had read a passage from the Horus Heresy chapter.
“Give me a boy to teach with tablet and stylus and I shall give you a scholar.
Give me a boy to train with shield and sword, and I shall give you a warrior.
Give me a scholar and a warrior to meld from paper to steel, and I shall give you a soldier.”

He isn’t a soldier. No, he is much, much more than a simple soldier now. He is the material of legend, to be sung of and woven into myth. A god among mortals.

He knows his purpose, his destiny, his single most driven goal.

A shadow within shadows, yet deadlier.

He is coming…

***
The first thing he saw was black. Utter blackness.

This, in fact, caused him most to panic. He couldn’t stand for it. To go blind was nearly as bad as falling behind from his teammates. It would kill him to see them walk away. As soon as he lifted his arm to rub them frantically, lancing pain shot up his bones.

“Uunngh!” he groaned, being too weak to yell.

Despite the agony, he managed to feel both his arms and his legs. At least everything there was in order. He could almost even sit up.

But he couldn’t see. His head began to ache.

Abbra didn't make a sound as she slowly opened her eyes. The very gesture was so hard she began to panic. There was something wrong, she couldn't see. Not clearly, she knew there were still machines around her, but everything melted into each other. She tried to roll over, but her body refused, which sent another eave of panic over her.

"Hello one twenty four." Another male voice rung, his voice sounded sympathetic, she must have been in bad shape. The man was different from her old doctor, his voice was older, and laced with stress. He watched her shift, trying to look at him "Don't bother." He said as he approached her. "Your eyes are going to be like this for a few days, impatience and strain won't make them any better. The blue light is only to in sure you won't lose your vision."

His massive figure loomed over her, even now she could tell he was at least six feet. "I'm going to take you to another room, your going to say there until your more adjusted." He trailed off, uncomfortable that she hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention to his presence. The man cracked his knuckles and reached into the pocket of his coat. "Here, you're going to have to wear these. Don't take them off." He warned as he slipped them onto her face, shielding her weak and delicate eyes.

Abbra still didn't react, simply listened. The dark glasses drowning out every ray of light. His massive hands placed themselves behind her neck and back, her tender skin tingled uncomfortably. "Just putting you in a wheel chair. No worries." He said, wishing she would react. It was like talking to a manikin...to a corpse. "Your friends will be there." He said cheerfully.

Her tiny body seemed to wilt as he lifted. Imaginary pins jabbed into her as she shifted. Her teeth gritted as he set her as gently as possible into the chair. Abbra relaxed and regrouped, thinking about her friends, hopefully they were in a fair deal less pain than she was. Her thinking stopped abruptly as she was cast into normal light. Her head pulsated, and she moaned. It felt as though a blow torch was meeting with her eyes. She slumped in the chair, trying to think of something to take her mind off the pain, and reassuring herself it was only temporary.

She looked for something to focus on aside from the blinding pain, and attempted to bend her fingers. They were so stiff that they barley twitched from her effort. but she continued to try. The bright light was almost to much of a distraction. But Abbra was stubborn and refused to be beaten. Even though she could occasional feel herself becoming light headed.

Abbra couldn't see anything, let alone any of her fellow Spartans. Plus she seriously doubted any of them could speak. She hadn't bothered, applying that much effort of trying to utter a few words was indeed pointless.

OOC: sorry but i have nothing to post lol mind block or something 🙁

Spike went threw the everything the others did the not being able to move or see and very harsh pains in his body.

OOC:when can we see move and talk again

"Alive and kicking, zero-eight-three?" a strong feminine voice inquired. It made Lawrence jump, and another wave of piercing agony shot through him. His bones felt as if they were on fire.

"None the better....for your asking." he rasped out in a hoarse whisper.

"Hmm." the voice clucked. "We're going to put you in a wheelchair, alright? Don't be worried about your eyes, your retina has to adjust to the enhanced optical capillary flow. You'll be seeing mostly nothing for the next few days."

Lawrence grunted broodingly as she shifted him onto a chair. He didn't even feel like a Spartan anymore.

"You're faring better than a lot of your other teammates, actually." she said, almost as if she had read his mind. "They can't speak yet, let alone move."

This cheered and worried Lawrence at the same time.

