The Dead Prowl Unchained - Badfishbone (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

2552 UNSC Marshall, 13:54

A Sangheili Minor screamed in pain after he was riddled with bullets, dropping his blade as it deactivated. The grunts he commanded soon followed him to hell, their signature cries echoing in the corridor. Blue blood splattered the walls and marked the soles of the headhunter team.

"Keep moving Jax, We got 3 minutes."

"Affirm."

A duo of Spartan-III's were moving through the white and black halls of the UNSC Marshall. Both keep weapons trained in front of them as they prowled the ship. Klaxons blared and emergency lights put the ship in an ominous crimson as lighting systems began to fail. Sparks went haywire, and the ship rumbled every now and then as more Covenant boarding parties breached the hull.

They avoided patrols they didn't need to engage, simply walking past while using the SPI armor's cloaking unit. Any blockages were swiftly dealt with via combat blades, short bursts from their BR's, or blunt force trauma.

There was no need for flashlights, as both III's had improved eyesight. They did have VISR optics installed in their helmets, however the need to use it rarely arose. Matthew slowed to a stop as they reached the drop bay and crouched to a knee. He utilized his armor's cloaking system and peaked around the corner. Jaxson turned around to cover the flank, peering down the dark corridor they descended from.

The headhunters had just returned from a mission destroying a Covenant orbital shipyard-however when they joined up with the Marshall, they were soon attacked by boarding parties that tracked down the assassins.

"3 little ones and a squidface." Matthew returned around the corner, uncloaking. "A pair of Jackals are f*ckin' with the data table." Jaxson turned around and gave a thumbs up. Matthew nodded and made a 'shhh' gesture with his left hand and Jaxson acknowledged by winking his status light green. Moments later both Spartans were cloaked and stalking their prey.

The headhunter team were glued at the ends of the walls and approached their targets. Matthew had his sights on the Jackal pair while Jaxson crept up on the Elite. Both targets were highlighted in red as they pinged them, recognizing them as HVT's. Matt readied his sights on the back of an unaware jackal while Jax drew his knife. After a countdown displayed in their HUD's, both struck their foe. The back of a Jackal's head exploded and Jax used the Elite's armor as a platform to climb on its back and dig the knife into its throat.

"Demons! Attack!" A grunt exclaimed, waking up his sleeping comrades.

Matthew quickly snapped to the next Jackal, but the personal shield it had equipped had blocked the round. Matthew adjusted his crosshair on the exposed arm, his next shot pierced its hand, which led the Jackal to throw its shield up in pain. It was defenseless for the next lead lobotomy. The Jackal, now missing half of its face, slumped over as its shield deactivated.

The energy shields of the Elite flashed and flickered before he fell to the floor with a thud, blue blood seeped from its open wound. The remaining Unggoy opened fire, only for the green bolts of plasma to be absorbed by the Spartans personal shields.

Generally, SPI armor is only equipped with photo-reflective panels allowing for a mock version of Covenant Active Camouflage, but since the III's were of higher value they also received personal energy shields.

Jax dove behind the data table for cover, taking a deep breath before cloaking once more and lurking towards the Unggoy's flank. Matthew made quick work of two grunts, who were cut down by quick 3 round bursts. The last grunt tried to retreat, only for Jax to uncloak and grab its harness. Jaxson pulled the methane tank clean off before throwing it aside, the grunt choked as the Spartan grabbed its neck and shoved his still bloodied blade into its insides. He let the grunt choke on its own blood.

The skirmish quickly silenced, save for the gurgles of the dying Unggoy. Both operatives made their way to the few remaining SOEIV drop pods. The clock in their HUD's just hit 50 seconds. This was the timer to the Shaw-Fujikawa slipspace drive. They had Jerry rigged it to blow after the Cole Protocol failed to engage when the Covenant boarded the Marshall. The Covenant could not get the location of Earth, so the ship must go down, hopefully without them in it.

"Come on Matt, this place is 'bout to blow."

Matthew's status light flashes green as he enters his pod. Jaxson reaches over to a weapon rack to grab some extra magazines, but at the 30 second mark all the hatches close to the pods, securing Matthew in his pod, while trapping Jaxson outside. The ship's AI voices over the PA.

"All lifeboats and insertion vehicles will now be ejected, this vessel will self-destruct in 25 seconds."

"Jax!"

"f*ck!"

Matthew clawed at the release of his pod while Jaxson tried to open a sealed hatch of another. After a bit of struggling and yelling, Jaxson realizes the insignificance of his action and just walks up to Matthews pod.

He stares his comrade down before bringing his index and middle together in front of his helment, from then he swipes it in a curve across his visor. Jaxson was signing a smile, a final farewell to his teammate. Matthew stares for a second before copying his action. Afterwards Matthew's pod slowly twisted further down the launch tube, and the pods ejected.

Jax was now stranded alone on the Marshall.

Jaxson walked over to a crate and sat, listening to the prayer Matthew was currently giving him over the radio. Jax stayed silent, accepting his fate. This is his purpose, an expendable killer providing humanity with as much time as it needed to survive the onslaught of the Covenant. His purpose was completed. He hoped his replacement would treat Matt better than he did. He ended with his final words.

"See you in hell asshole."

"f*ck you too Jax."

Both held a grim smile as their vision was encompassed by white. A slipspace portal swallowing the Marshall.

2552 UNSC Marshall, 14:58

A stream of red and white visually flashbanged him as his visor polarized in an attempt to lessen the damage. Jaxson awoke staring at the ceiling, flames were engulfing the drop bay.

To his right was his Battle Rifle, and to his left, the Elite Minor that he stabbed was ablaze. Its skin melting off its face as empty eye sockets bore into the Spartan.

Clank

Wire snapping and sparks overhead alerted him to an overhead beam soaring towards him. With quick reflexes, Jaxson grabbed his rifle and rolled right. With a resounding thud, the beam punched a hole in the floor, stopping halfway.

While still on his back, Jaxson scanned the room with his rifle up. The drop-bay was clear of hostiles but the growing flames were a problem. The area was definitely losing oxygen and his armor only held onto a supply of 7 minutes before he asphyxiated. He stood and moved for the nearest door, back the way he came.

The Charon-class frigate was falling apart around him. He jogged past the corpses of both Covenant and human. Occasionally he would pass the straggling Elite or Brute, limping in the hallways. With the help of the failing overhead lights and his active camouflage, they never saw their killer.

After exiting the lower levels he saw something that really f*cked with his stomach. He walked up to the glass of the mess hall and stared dumbfounded.

"Where the hell am I?"

The damage he saw wasn't from the slipspace rupture, but from the crash landing.

He looked out into a sky with a red and orange haze, active volcanoes with orbs of lava levitating above their open maws. The environment was dry, hot, and hellish.

He saw multiple Covenant boarding ships, spirits, and phantoms littering the ground of the crash site. However they had already set up barricades and lookout towers on the surrounding canyon and cliff tops. Blockades were set up on top of railroad tracks leaving the canyon. Many banshees and phantoms were patrolling the airspace above the Marshall.

They were looking for survivors.

Making up his mind, he started towards the armory. He would need heavy firepower and a surplus of ammunition if he had any hopes of tackling the alien force outside. Once again, Jaxson activated his cloaking module and stalked the hallways of the Marshall.

All opposition was silently dispatched and squandered, the Covenant couldn't know he was alive. Yet.

Chapter 2: Rearm & Reload

Chapter Text

2552 UNSC Marshall , Engineering, 05:20

"Another…"

The Headhunter had just spilled the blood of a Covenant scavenging team. They were common to run across.

The pummeled bodies and broken limbs of Kig-Yar, Unggoy, and Jiralhanae littered the corridor. Bioluminescent blue blood mixed with the reds and purples of the various species, eventually formed a black puddle in the mound of corpses.

Jaxson had long since run out of ammo, at this point his BR55 had more use as a bludgeoning tool than a weapons system, although that was unnecessary.

Spartan-III's were all injected with a concoction of chemicals and supplements before deployment into their suicide missions. Some of the benefits included enhanced muscle density and strength, virtually unbreakable bones, quicker reflexes and improved eyesight with night vision.

The SPI suit is also equipped with shock-resistant and force-amplifying Rift-class gauntlets.

Combining all these features and enchantments, and you get a right hook more than enough to throw a Sangheili on their ass.

Jaxson continued to stalk the hallways in a crouched form, hands open and ready to break bones at a moment's notice. His objective was the armory, which was pinged by his TACMAP 400 meters away.

He was alerted by his motion tracker, the 15 meter radius had constantly proved accurate and was a reliable tool for assassinating targets.

The suit's photo-reactive plating activated, rendering him completely invisible. Even more so than the Covenants' active camouflage.

The Headhunter shuffled around the corner and peered into the bay before him. It was a storage area, many tools and powered equipment scattered across crates and tool sheds.