A door opened and he felt himself being shifted onto a bed. More pain. He managed to keep his mouth shut this time.
The orderly left and the door closed again. He could hear the breathing of his fellow Spartans, his family. Now and then someone would shift slightly, but not much more than that.

He took a deep, painful breath. It had to be said.
It was no more than a whisper, but he knew they could hear him.
"Guess we made it....through....round one."

Spike looked over in the direction of the voice his hearing had gotten alot better since he was upgraded you could say he could recignize the voice belong to Lawrence.Spike thought about giving him a thumbs up but then didnt know if he could see yet either so he tried to say yea but all that came out was ye. Spike was starting to get his voice and ability to talk back but it still hurt to move everything but his right arm.

"Barley..." The whisper was so faint it seemed to be absorbed by the intoxicating silence of the room. When she spoke, the voice was not her own, it sounded tangled, and as sharp as jagged stone. Every last parcel of energy she had was used to make that statement. Although she doubted, even if by God's grace he did hear it, that he would know that it was her who had spoken.

But through the exceptional pain, and terrible uncertainty Abbra was granted one trace of mirth to please herself with. One person she genuinely cared about was safe. And without one faltering thought to persuade her otherwise, she knew Rae was fine as well. She had to be.

Her whisper was a lifeboat through his own pain.

She was well, thank the lord. Enough under the circumstances anyways. He found the strength to smile through his pain. She was sitting directly to his left, if he wasn't mistaken. Her voice sounded strangled, but it was her.

Through dizzying agony, he managed to reach out and grope out for Abbra's hand, nearly losing consciousness. Squeezing it, he was deeply relieved to feel a tiny, yet definite, handshake in return.

Parker was still breathing hard as Lawrence and Abbra came in. His voice was shaky as he explained his dream

"I...I dreamt of my homeland, in Canada..The entire place was dead. Bodies were everywhere, vehicles and buildings smoking.

Then..I felt something was watching me, and one of those Covenant creeps pinned me down and cut me in half.

I..don't think that was just a dream, I think it's a vision. A vision of something worse to come..

But..Oh god..I can still hear it now..The sound of a slight growl and a scream of some alien language, then the sound of it's sword going through my flesh.."

Parker then began to cry, which made his eyes sting in their current condition.

The corners of her lips flickered upwards as much as the tense muscles in her face would allow. Her hand prickled slightly, although she couldn't possibly mind under the circumstances. With difficile effort, she glided her thumb along the front of his hand. Slightly embarrasses, his skin was warm and soft, while hers was cold and clammy. Her hands were always like that, and it bothered her to no end.

"You, ok?" She choked, her voice rasp and sore. He seemed to be, but without her vision, it was beyond hard to tell. Abbra was so jealous of Parker, he could talk. And his eyes were well enough to cry, hers could hardly blink. Hopefully she'd get her full vision back, the thought of not having it scared her.

"It's confirmed then. There are no other surivors." Axel said the words with an impassive fire blazing behind his eyes. "I'm the only Spartan left?"

"Yes... and no." The Lieutenant looked at his now equal in rank. "Axel I'm sorry you lost all your soldiers. This is a war, it happens. You-"

"Don't tell me what happens in a war Lieutenant. I was drafted into this war when I was a kid and unlike you, and the kids at this installation, I was out there experiencing it first hand the past few years. War is my life Lieutenant. I know what war is."

"OK then." The Lieutenant nodded. "But you're still wrong. There are other Spartans. They're here, in this installation, fighting the mission that they have no control over. Don't forget them."

"I didn't forget them Lieutenant. I dont have any faith in them. I'm surprised you do. These Spartans are worse than raw marine recruits. They had more resources than I could think of pumped into their being, they were genetically selected, and for all the power and ability they have, I am more dissapointed than even I thought I would be at their potential. With all they have, they waste a lot of it. The Spartans I worked with were just kids when they were taken. Kids who suffered at the Covenant, and we had less resources, less of everything, and now all those Spartans are dead because these children were here sitting around in a multi billion dollar installation biding their time."

"OK." Was all the Lieutenant responded with.

"The Crusade is over. Admiral is dead and all of Sierra Company is gone in one fashion or another. I've no specific orders under this situation so I requested transfer back to the Dream. Best I leave before your kids are done with their nap."