Multiple Unggoy were sifting through boxes, searching for items of value. Their Jiralhanae overseer watched from a distance, annoyance strewn across his face as two Grunts began to argue over the value of their assignment.

His face flushed to confusion as he felt his fur stand on end. The Brute quickly spun around and was met with an armored fist caving in his helmet.

"Demon! Kill the Demon!" A grunt exclaimed.

Jaxson uncloaked and dove onto the staggered Brute, knocking it off his feet with the help of his gauntlets, and finished it of with his combat knife.

Jaxson gathered the plasma rifle left at the Brutes' feet and quickly began mowing down the panicked Unggoy. They were easy pickings, their panicked nature made them break rank, abandoning their brothers. At last, the last cry was squashed.

After silence gathered throughout the storage bay the Headhunter had once again cloaked and laid in wait.

Quick and heavy footfalls originated from another corridor. The bulkhead slid open to reveal 3 Elites charging into the fray. Enraged and stressed, Jaxson felt his adrenaline pump.

Silently grabbing a plasma grenade off a deceased Unggoy, Jaxson lobbed the death ball from behind.

The grenade stuck true and the Elite it was bound to began to roar in surprise before it blew chunks of cooked Sangheili across the room.

The Headhunter followed up by sucker-punching the Elite Major before unloading into his chest with the plasma rifle. Once its shield dropped a swift kick to the chestplate caved in his ribs, leaving the Elite to suffocate on punctured lungs.

The last Elite opened fire on the exposed Spartan. Jaxson dropped the stolen rifle and charged the Sangheili, arms covering his face as his shields received the brunt of the damage.

He pounced on the Elite, his forward momentum and strength knocking it off its feet. Jaxson continued with a beatdown. He wound up his fist and punched again and again until the Elite only weakly responded with gurgles and twitches.

He finished off the survivor by drawing his combat blade and digging it into its throat.

The self-sharpening M1 combat knife was restored to its sheath, and Jaxson inspected the plasma burns on his forearms. As a result of his augmentations, he didn't feel pain, so he had to constantly check the state of his body.

Spartan-III's were suicide squads, so the availability of medical equipment was scarce on deployment. They were expected to fight to the death, even with heavy injury.

"I'm getting sloppy without Matt checking my ass." He observed.

Funnily enough, he never really knew Matthew before they got pulled into being Headhunters, apparently they had a 95% compatibility rating.

They were placed together due their combat prowess, Jax favored CQC while Matt covered as his marksman. They made quite the deadly duo until their recent separation.

It was changing his fighting style, Jaxson had to be overly cautious and careful when picking his prey without the help of overwatch.

One wrong move and he's dead, no help will come to his aid. But that was what he found exciting.

It got his blood pumping and anger flowing, increasing the effect his augments had on his frontal lobe, his primal instincts.

Jaxson's smile was hidden underneath his bulbous gold visor as he continued towards the armory, the waypoint getting closer with each step.

Fighting now was like a puzzle. You could call it a game of life or death. Each engagement had to be perfect and questions involving its execution were constantly asked and rephrased. He had to ask himself

'How many enemies are there?'

'What is the ratio of shielded vs unshielded enemies?'

'What was the weak link?'

'When and where should I strike for maximum casualties in the shortest amount of time?'

Question and answers helped solve the puzzle before he commited mass genocide.

Without his wingman, the consequences of every single engagement rested solely on his shoulders. And if he had to be honest, that just made killing Covies a helluva lot more fun.

At 50 meters away he crouched his figure and cloaked once more. Jaxson slowly crept unto the bulkhead door when his eyes caught something shiny.

A Marine was leaning against the bulkhead, bloodied and burned, cradling a M90 shotgun. Spent casings surrounded her along with the bodies of Covenant soldiers.

Jaxson gently took the shotgun from her hands and slowly closed her dull eyes.

"Gave 'em hell, huh Marine?" He angrily asked the corpse.

Irritation fueled him as focused rage itched his trigger finger. These people died because the Covies followed HIM . Their death was unnecessary, and he was relishing the thought of getting some personal time with his new toy.

Standing up, Jaxson racked a shell in malice before heading for the armory.

2552 UNSC Marshall , Armory, 05:40

Zhath hovered over the pile of munitions and weapon systems in front of him. The Kig-Yar Ranger was ordered to take and hold the armory from the Humans, lest they tried to rearm themselves.

Most Humans had been slaughtered onced the boarding parties started raiding. However, Human resilience was common knowledge, they were known to fight tooth and nail for any semblance of hope.

Zhath continued to watch his fellow Unggoy and Kig-Yar reorganize the armory and place down defenses when he heard strange sounds.

Knock Knock Knock

The thudding came from the bulkhead leading outside into the corridor. A few of his troops looked at him in confusion, also wondering what was making that sound.

Knock Knock Knock

An exasperated finger pointed at the problem. Yoz Car and Pilklid, a nearby Jackal and Grunt, stopped constructing a plasma turret and headed for the door.

Knock Knock Kno—

The door opened to reveal……nothing.

As Yoz Car stuck his head out into the hallway to look for the intruder, still nothing. He turned around in confusion before two armored gauntlets uncloaked and wrangled his neck. The sound of bone crunching was followed by the panics of Pilklid.

"Yoz was my only friend—"

An 8 gauge round blew off the majority of Pilklid's face, the gray assassin stepped into armory while priming his shotgun once more.

"Knock knock"

Thankfully Jaxson's helmet muffled gunshots, but the Covenant often didn't utilize hearing protection. The ears of the aliens rang as the shotgun roared, echoing through the halls.

Their slowed reaction allowed the Spartan to unleash another slug, the pellets tearing through a small cluster of Unggoy. Their screams were short lived as a grenade silenced their cries.

Zhath recuperated, grabbing his Carbine and firing. A shaky grip was bestowed upon his rifle as the Demon quickly tore past his defenses and units.

Green bolts of plasma and pink needler rounds were absorbed and shattered upon hitting Jaxson's shield. His need for cover was emphasized by depletion of a shield bar in the top right of his HUD.

Taking cover behind a weapon crate, Jaxson cloaked before slipping away.

Every Alien in the room was staring at the box that the Spartan took cover behind. Seconds passed as the tension rose, Zhath slowly started to circle around the room. Rifle raised and aim trained, he peeked over the box, only to reveal the cold titanium floor.

Zhath realized too late, his opponent was camouflaged. Behind him was the sound of crunching, causing Zhath to whirl around.

The Demon had his hands around the last Unggoy's neck, its body fallen limp in his grasp. Zhath stared in horror as the remains of his 2nd in command lay a few feet behind him, limbs contorted in unnatural angles with blood leaking from his smashed beak.

In the time that Zhath had frozen up, the Spartan had moved. The Demon grabbed the Kig-Yar Ranger by the shoulder before punching his stomach, shattering his ribs and puncturing organs. The Jackal collapsed unto the hard deck of the armory.

The Headhunter kicked Zhath in the side, leaving him to moan in pain as he rolled onto his back. The Spartan planted a boot on the chest of Zhath and stared. The last thing Zhath saw was the emotionless golden visor of the Demon, before he racked another round in his shotgun and shoving the heated barrel into his mouth.

Purple blood covered the M90 and the soles of his boots. Jaxson continued onto the weapon racks, organizing magazines into pouches and weapons magnetically locking onto his armor. The process took less than a minute, he walked out, uncaring of the carnage in his wake.

However a message alert in his HUD did peak his interest.

2552 UNSC Marshall, Bridge, 06:30

Xitan 'Sranomee stood over the main holotable in the center of the bridge. Blue and white lights being absorbed by his matte black Spec Ops armor. He continued to grill this insolent Human construct.

"My patience runs thin. Your failure to comply will result in you being dismantled."

Xitan's baritone voice carried heavily throughout the bridges, adding to the severity Cobaltis found himself in.

Simply put, he was stuck. And was put under the mercy of a Spec Ops Elite.

But his duty prioritized human survival, his 'life' was the price to pay for the secret of Earth to be buried. So once again, for the 100th time, he repeated.

"Hello, I am COB 7693-1, a fourth generation smart artificial intelligence construct built by the United Nations Space Command. How may I serve you today, Split Lips ?" Cobaltis spat with as much hate as a being with no lips could.

He could hear Xitan growl underneath his headdress. He'd been putting up with this for 15 minutes.

"Just smash the puny machine, it would be fun seeing it beg for its life."

Across the bridge a Jiralhanae Chieftain raised his bloodied gravity hammer towards Cobaltis.

"Calm yourself Trossieus, we will not be shadowed by a mere heretic construct!" Xitan countered.

Trossieus approached the avatar of Cobaltis, which was merely a floating black orb surrounded by faint blue mist. Cobalt blue cracks were present on the sphere.

"I believe the Huragok will enjoy ripping you to shreds." The Chieftain overshadowed the construct, growling every word in threat.

COB would have laughed if he could, a Brute trying intimidation tactics? Unheard of. No Huragok would be a part of a Covenant raiding party.

This didn't stop him from entertaining the thought however. The only purpose they would have served other than engineers was glorified suicide bombers. And the Unggoy were plenty good at that already.

COB wasn't worried in the slightest however, he was currently tracking the IFF tag that was his soon to be savoir.

Cobaltis was just buying time.

Xitan ignited his energy sword, and made a motion to swing.

"You will tell me the location of the remaining heretics left on this ship, or you will fall by my blade."

Trossieus was disappointed that he couldn't destroy the construct, but there was always the next human. They usually screamed well before he crushed them.

The Chieftain left Xitan to his interrogation and began to leave, pushing Grunts and Jackals aside as he made his way. The construct would be silenced soon and his clan would have to scour this ship for survivors. However an injured Grunt had caught his eye.

"Ah, finally! A question I can answer for you! I didn't realize that you Sangheili were this smart!"

The sound of a crowd applauding Xitan was played over the bridge speakers, COB's sarcastic attitude only angered Xitan more. Every syllable spoken made the cracks on COB's avatar pulsate.

"He's actually quite busy currently with your Brute buddy." A middle finger was displayed on COB's avatar. "Just ask him yourself."

Xitan snarled and whirred around, only for pain to explode from his arm.

Out from the shadows a phantom had thrown a blade with mastered accuracy, the combat knife lodged itself in between armor plating and plunged into his shoulder.

Xitan looked up at his aggressor and the carnage behind him.

The pummeled and bloodied bodies of Trossieus and lower-ranking Covenant littered the entrance of the bridge.

Snapped limbs and exposed bone was shown from the Kig-Yar while the Unggoy sported dented skulls and slash marks. Few of the bodies were riddled with bullet holes, a personal thank you from Jaxson's Silenced M7 SMG.

Trossieus bled red over his gray coat, grasping at his now open cavity in his neck with both hands, his gravity hammer laid just out of reach.

Xitan reached to pull the combat blade from his chest cavity, only for the Headhunter in front of him to respond by charging forward.

" DEMON! " Roared the Sangheili, throwing the knife away.

Blinded by pain and rage, Xitan threw an overhead slash, only for the Spartan to dodge right and uppercut the swordwielder.

The Elite's head snapped up and he saw stars while the Spartan kicked the Elite off balance and ripped the energized blade from his grasp. Jaxson began pounding his chest and head with blows that made Xitan stagger backward.

Xitan quickly shoved the Spartan out of punching range and reached to draw his sidearm, but the Spartan was faster, an M6D Magnum in his grasp.

50. Caliber cleanly pierced his damaged energy shields, puncturing his lungs and hearts. Xitan fell on his back, staring at the dull gray ceiling as he heard his twin hearts slowly pumping less and less.

The Demon picked up his discarded combat knife before slowly walking over towards the defenseless Sangheili.

He saw his reflection in his enemy's faceless visor. He wondered if it was even human, perhaps it was a machine-

7.9 inches of high carbon steel ended his life, spilling blood from his jugular. Dead eyes bore into his masked killer as he returned the blade to its sheath on his clavicle.

"Quick death for Spec Ops."

"Indeed, although he was quick talkative. Now would you kindly remove me from my shackles?"

Jaxson walked up to the dataport and plugged in his left gauntlet. A cable allowed a fragment of COB to make its home in his helmet before he pulled the data chip from the table.

He wouldn't be able to actively interface with COB, something MJOLNIR could, but COB's fragment could use features like his radio and HUD to communicate with him.

Jaxson walked across the bridge towards the nearest window, placing his gaze on the many Covenant settlements and camps set up in the canyon.

The Covies were set up on either side of the Marshall , either in the wrecks of Phantoms and Spirits, or portable raid camps. Kig-Yar snipers were set atop of floating watchtowers, next to them were barricades, crates, along with plasma and shade turrets. The surrounding ridgelines were littered with Elites, Brutes, Unggoy, Jackals. There were, albeit a small number of, Hunters and Drones as well.

The blues and purples of the Covenant were offset by the red and orange of the canyon and atmosphere, and the giant lava balls that floated on top of the nearby active volcanoes.

"What weapons does the Marshall still have online?" Jaxson inquired.

"Coilguns 1-5 and 7-9 are operational, archer pods E to H are still armed, the MAC is disabled currently."

Jaxson smiled.

He was going to use the remaining arsenal of the Marshall to its fullest extent.

Chapter 3: When Pigs Fly

Chapter Text

Morningstar Mansion, Pride Ring

Lucifer Morningstar was currently in his chamber overlooking the Pride Ring. The cities below his mansion were consumed by fires and the sound of gunfire. His white skin and suit contrasting the death he was overseeing. He saw robberies, public affection, and murder.

The King of Hell sported a slender figure with deathly white skin and rosy cheeks, blonde hair with paler-blonde highlights, and yellow eyes with red pupils slit like a snake. His red-and-white collared suit held a close resemblance with a ringmaster.

He adjusted his wide-brimmed white tophat and spoke softly,

"At it again it seems…"

Another turf war between overlords, so insignificant that their names escaped him. He manifested a glass of champagne in his hand, his apple-themed cane leaning in the crook of his elbow.

He was about to take a swig when his cellphone rang. Circus music played as his ringtone, he pulled up the caller ID as one of his informats. He groaned as he leaned back, staring at the ceiling before accepting the call.

"What do you need Zubsma, everytime you call I get bad news…" Lucifer dreaded

The caller spoke, their voice incomprehensible. Lucifer moved to sit in his chair.

"In Wrath? Right before the Harvest Moon Festival too… " He waved his hand in exasperation.

"Alright, have Johnny look into it, he's probably sitting on his lazy ass anyway."

Lucifer propped his elbows on a table and rubbed his eyes in annoyance as the call proceeded.

"It's that important?"

Lucifer's eyes were piqued with curiosity as Zubsma continued. A grim frown was present on his face. He swirled his glass, the intoxicating liquid spinning in an eye-catching manner.

"You mentioned strange Hellspawn? Could you be any more specific?"

He spun in his chair, staring at the wall. A picture of Himself, his ex-spouse Lilith, and his daughter Charlie. His face held a look of longing, he missed his family.

"Just leave them be, their probably just the f*cked up children of those inbred chucklef*cks in Wrath."

He leaned back in his chair and took another sip, looking over his hellish domain.

"I doubt they are much of a reason for concern anyway."

He would later regret those words.

Rough n' Tumbleweed Ranch, Wrath Ring - 20 Minutes Prior

The environment of Wrath was as dangerous as you expected, active volcanoes, flaming tornadoes that burnt your crops to a crisp, and the dry atmosphere left the unprepared to die of thirst.

All-in-all, probably the smartest place to set up a ranch, the ashes from the volcanoes made a great fertilizer. The soil was fertile and the river Styx provided water for the dry region.

Joe dug his spade into the ground and wiped the sweat off his forehead, admiring his work. He could tell that the season's harvest would be bountiful.

Joe was a burly imp, large arms and a pronounced chest, strength was a necessary trait in the ring of Wrath. He has red skin, yellow eyes, and white hair matching his bushy mustache.

He wore a sleeveless black coat along with a sleeveless tan shirt, a black belt with silver buckle, and gray pants with black boots.

Dusk was beginning to take over the ring, his remaining time to tend the crops was out.

The sound of the patio door creaking open was followed by his wife Lin, the love of his life. She was an imp like himself, clad in a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, faded blue jeans and a crimson ascot protecting her neck. She adjusted her dark hair before yelling out

"Honey, dinners' ready!"

Joe waved and acknowledged his wife,

"I'll be just a minute!"

Joe moved to collect the gardening tools scattered around the field before they succumbed to the elements. However a light over the horizon caught his attention.

"What in the…"

In the far distance, flashing lights illuminated the region. Explosions and streaks of bright light streaked across the area. The noise was loud enough to startle the Hell Hogs from their slumber, they began to agitate in their pens.

After about a minute, the bombardment ended as suddenly as it started. Joe stood in his field dumbfounded, he slowly started towards his house before he broke into a full sprint.

He wasn't sure of the danger, but whatever it was wasn't bearing good fruit. He was going to alert his wife and prepare for whatever the hell caused those eruptions.

Wrath Ring, UNSC Marshall , Hangar

"This better f*ckin' work COB!!"

Needler rounds bounced off the titanium frame of the Warthog.

"Don't fret, I've calculated your odds of survival at 56%, higher than I honestly expected."

"f*ck you!"

The Pelican flew over the edge of the hangar and started a nosedive towards the bottom of the canyon.

COB's grand plan for exiting the ship involved getting access to the hangar and flying a Pelican out. The only issue was that most of the aircraft were destroyed or damaged by the crash or the Covenant, and now without a getaway vehicle, they had to improvise.