"They're Spartans Lieutenant. Believe it or not, I trained them. You may not like it, but I know you know it to. And you care about them. Maybe that's why you force yourself to hate them, but I saw you watching over them from the beginning of their ordeal until the end of it. You didn't leave until it was over, so dont give me your bullshit. If you want to leave, then I have no power to stop you, but I would if it was under my list of capabilities."

Axel arched an eyebrow, and moved to continue on his way.

"Spartan 010." The Lieutenant shouted over his shoulder, "If you stay long enough to go on one mission with them, you'll find out they hold two values at heart. The value they have at home, and thier mastery of their art on the battlefield. Do not underestimate them."

[I'll just say I'm brought into the same room as you..]

James grunted as he was lifted from the operating table, now being set down hard in a metallic chair. Wheelchair. He thought as the man now pushed him down the hall. He could not see, not only due to the bandages over his eyes but he couldn't even open them. He swallowed a lump as he felt the chair come to a stop, the doctor hurrying out of the door. "..." He struggled to open his mouth and speak, he demanded his body to obey. "Hello..?"

Jacob was hearing weak voices all around him. He couldn't see anything but even in their fragile state the voices sounded familiar to him.

Jacob was to weak to really move and he really wasn't much for talking so he just sat there and waited to nod off.

Originally posted by Ambience
The corners of her lips flickered upwards as much as the tense muscles in her face would allow. Her hand prickled slightly, although she couldn't possibly mind under the circumstances. With difficile effort, she glided her thumb along the front of his hand. Slightly embarrasses, his skin was warm and soft, while hers was cold and clammy. Her hands were always like that, and it bothered her to no end.

"You, ok?" She choked, her voice rasp and sore. He seemed to be, but without her vision, it was beyond hard to tell. Abbra was so jealous of Parker, he could talk. And his eyes were well enough to cry, hers could hardly blink. Hopefully she'd get her full vision back, the thought of not having it scared her.

It scared him how cold her hand was.

He knew that she understood his gesture when she squeezed his hand again feebly.

So thats what it takes then? A significant loss to shape a mere child into a mindless tool of war...

Raevynn thought to herself as she gazed up at Axel's silhouette. He was proof of his theory. He had lost so much, and in return he changed into something nearly invincible. But something else was missing from him as well, and Raevynn didn't like it at all. Is this what was to become of her Spartans?

As Axel left the room, Raevynn rolled her stiff body onto it's side and painfully clamped her eye lids shut. Trying her best to ignore the sounds of her Spartans suffering, she eventually drifted off into an unsettled sleep.

[]Unfortunately I don't have time to make a bigger post. Feel free to start the next day if you guys are up for it.[]

Originally posted by Ambience
"You, ok?" She choked, her voice rasp and sore. He seemed to be, but without her vision, it was beyond hard to tell. Abbra was so jealous of Parker, he could talk. And his eyes were well enough to cry, hers could hardly blink. Hopefully she'd get her full vision back, the thought of not having it scared her.

Parker knew he shouldn't have tried screaming, because he started coughing like some ashma kid again and couldn't stop for long time. When he did, he immediately passed out. Though no one could see it, his pillow made a slight thump as his head hit it.

One of the doctors came in when he heard the coughing and checked Parker out. He made a tsk tsk tsk noise.

The kid'll be out for quite awhile. He's pushed it in his condition. Sorry Spartans, but you won't be able to see him for a few days when you get your sight back, he's out cold.

Abbra felt so much better now, no sores, lost vision, or doubt could possibly get rid of her high. There was no better thing than to know the people you cared about were fine. They were healthy, and they were safe. Slowly, and with concentration, she gently mimicked his move with as much care as she could muster. She knew within an instant all that remained of his energy was the shallow amount he needed to continue breathing. She troubled him no longer.

Her eyelids began to close into a peaceful sleep when the brunette lashes fluttered upward. Parker. He was to far away even to see in her minimal field of vision. Although she could hear him, he was so loud she could have found him. So loud she could have shot him in the dark. Abbra attempted three times to clear her throat, but so much trauma was already induced on her that she couldn't not vocalize anything. her body simply refused. Her vocal cords tightened, and her whole throat convulsed. Rebelling against her every wish. The comment was not intended for him.

Being unable to communicate was a burden. It caused so many problems, this one for example. It would be so much easier if she could tell him to relax, or shoot him an apathetic look. Abbra was growing weary of the feud she had started, but it was the only way she could have any ties with Parker. Good or bad, it was still a connection. The two had nothing in common from what she had seen of him. She knew who she got along with, Parker was not one of those people.