The reason for the drastic measures was the fact that after the death of Xitan 'Sranomee, all Covenant forces left in the ship quickly started a manhunt, and without any time to recharge his camouflage module he was constantly running from dozens if not hundreds of Covies. A force that he would gladly fight if he operated in MJOLNIR, not SPI armor.

Once Jaxson reached the hangar, COB locked all the doors and airlocks, leaving the enemy to cut through. This gave Jaxson the time he required to attach a Warthog on the back of a damaged Pelican, and fly it off the starboard side of the Marshall .

Once fitted he hopped in the drivers side as a fragment of Cobalt flew the Pelican over the edge and they began their plummet.

"Get ready!"

Jaxson grit his teeth as the ground approached quickly, the Pelican thrusted up, battling its damaged thrusters, smoke plumes erupting from its left engines. The aircraft slowly descended, the crash was imminent.

At the last moment the Pelican disengaged the clamps attached to the Hog. The transition from freefall to hard Earth made Jaxson's soul hurt. The suspension bounced the Hog, and Jax hit the gas.

The flaming Pelican rammed into a Covenant Shade turret, eliciting a retaliation from his alien enemies. Plasma, needles, and bullets pinged off the Warthogs armored titanium frame.

"HELP WOULD BE NICE!"

"One moment, adjusting trajectories… and… FIRE!"

In that moment the remaining arsenal of the Marshall was unleashed, both Jaxson and the Covenant could only stare as missiles streaked across the sky, the beams of coilguns ripped infrastructure apart.

A path opened up in the blockade before him and he mashed the accelerator to the floor. The Marshall continued its onslaught as a distraction, covering Jax as he drove away.

Eventually, the only sound he heard was the engine roaring and his own rushed breath. He stared out into the night, the path before him illuminated by active volcanoes and the headlights off his Hog. He sunk back into his seat and cheered,

"I love my f*ckin' job!"

Wrath Ring, UNSC Marshall , Covenant Encampment Alpha

Hell

That was the only word Doza 'Navamee could use to describe his current situation.

Everything was normal, until it wasn't.

Nak Jek, a Kig-Yar sniper, had spotted a Human reconnaissance vehicle leaving the Human warship. 'Navamee had ordered all units to prepare as the heretic approached the blockade they had set up. Once within range they had begun to fire upon the vehicle, only for the fury of gods to descend upon them.

Once the Human was under attack, the ship Doza had sent Xitan 'Sranomee to disable had fired upon them, wreaking havoc on their entrenchment of defenses.

Coilguns fired kinetic slugs at predetermined targets while missiles conducted saturation bombardment. They only stopped firing after the Human was long gone.

Doza stood among the dust, guts and rust. The wreck of barricades, vehicles and buildings surrounded him. Blood stained the floor and scattered limbs decorated the area. Staring at the corpses of his soldiers, his comrades. His blood SEETHED . He wiped the blood off his face and stared into his palm.

"What are your orders Field Marshall?"

'Navamee turned, behind him stood a few survivors, ranging from Unggoy to Jiralhanae to Sangheili. He witnessed a Mgalekgolo wail in rage as its bond brother was dissected by heretical weaponry.

They all bore wounds similar to him, cuts and scratches, covered in blood and grime. They had been disgraced. He raised a clawed hand,

"Organize the remaining squads, mend your wounds, we must prepare. By the will of the Gods the Demon will be extinguished."

For now he must rally his troops. He pushed his hate down for now, it would only detriment him. For now, he let that feeling boil, sizzling until it was required.

"So I may cut you down myself…" Doza promised,

Wrath Ring

Jaxson was driving an M12 Warthog, kicking up a dust cloud as it scampered away from the warzone that was the UNSC Marshall . Using coilguns and Archer missiles as a smoke screen wasn't his smartest idea, but he's had worse.

After his… amazing getaway, they had hit the road. Contemp with getting as far away from the Covies as humanly possible.

COB had picked up radio waves that were transmitting from a few dozen miles away. Funnily enough, they were speaking English, even stranger was the fact that this planet didn't pop up in any record of known colonies, then again the environmental readouts from this place were already weird as f*ck. COB suggested they had landed in Insurrectionist space or a faraway colony with no affiliation to the UEG.

Jaxson was switching between channels on the Hogs' radio, after some technical work, Jaxson had configured it to listen in on the radio waves COB had picked up. The only problem was that the audible transactions that occurred were…odd.

"-ah Bill! I swear those Exterminators have to ha-"

"Good afternoon, I'm Katie Kill-"

"-er those bombings between Pentious and Cherri-"

The next channel he switched to made Jaxson jolt in surprise. They were screams. Maniacal laughter was followed by cries of terror. After a while those sobs turned to blood curdling screams yet again. It sounded like torture was being broadcasted, but who in their f*cking right mind would do that? Eventually a comprehensible voice cut through the howls of pain.

"And that my dear listeners is the former Overlord Lance Grave, this is a reminder to all you sinners who think they have a semblance of actual power."

Radio static and buzzing was heard, warbling the voice of the speaker.

"Don't cross the Radio Demon…"

"Wait wait wait!!! No no no no NO!"

A loud squelch was heard, silencing the screams, this was followed by humming, presumably by the 'Radio Demon.'

Afterwards the sounds of chewing and munching were heard. Jaxson turned off the radio.

"What the f*ck…"

COB stayed silent. If he were honest, he would have said this was the strangest thing he has ever witnessed in his 2 years of life. Who just broadcasts a kill? Was it a common bloodsport on this planet? What was with the mention of demons? Were they code or slang for this colony's citizens?

Jaxson coasted the Warthog, eventually coming to a stop. He hopped out and walked to the edge of the cliff he parked on. Lava flowed in a molten river below him, he thanked his suits' climate control for keeping him cool.

He sat on the edge, and started to open the sealings in his tech suit, he was allowing it to vent. The tech suit that Jaxson was wearing had many functions, one of those included absorbing the sweat from his skin in order to maximize its user's comfort.

The problem was that over time the suit became oversaturated, leaving the armor to cling to his skin. Since he had downtime, he might as well vent his suit. As this process progressed, Jaxson squinted into the distance, his helmet automatically zoomed in.

Besides the active volcanoes and the rocky mountains, Jaxson could make out a settlement in a clearing roughly 10 miles away. It looked like farmland, ranches littered the area with fields of crops and pens full of animals. COB noted,

"We should head down there, we need more information on this place and you could use the food."

As if on cue, Jaxson's stomach growled. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't able to eat when he boarded the Marshall due to the Covenant attack, meaning he has been starving for the past few days.

Jaxson nodded, and inspected his loadout while he waited for his armor to vent. He had chosen an M7S SMG and a SOCOM M6D for their stealth capabilities, however the scarcity of bullets meant that his knife would still be his primary tool to dispatch foes. He had the bloodied M90 pump shotgun laying in the passenger seat in the Warthog, waiting to be used.

Jaxson wondered what to do next. The Marshall wasn't space-worthy and he doubted any colonist here would just hand him a ship. He would have to steal one and risk being shot out of orbit by AA platforms. And he would only try that if he knew where in the galaxy he was.

He was stranded in a volcanic hellhole with downright insane citizens and laws. He probably would have to kill his first human pretty soon, but for some reason the thought didn't bother him. He sealed his suit as he got up and walked to the Hog. He leaned back inside the driver's seat and shut his eyes, drifting to sleep.

It was time to figure out what other hellish bullsh*t this place had in store for him.

Rough n' Tumbleweed Ranch, Wrath Ring

It was the following noon of the incident, yet life carried on normally for Joe. He still had a ranch to maintain and an ever present list of chores that needed to be done.

He was busy feeding his Hell Hogs, although he kept a watchful eye in the direction of the mayhem that occurred the day before.

Once he finished he shifted towards his house, intent on a short break from labor. However his daughter Sallie May had caught his eye. She had long dark hair that was somewhat tied up by a red bandanna, she wore tan boots and shorts along with a black crop top and ripped leggings. She was leaning on the fence that surrounded his property, staring into the distance.

Tracing her gaze with his eyes, he observed a large plume of dust being kicked up on the horizon, the vehicle unrecognizable at its current distance. Joe called out,

"Sallie! Is that Cameron?! It's about time he brought in those ash apples!"

Sallie May turned around, face filled with curiosity. She shrugged before answering.

"I don't think that Cam could afford wheels like that Pa."

Joe was about to ask why, until he got a better look at the vehicle. It was an armored green truck with the hardtop removed…and a giant chaingun in the truck bed.

Joe's muscles locked up at the sight of it. It would easily tear apart him and his family. He wondered who the hell just rolled up on his property, he had no debts to pay and was a free man, there was no reason this truck should be here.

The truck had pulled off to the side of the entrance to the ranch, its driver turned the engine off before stepping out. The suspension of the truck accommodates for the shifting weight. A large man in armor landed on the ground, kicking up dirt as he fell from the 3 foot clearance of the vehicle.

The closer he got, the stranger he looked. It was a being that easily cleared 6 foot tall, his armor was wolf gray and he had a large bulbous gold visor covering his face. If you looked carefully, you could see a black undersuit along with bracers covering his ankles and forearms. He was armed with a handgun locked to his right thigh and a knife over his left shoulder.

The assassin hesitatingly approached before stopping 50 feet away from Joe and Sallie May, he slightly raised his hands in a friendly manner. The man spoke,

"You guys happen to speak English?"

Wrath Ring - 5 Minutes Prior

Jaxson stepped on the gas as he approached the settlement, playing the outcome of fictional conversations in his head.

He really wasn't the diplomatic type, but kidnapping a farmer for intel was a sh*tty idea in the first place. So he had to do what most Spartans dreaded, talking to normal civilians.

He already wasn't a big talker with his fellow Spartans… how was he going to converse in a friendly manner with people who have probably seen only a small fraction of the horrors he has? Jaxson sighed.

"What's wrong Jax?"

The Headhunter mulled the words in his head before answering.

"How the hell am I going to get information out of these guys without… you know… the 'fun' method."

Jaxson pulled his hands off the wheel and air quotes himself.

"Ignoring the prompt towards human torture techniques… I'd say just ask."

"Really? It's just that easy?"

The Spartan was confused. Other than his fellow Spartan-III's, Jaxson only really talked to drill instructors and his ONI handler. Usually information was only given freely on a need-to-know basis. If it helped his mission, he knew it, otherwise, it was marked in enough black ink the truth stayed buried for decades to come.

Sometimes his handler didn't tell him anything but the mission location and objective. Just pointed at a target and he and Matthew would erase it from existence. The thought of just… asking was foreign.

"Affirmative, in my experience, most people are happy to indulge your inquiries. But I suppose your social exposure would be lacking due to your line of work."

Jaxson scoffed.

"Do not worry, I will handle diplomatic relations, you handle kicking ass."

The Headhunter nodded, glad someone had his back on this rock.

Soon he neared the settlement, many farm hands were tending the fields, many wore hats, hiding their faces from his view. He chose a ranch at random before slowly pulling up.

"Rough n' Tumbleweed Ranch…" Jaxson drawled,

"Catchy."

He turned off the Warthog and disembarked. Landing with a thud , he continued his walk towards the front gate of the ranch. He spotted two people close to the entrance, but their appearance was… strange to say the least.

They weren't Human, but they weren't Covies either. They weren't directly hostile so he continued his stride, stopping at around 50 feet away. Their gaze was of curiosity and fear, so he raised his hands in a hopingly friendly way.

"You guys happen to speak English?"

The older fellow raised an eyebrow in confusion and uncrossed his arms. The younger female smiled before putting her hands on her hips.

"Why yes we do sir! Now, what can we do for you? Are you looking to buy?"

Jaxson lowered his hands, returning to a neutral stance. The words 'demon' and 'sinner' that he overheard on the radio were starting to make sense.

"I just have some questions…"

The older fellow turned to the female and spoke,

"Sallie May, why don't you go inside and help your mother. I'll help this fella out."

"Ummm… Okay, see you later!"

Sallie ran off towards home, pondering why her father blew her off in front of someone new.

The farmer turned back to Jaxson, before giving him a death stare. He did his best to intimidate the Spartan, it was challenging considering that Jaxson had more than a head of height on the man.

"Now what the hell do you really want, boy?"

Jaxson felt the rising hostility, hand slowly inching towards his magnum. COB voiced his concerns in his helmet.

"I would advise against shooting the first native you see, he is just wary of you, don't prove him right."

Jaxson sighed, relaxing his hand before turning his external speakers on again.

"I don't want anything but answers to questions, I'm…"

Joe noticed the pause and let him continue.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm lost…" he paused, "I've lost my partner and I'm looking for answers."

It was awkward talking about the truth, even if was only a half-the story.

Joe's face softened slightly, he was familiar with loss.

"You a merc? I've never seen gear like that before."

The Spartan looked down at himself. Yes that's all he really was, a killing machine.

"Something like that…"

Even in full armor, Joe could tell the young lad was troubled, and in need of a helping hand. And besides, he could use more manpower. He extended a hand.

"Names Joe, and you've stepped foot on my ranch. If you're going to be around you might as well get paid for it."

He pointed his head towards a pen. Inside was a Hell Hog fast asleep.

"If you can help me prepare dinner and work everyday, you can stay for the time being."

Jackson was about to reject the offer, but once again, COB interjected.

"I would take the offer, right now we know nothing, have nothing, and are an outsider to these people. It would be beneficial to make connections when the opportunity arises."

The Headhunter ran the possibilities of the agreement, before saying f*ck it. He had no handler, no mission, no partner, and Joe was right. If he was gonna do something, might as well get paid for it. He shook his hand.

"Jaxson."

"Well Jaxson, wanna take a crack at the boar?"

The Spartan eyed the HellHog before slowly drawing his blade. Jaxson kept his answer short, still unsure of how to converse with Joe.

"Affirm…"

Chapter 4: Feet First

Chapter Text

Creshen, Ovi System, 2 Months Prior

Raging winds and sandstorms blew across the desert planet of Creshen. Two figures walked through the dust storm unphased, one clad in wolf gray and the other in olive green. Both wore tattered, tan ponchos, helping keep the sand out of their armor and giving them a lower profile.

"This place is a sh*t-hole."

"There's a reason the hinge-heads like it so much Matt."

Matthew turned to face his partner, his helmet was different from Jaxson's. As the designated marksman, Matthew was equipped with a SPI equivalent of a GEN 1 Recon helmet. Jaxson asked to receive a CQC variant but the requisition was shot down due to budget constraints.

"Well, they won't be liking it for much longer. This bad boy will make sure of that."

Matthew patted his hip pack, inside a protective case was a fusion warhead. The objective was to plant the nuke in the heart of the Covenant shipyard on Creshen, buying time for the fleet back home. The major problem was that most of the Sangheili that inhabited this planet lived underground in complex tunnel systems due to Creshen's extreme temperature and environment. Sneaking in was the easy part, but once the operation went loud escaping would be increasingly difficult. Especially with the timer on the warhead counting down.

Matthew carried himself with a calm and steady pace, clamping onto his DMR patiently. Jaxson was constantly moving, shaking out his limbs, staying combat ready. Matthew observed this behavior, smiling beneath his helmet. If there was one thing Jax craved, it was close quarters fighting, a strange attribute for someone of his build. Jaxson was relatively short for a Spartan, he reached 5' 11. Many would think him at a disadvantage due to his lacking height, but all the growth enchantments and supplements fed to him while training went elsewhere, to his muscles. He was a nuisance for anyone he sparred with, his short stature forced Jaxson to get inside his opponent's guard before wrestling his partner to the mat. Jaxson grew to be an outstanding grappler and striker, known to throw all 225 pounds of his mass with ease.

Matthew was more on the lanky side, a slim figure fit of a professional cross country runner. He reached a solid 6'4 and had proficiency with precision weapons and strategy. His marksmanship only rivaled 2nd to Mark-G313, a fellow sniper. Matt's biggest weapon was his mind. Oftentimes his teammates thought he had a sixth sense. Time after time, Matthew would read the battlefield and predict the flow of the enemy, setting up choke points and ambushes to counter attack, dispatching enemies before they knew what hit them.

These traits made the Headhunter duo so great. In a perfect world, Jaxson would infiltrate while Matthew spotted from the shadows. Once sh*t hit the fan, Jaxson would engage in hit-and-run tactics, constantly cloaking and repositioning before assassinating his next target. Matthew would pick off HVT's, disrupting the Covenant chain of command as the Grunts and Jackals scurried about. They always stayed within line of sight of each other, ready to assist their fellow Spartan if the need arised.

This form of guerilla warfare worked well outside; however things would be different in the tunnels of Creshen. Dim light halls, claustrophobic corridors, and possibly hundreds of Elites stationed there. Not the most ideal situation for Matthew, but Jaxson looked pumped to be in action. Matthew decided to comment,

"Someone's happy."

"ONI always gives us fun jobs, and I'm happy I get to use this for once."

Jaxson turned to face his partner, walking backward and motioned to the M90 that hung on a sling over his front.

"Nothin' beats being up close and personal."

The stealth ability of SPI armor combined with the raw firepower that 8-gauge carried wasn't something to scoff at. You could literally blow the head off an alien SOAB and disappear into the shadows before his buddies had any idea where the Hell shots came from.

Matthew didn't share his euphemism, but he wasn't worried. Every mission had hiccups but they always powered through no matter the obstacle. They did it out of spite for these aliens bastards.

"At least you're my meat shield."

Jaxson flew the bird before continuing his pathing. They were approaching their target.

They reached the edge of the plateau and the sandstorm was beginning to die off, showing off two moons in the sky. The slope in front of them leads down to one of the many entrances.

They laid in wait, the canyon before them was composed of red, white, and orange. Matt was prone, scoping the area with his rifle, Jaxson crouched beside him, shotgun over his shoulder, squinting his eyes as his helmet automatically magnified his vision.