A coughing fit, delightful. The sickening feeling of guilt found itself inside her stomach. he would be in so much pain tomorrow, because he had gotten upset, by a comment made by her, which was not even directed at him. She felt like lashing out in frustration. But Lawrence's warm hand worked it's magic, and lulled her back into a realm of calm. At least she had one person, who was right there beside her, that would watch over her. Just as she would so willingly do the same for him. The pair made a good team. She only wished she could watch over her other companions as well. If they needed each other, she could not bring herself to think of a more important time than this. So very slowly, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

He felt her hand, small and cold, weakly mimick his gesture.
It felt like being touched by an angel.

It was the last thing he realised before he drifted off into merciful unconsciousness.

---

Kill a hundred men and they will hate you.
Kill a thousand men and they will queue to face you.

However, kill one man and they will fear you.
Kill a few men, and they shall see devilry lurking in the shadows and at every turn.

Such was the way of humanity.

Lawrence clicked his upper mandibles decisively, tweaked the fuel cell fins on his back to adjust for the colder climate, and slipped his elongated helmet back on.

Oh, how the mighty are fallen.

(Alright trying to get this thread going again)

Jacob woke up the pain in his head had dulled some by know but it was still quite distinct. Still wearing his goggle he couldn't see anything but he could hear the rest of his team sleeping. He tried to stand but that still seemed to formidable a task for him.

A door opened and someone came into the room. He didn't know what they were doing but was hearing some clicking noises and buzzes. Finally he heard something being wheeled out of the room.

What remained of the Spartans had been moved into several separate yet close quarter rooms. With a maximum of ten Spartans in each room, and only a few rooms full, the amount of Spartans who had survived the procedure had slammed its way into the base of reality. The survival rate had indeed improved, less than half had died or been rendered combat incapable, only about one third.

Less than we’d predicted. More than we’d hoped.

Lieutenant Julius “Sargon” McKenzie stood in dim shadow, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes watched over the Spartans in the room that lay before him, barred from his entrance only by a plate of bulletproof coloured glass. Coloured to them at least. To him, it was perfectly clear. Clear to see the ordeal the legacy of his family had been run through. The gauntlet. Round two.

The door behind him hissed open smoothly and he heard calculated footsteps enter the room. Only one person walked so mathematically. He looked over his shoulder. The motion was obvious to the newcomer in the form of a changing silhouette. “Hello Axel.” He said the words in sad emotion, and deep regret. “168 passed away at 0600 hours.” He said the words painfully, blinking slowly. He had nothing to bring this broken man but bad news. He paused, started at his own thoughts. They were true though. Machine was there. A weapon to kill those who would oppose the UNSC… But as a man, compared to what he once was, his companion was broken. The words he delivered to the younger Spartan’s ears would only serve to bring more darkness to fill the hole in his heart. “The last subject to pass away.” He added. “The others are all stable. No more death.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to adjust to the light that Axel stood in. The younger Spartan had stopped at the edge of the light that entered the room from the glass. It wasn’t much, but it let them see. Axel’s hesitancy was normal for the thirteen year old. The Lieutenant knew he felt uncomfortable outside of his armour, and exposing himself for eyes to see made him nervous. However, though the side effects were bad, the Spartan had nerves of unbreakable steel and a will of iron. Axel stepped into view.

”I understand, sir.” Axel said, stepping up beside the larger Lieutenant.

His voice, which disturbed Julius, had the same almost emotionless and ice-cold tone it had taken on during the Spartan’s down time. Julius couldn’t quite comprehend it yet, but it was like there was something wrong with the way Axel spoke. It made his honed defences activate, put him on edge. It sounded more emotionless than possible, something that took incredible concentration, but it also felt cold, like ice. Like venom… and if it felt cold, how could it really be emotionless? “I’m surprised you’re such a hypocrite Axel.” The Lieutenant said. “You seem so much like a man of metal, a born and bred machine. You distance yourself. Project an aura of a killer, not a soldier. Yet here you are, watching over your old family.”

“They are soldiers Lieutenant.” Axel said. “Whether I like it or not, I know more about them than most people do. I’m here to make sure they come to as little harm as possible, nothing more.”

Julius nodded, but that was all.

Silence filled reality.