Jaxson looked to the sky as Covenant corvettes and battlecruisers jumped to and from the planet. Watching as the Covenant's trademark purple bounced across his vision. Creshen's twin moons were a sight to behold as well. After an hour Matt finally spoke,

"Shipments flowing in now, ready up."

Jax acknowledged his partner, grabbing the forestock of his M90 and racking a round. Both ripped off their ponchos, and activated the photo-reflective panels on their armor.

Both Headhunters made their way towards the locked entrance and stacked up against the side of the door. They waited.

Roughly a minute went by before a Spirit came into view, after hovering in front of the entrance it dropped its cargo. Purple crates were dropped from the underbelly of the aircraft, the two prongs of the vehicle opened as a mass of Unggoy jumped out in order to move the shipment.

The Grunts moved the payload closer to the door, that's when the entrance turned from red to green, granting access to the labor team. These Grunts were not fitted with the usual combat harness, instead they bore a twin tube style methane tank on their backs commonly seen with labor teams.

The moving crew waddled into the facility and the assassin's followed, footfalls masked by years of training. Matt and Jax followed five meters behind the cannon fodder, weapons primed and raised. They passed many Sangheili and Huragok. This far into Covenant space was generally safe for a shipyard such as this, meaning that most of the opposing force here was minimally armed. Most Elites were unshielded, only sporting form-fitting black tech suits and armed with plasma pistols and rifles. Most of the Sangheili they came across were busy at holotables or redirecting the maintenance crew the Spartans were following.

The grunts started to head further into the engineering deck, squabbling amongst themselves as they talked in a nasal tone. Eventually Matt split off and Jax followed, they had their eyes on a much bigger prize. After many turns and twists in the purple and gray corridors, they found their target.

A giant CSO-Class Supercarrier laided in the foundry before them. Huragok flew in large slews across the 18 mile long behemoth, slowly building the monstrosity piece by piece. The duo approached the main grav-lift below the carrier, condescending purple light guiding crewmembers aboard the mothership. Once the coast was clear, both stepped onto the lift and rose into the belly of the beast.

Thankfully, they were familiar with the layout of the ship. Their handler had them running in sim-pods for days . The corridors only heard wisps as shadows prowled past sentry after sentry. They made their way into the control room, now it was time to get loud. The bridge crew consisted of Sangheili officers, very few adorned battle harnesses, the Spartans smiled.

Jaxson played a digital countdown that was transmitted between both their helmets, their HUD's lit up in unison.

3

2

1

The dead silence of the bridge crew was interrupted, both gray and olive Spartans emerged from the shadows to breathe their hatred.

Jaxson immediately blew off the head of the closest officer, spreading brain matter, bone, and blood across the senior official next to him. The official didn't get time to contemplate before his chest gained a few new holes. Matt immediately started cleaning house, placing body shots and headshots around the room. Bodies dropped with heavy thuds.

The Elites without shields were the first to fall, dying to their own complacency. At the main console, the Shipmaster roared and ignited his blade. His men quickly took up arms and began to counterattack.

Matthew kept the enemies heads down as Jaxson advanced, surging into his foes as shells littered the ground behind him. Jax shouted to his partner,

"Cover me!"

Matthew's status light winked green in confirmation as he engaged in suppressive fire, Jaxson fell onto his ass behind a holotable and began loading shells into its top receiver. Once Jaxson was concealed Matthew retreated as needler rounds and bolts of plasma tore apart the pillar he was using as cover.

Matthew being pinned down allowed his teammate breathing room. Jaxson reached into his utility belt and pulled out an object, throwing it behind him into the fray of Covenant forces.

"9-bang!"

The flashbang exploded shortly after, screams of pain were heard as Matt and Jax stemed from cover. The blind and disoriented Elites stood no chance as the Headhunters tore into them. All that was left was the Shipmaster, his stoic white armor stained by the blood of his comrades. Matthew left Jaxson to his work as he removed the fusion bomb from its casing and activated it. The Elite spat,

"Demons…"

The Sangheili charged Jax with his energy blade. Jaxson spent his last shell, depleting the Shipmasters shield, staggering him. Jax dodged a swipe before smacking the Elite across his face with the butt of his weapon.

"That looks like it hurts."

Jackson dropped his shotgun before socking the Shipmaster in the face. The Elite tried once more to slash his target, only for Jax to weave and disarm the Elite, he moved to close the gap. The Spartan started to grapple, throwing in two underhooks and shoving his mass into the Elite. In retaliation the Shipmaster shoved back, only for the Spartan to pivot his hips and throw the warrior, using his forward momentum against him. The shipmaster landed flat on his back as Jackson mounted him and began to choke the life out of him, he used his knees to pin down the Sanghelili's failing arms. Jaxson quickly broke its neck as its mandibles and limbs went limp. The Shipmaster's head fell back against the deck, the sound of his helmet smacking the floor echoing in the now quiet control room. Matt chuckled from across the room,

"Y'know shooting him would have worked too."

Matthew was arming the fusion warhead, his back to his partner.

"Yeah, but that takes the fun out of it."

Matthew scoffed and stood, finishing arming the nuke and turned to his teammate. He returned the M90 to its owner.

"You're not ever babysitting my kids, man."

Jaxson smiled, letting Matt help him up. A timer popped up in his HUD.

"10 minutes, let's get a move on before more gators start snooping."

Matthew winked his status light green and the assassin's headed toward the flight deck to commandeer a Phantom. However a strange drowsiness overtook Jax as his vision dulled. The Spartan stumbled and fell to a knee, his head was spinning. Matt continued walking, unable to hear his teammate collapsing behind him.

Jaxson awoke in Joe's pole barn. He slept sitting, leaning against the wall while cradling his SMG. A broken tractor rusted away to his left while the workbench to his right was littered with mismatched parts and trash. Currently he had shelter in exchange for physical labor. It didn't bother him much due to his physique, but farmwork was definitely a new concept to Jax.

"What a dream…"

Before he arose from his crouched position, COB alerted him.

"Good morning! I've been quite busy snooping around Hell's systems. No need to brag but their security is atrocious! Anyway, I've found out something interesting."

Jax stood, locking the M7S to his thigh before trotting toward his Warthog, ready for an evening of work.

"There are multiple Rings, or layers to Hell. Think Dante's Inferno," he paused, letting it soak in, "If we were to ascend to the Pride Ring my control over this domain will expand. If we get lucky I may even find a way out."

Jaxson hopped in the driver's seat and started the Hog.

"Why Pride?"

Jax weaved the vehicle around hazards and continued on the well worn path to the ranch.

"Pride contains the various 'sinners' that fall from Earth, many of whom have been inventors and creators of technology. One of the biggest corporations leading the charge would be VoxTech. If you can get me there I can make the magic happen."

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow, I'm still working on infiltrating a few more networks. It's difficult here in the Ring of Wrath, the bandwidth is terrible. After that we're golden."

Jaxson nodded and parked the vehicle outside Joe's house. This would be his last day at this ranch.

Rough n' Tumbleweed Ranch, Warth Ring

Sallie May watched the Headhunter from the safety of her room. He was moving hay bales by hand. He had removed the mounted chain gun from the back of his armored truck and was using it to transport bales of hay to the polebarn. He moved somewhat mechanically, no wasted movement, everything he did had a purpose in order to maximize efficiency. It was strange to see in action.

The man hasn't said a word to her since he arrived a few days ago, only making short conversation with her father about the next task. Whenever he was given food, he would thank Lin before eating elsewhere, an action that left her suspicious. The man kept his identity secret behind an expressionless faceplate, the reasoning behind it intrigued her.

Jaxson hopped into his truck and started toward the barn, eager to finish his task. Sallie May stepped back from her window and shifted towards the stairs. Once on the ground floor she made her way into the living room, spotting Joe on the recliner, bottle of beer in his hand.

"I hear he's leavin'?"

Joe turned toward her and shrugged. The liquid in the bottle sloshing around.

"Yup, said something 'bout heading to Pride tomorrow morning, he's gonna work today and kick rocks by dawn." Joe took a swig of his beverage before laying it on the coffee table in front of him. He laid back further in his chair before continuing,

"I'm gonna miss him, he works twice as hard as anyone else I've got working for me. He really is a machine, don't think I've seen him take a break."

Sallie crossed her arms, deep in thought. A light bulb was almost visible over her head as she was pulled back to reality. She snapped her fingers,

"That's just the description I was looking for! He probably is a machine! I mean, how many fellas walk around Wrath with no horns?"

Sallie made note of the fact that Jaxson's helmet had no room for common demon physical traits. Generally, most species in Hell had something adorning their heads, ranging from horns to large ears to fins. Joe dismissed her train of thought as fantasy.

"I'm sure he ain't, he eats food doesn't he?"

Sallie quickly countered her father.

"Have we ever seen him eat? We've never seen his face, and the way he moves is mechanical as well."

Sallie May continued to push, hungry for an answer. Joe looked at his daughter in exasperation, he was getting tired of this conversation.

"I'm not a walking library girl. Who he is and what the man does is his business, now go bother someone else or finish your chores."

Joe ended the conversation there, slowly grabbing the morning paper he had already read and making a barrier between them.

Sallie May groaned before getting up and exiting the room.

Bursting through the front door and onto the patio, she immediately laid eyes on Striker, another farmhand. The imp had pale red skin, yellow eyes and a serpentine like face. His black mustache and ivory white hair matched his black and white horns.

He wore the outfit of a southern cowboy, large gray sunhat, red bandana around his neck, and his feet were enclosed in cowboy boots. He wears a black turtleneck shirt with a dark gray vest and a light gray jacket with dark gray cuffs and black tassels below. He also has black fingerless gloves and ivory white pants that are ripped by the thighs.

Striker was tending to his steed, Bombproof. A flaming horse demon that Striker used for transport. Bombproof's coat was dark gray with black stripes, his mane and tail were composed of flame, and the underbelly of the beast rippled with molten lava. Sallie shouted,

"Hey Mister!"

Striker turned around, ceasing to brush Bombproofs's coat. He spit out the straw of wheat in his mouth before motioning over to Sallie May.

"What can I do for ya' little one?"

He spoke in a southern drawl common to natives of Wrath. The slimy smile on his face fit his mischievous appearance. Sallie pointed at the Spartan.

"I just wanted your take on our newest farmhand. Apparently he's gonna leave tomorrow."

Striker leaned against his steed and stared out at the Spartan. Jaxson was busy lifting hundreds of pounds of hay with ease, before placing them in the back of his Warthog and driving off. Once again, every motion was with maximum efficiency in mind. Striker's face twisted in thought as he formed words.

"So I've heard, but if you want my opinion…"

Striker scratched the underside of his chin, looking into the distance in thought.

"I don't think that fella' knows how to relax… the way he moves just looks unnatural, and don't even get me started on his armor."

Sallie waited as Striker collected his thoughts.

"When most people put on suits like that, they want to spice up their appearance to look flashy. Everything on his body is purely utilitarian… he looks like a soldier. And the questions he asks are even stranger… It's like he just got here…"

Striker found Jaxson to be an Enigma, he was the polar opposite of Striker, but it didn't make him despise the Spartan. Striker floated a whole persona of a talented cowboy in order to strike fear and respect the people around him. This Spartan however, demanded mutual respect without saying a word. His presence alone was unnerving enough, there was just SOMETHING about the man besides his armor that rubbed him the wrong way. He already tried talking to the Headhunter, only to receive short vocal responses in agreement or disagreement. He figured whatever the guy was keeping to himself wasn't his business. Besides, he had a prince to kill at the Harvest Moon Festival, and it sounded like Jaxson was leaving, which was good for business. He was hoping the Headhunter wouldn't intervene in his assassination, but the Spartan would be long gone by the time the festival rolled around.

Striker turned to his horse, before clambering atop him and adjusting his sun hat. Striker started chewing on another straw of hay. He peered out unto the setting sun.

"Anyway, I'm finished for the day. Im hittin the road." He grins at Sallie, "See you around!"

Striker threw up a lazy wave before departing, leading Bombproof away in a steady trot.

Sallie May waved him off, watching as the farmhand made his way off the property. Dusk started to take the property and she turned toward the armored green truck, the Headhunter was loading the last few bales before the sun set. Sallie started towards the truck, approaching its owner.

The Spartan knew of her presence thanks to his motion tracker, but chose to ignore her, persisting in his task. Sallie May stood her ground, staring into his back and giving his armor another once over. While she didn't enjoy the silent treatment, she did take the time to observe the various dents, scratches and burns that riddled his suit. The Spartan threw the last bale of hay into the bed of the Warthog, turning only his head to glance at her. She took the moment of acknowledgement to ask,

"What are you exactly?"

The assassin stayed still, asking himself the same question. Such a simple question held varied responses. Although he never asked himself why he did what he did, he just did as he ordered, as his duty for humanity required him too.

The Headhunter stood still as a statue, aimlessly staring ahead as Sallie waited patiently for an answer. Jaxson gave his job description,

"I'm a Headhunter."

The imp could only stare in bewilderment, unsure of how to carry on with the conversation. She slowly voiced her questions,

"What is that?"

Jaxson lowered his gaze, into his open weaponless hand. It felt strange to use his hands to work, rather than kill.

"An assassin, I eliminate HVT's."

"Why did you choose your…line of work?"

Jaxson pondered, it was a strange question from a being from f*ckin' hell, he fiqured that his role might be more common down here. Maybe these creatures weren't as destructive as he thought.

"Revenge."

It felt sullen to admit that, the deaths of his parents and the glassing of his planet replayed in his mind. Sallie May leered into the empty visor of the assassin, searching for answers that didn't exist. The Spartan closed his palm, convinced.

"Revenge for who?"

For who? Jaxson would say his family, but he couldn't see the point in loathing for a family he hardly remembered. Instead, he prefered fighting for the family that raised him to be the killing machine he is. But now, he was stranded in hell, without a family to fight for. He dejectedly looked at Sallie May, his shoulders slouched slightly.

"For my brothers and sisters."

He had seen the aftermath of Onyx only in reports, it made his blood boil, but he was powerless here to assist them. The Spartan looked upward, towards a dark sky devoid of any stars, any signs of life. He was stranded and could no longer complete his objective, he was useless.

"I have outlived my usefulness." He returned his gaze to Sallie May, "I have no clear purpose anymore."

Sallie was sure if she could see the face behind the visor, she would see a solemn smile. She would be correct.

Jaxson had been holding off the realization by the constant physical labor he was performing, but now that thought about it, he was free from the war. The thought sickened him. He was free from a war he trained for years to fight, to get revenge on the f*cking bastards that glassed the outer colonies. Over 20 billion humans are dead in a war he cannot return to.

Most people would congratulate the thought, but Jax was in mental turmoil. He volunteered at 7, after he was orphaned, in order to serve humanity . How would he do that now that he was in f*cking Hell?!

The rising anxiety and stress was leaving him agitated, his augments were affecting the frontal lobe of his brain. His vision narrowed and instinct overtook him. Anger washed over logic as his veins washed with lava, he grit his teeth as his muscles tensed.

Jax cursed inwardly, but he needed something to break. Jaxson grabbed the rear bumper of the Warthog and the titanium frame creaked under his grip. It finally snapped and it was crushed under the pressure. He held the vehicle until he calmed down. The indents of his fingers were present as he removed his hand. Sallie watched in shock.

One of the many illegal augments Gamma Company received was a drug that influenced the brain. In the heat of battle or times of stress, his brain would be overtaken by his frontal lobe and his animal instincts would influence his combat, increasing aggression and strength. So much so that he could even break the necks of Jiralhanae.

Sallie's eyes shifted between the Spartan and the crushed bumper, fear starting to overtake her. Jaxson watched her reaction, her eyes dilated. He sighed, it sounded mechanical as it blared through his helmet filters. The few marines and ODST's he worked with usually had the same reaction after seeing him fight.

"I can tell that you're scared of me, I'll be gone by morning."

He turned his back and embarked into the vehicle. Sallie was about to voice her concerns but he was already leaving. The headlights fading over a hilltop in the direction of the polebarn.

Sallie was unsure of how to continue, she quietly returned home and slid into bed, mulling over the words the Spartan had dropped on her.

Pride Ring, SOEIV Drop Pod, Three Days Prior

The descent into hell wasn't pleasant, his vision was deteriorating and tinnitus rang in his ears. The rocking of the drop pod as it fell only served to unnerve him more. Matthew gripped the safety harness like a lifeline, the imprint of his fingers were visible on the titanium frame.

The pod was spinning out of control, all he could see was the red atmosphere of whatever planet he was dropping into.

Struggling against inertia, Matthew grabbed the control sticks of his pod and activated the drag chute. The pod balanced out and the ground rapidly approached. Matt groaned in dismay,

"f*ck me…"

The drag chute tore off the top of his pod and the landing boosters engaged, preventing him from becoming human paste.

The SOEIV pod blew through an entire skyscraper and crashed into the street below, digging up asphalt and cars alike at its momentum carried it further along the street.

The smoking pod slowed to a stop. The street exploded in a clamor of panic and rage. The occupants of the surrounding vehicles disembarked, angry looks colored their faces.

"My f*cking car you dipsh*t! What the hell's wrong with you?!"

An imp arose from the rubble of his destroyed vehicle and pointed a firearm at the pod. The pod hissed for a moment, venting gas. The next second the hatch detonated, launching it high in the air before slamming into the imp with a thud . Blood seeped out underneath the glass hatch, the demon was crushed and killed.

Many of the occupants stared at the open pod, expecting some crazy sinner to pop out, the unexpected scared them. A tall figure draped in green emerged. The man's armor bore battle scars and burn marks, his black undersuit opposed his suit's olive green. He observed the area, his gold visor scanning as he lifted his rifle and reloaded. Eventually, people returned to their senses, and whoever had their vehical wrecked wanted twisted justice. Anyone else not involved quickly sensed the upcoming fight, many demons wisely started to flee. The ones that didn't drew weapons, in the form of melee and firearms.

"GET THAT MOTHERf*ckER!"

Matt reacted as soon as the first weapon was pointed at him. His weapon's smart linked with his HUD, placing a crosshair on his visor. His arm snapped and quickly blew the head open of his first aggressor, a hellhound. The wolf-like demon dropped like a brick, his SMG discharging into the floor as he held the trigger. The following demons fared no different.

With practiced ease he mowed down his enemies, his bullets removing brain matter, disabling limbs, or puncturing vital organs. On the street adjacent to his fight, a news van rolled up and its backdoor opened.

Two demons rolled out, one was a cameraman.

"For Satan's sake, JERRY get that camera rolling!"

The driver, a blue incubus, yelled as his partner slowly moved the equipment into place.

"Gimme a f*ckin' sec Todd!"

The cameraman was a small imp, one of his horns was missing. He showed a thumbs up as his camera focused and the shoot was ready. Matt blew a hole straight through another incubus, the exit wound sprayed black blood over his buddies. They soon followed suit and dropped like flies.

"Hey asshole!"

An imp announced his sneak attack, attacking from behind with a bat. Matthew spun on his heels, quickly deflecting the strike with his forearm, before delivering a swift kick to the imps sternum. He raised his BR to finish the job, that imp's torso gained three new holes. However a red dot appeared on his motion tracker a second too late. He felt a ticklish sensation in his back. His attacker screamed in suprise,

"What the f*ck!?!?"

Matthew turned and elbow striked the sinner behind him, caving in his nose. The sinner had attempted to stab Matthew, placing his strike in between his armor plates and hitting the black undersuit. However the undersuit was just as protective as kevlar, the liquid nanocrystals solidified upon being struck. The sinner looked up at the Headhunter, tears leaving his eyes as blood gushed from his destroyed nose. He weakly raised his hands, an attempt to defend himself, worthless stuttering rolled from his mouth. Matthew raised a boot and silenced the sinner, the crunch that followed irked the camera team. Jerry looked at Todd.

"Man… he is f*ckin' them up."

"You think it's a new Overlord?"

"Probably, otherwise we would have heard of him by now, he could be like the Radio Demon..."

The thought sent chills down their spines as the Headhunter before then continued to tear into his opposition. They watched as Matt worked into a rhythm, firing his BR and letting the first two rounds impact center mass, the last bullet in the burst would pierce the neck or head as recoil forced the gun up. Black and red blood was splattered onto the littered streets as most of the demons who charged him were laying cold and dead. The sinners would regenerate overtime, the Hellborn weren't as lucky. Eventually the last demon was felled, and the Spartan stood undefeated. Crimson covered his boots and arms, the olive color in his armor was fading.

Matthew observed his surroundings. Looking between the crimson sky, the beings he had slaughtered, and the primitive city that surrounded him. The Headhunter's eyes landed on the camera crew, staring directly into the lenses. Jerry's jaw dropped, chills running down his spine. The horizontal slit visor that ran across the Spartans helmet enhanced his look as a true hunter, mercilessly and effortlessly dispatching his prey.

Todd grabbed Jerry and shook him out of his stupor,

"Let's get out of here…"

Jerry dumbly nodded and retreated to their van before hastily shifting in reverse and speedily retreating.

Matthew watched as these… fiends pulled out of the crash site before turning to the street behind him. The area was deserted, an unusual sight in hell. The demons in the area recognized Matthew as a threat on par with a raging Overlord and acted accordingly, by running for their damned lives.

Matthew took a deep inhale, taking in the new hellish air. He was unsure of what he was just attacked by. A heavy exhale blared from his helmet filters, Matt hung his head back and cracked his neck,

"Another f*cking sh*thole."

Chapter 5: Tighten Up

Chapter Text

Pride Ring, Imp City

Matt stalked the edge's of the city, observing the actions of these…vermin. These things came in all shapes and sizes, from slender reds, to lustful pinks, and amalgamation of animals. Wolves, sharks, cats, and plenty of other demons were present with definable animal traits. However the Headhunter was unbothered.

These beings were relatively easy to slay, applied force still broke bones and projectiles still pierced their soft tissue. They were weak when compared to the Covenant. At least the Unggoy had a hard exoskeleton, it actually made them hard to kill if you were a sloppy shot.

Matt watched in the safety of shadows as these demons f*cked, killed, and robbed out in broad daylight. Nevertheless, there still seemed to be an order to this sh*thole. While this place was trashed, most refrained from killing without reason. Most of the killings he witnessed were caused by the stupidity of one, only for another to cut him down.

That was when he realized something strange. Some of these demons regenerated, albeit slowly. He noticed spread body parts wiggling across the pavement, over the hours they would compile in a lump of flesh. Matt stayed sitting atop a rooftop, using the enhanced zoom feature of his helmet to observe the phenomenon.

After a few hours Matt was bored, but he was curious how long the process would take. The body of a crocodile-like sinner was halfway completed, so he decided to experiment.

Matthew flung himself over the rooftop and began a freefall. He landed with a quake, the bracers in his boots absorbing the shock. Many nearby Hellspawn and Sinners spared a questioning towards him, but the rifle on his back persuaded them from approaching. He continued towards the blob of flesh, it was a mixture of rrd blood, green scales, and torn clothing. He could see eyeballs, but they were dull and distorted.

Matt reached out an open palm and grabbed a couple of undamaged fingers. He crushed them in his grip. He observed the creature's reaction.

The regenerating mess of meat didn't react, it stopped the process of rejuvenation for just a moment before continuing. Matt concluded his analysis.

These Sinners don't feel anything during their regeneration, they are probably just knocked out or mentally suspended in stasis until they reform.

Matt frowned underneath his helmet, these guys are currently unkillable. He shook the blood off his hand and stood, a few bystanders watched his experiment, disgust colored their faces. Although, the moment his visor glanced in their direction they quickly became disinterested. Matthew chuckled, it seemed common human tendencies were still present in these things. That wasn't a hard conclusion, considering many of these beings used to be human in the first place, he imagined that the Hellborn probably took after the traits and tendencies that Sinners brought when they fell from grace.

Now though, he was bored, hungry, and without currency. But in Hell, who cared if another soul stole some grub. He started down the streets of Hell, hoping to find a good hole-in-the-wall joint. Most denizens of Hell made way for him, his armor and weapons clearly defined him as a threat, for that he was thankful.

Nevertheless, there were always the ignorant and lesser intelligent individuals. A gang of shark-like demons brushed past him, shoulder checking him. They scoffed in fake anger,

"Watch where you're going asshole!"

Matt continued to walk, disinterested in these lesser foes, they would be a waste of ammunition. They approached him rapidly, upset he didn't retaliate immediately.

"Hey, I was talkin' to you!"

The lead gangb*nger attempted to grab his shoulder, only for a hand to intercept. Before the demon could react, the Headhunter had spun on his heels and attacked. Grabbing and crushing his wrist, before punching a hole into the demon's side. Shocked and pain filled the demon's face as blood exploded from the open wound. Matthew pulled out the demon's guts and intestines as the demon screamed in pain and terror. He ripped them from their owner and shoved the intestines into his open maw and slammed his jaw shut. A swift kick laid the demon on his ass. The demon began to bleed out from its wound, blood seeped from its maw as he tried to spit out his own intestines.

His buddies watched in horror as the olive Spartan rushed them, struggling to pull out their sidearms.

He went low and uppercuts the first demon, dislocating the jaw and lifting him off his feet. The second shark pulls out a Beretta, shoving the pistol in Matt's face, his shields eating the bullets as he dove into the demon. Matthew tackles the shark's midsection, carrying him to the concrete. Haymakers follow before the demon's skull caves in, caking Matt's torso and arms in red blood. Matthew scrambles to his feet and pouches on the dazed demon from before.

He would have prefered to break its neck, but it didn't have one so he settled for the next best thing. Matthew placed a boot on its chest, and grabbed its arms. With a long squelch and mortifying scream, both appendages were torn from their owner. He tossed the useless limbs aside, letting the demon bleed out on the sidewalk.

The incident was over as quickly as it started, but it definitely drew attention to the Spartan.

Matthew was about to leave, when he noticed an object on the floor. It was a wallet, dark leather made up its composition, a little blood decorated the edges. He crouched and picked it up, opening it to reveal the face of the shark he had just dismembered. He removed the currency from the wallet and inspected it, grinning before stuffing it in a pouch on his chest rig. Matthew patted the pouch and started to walk off.

"Hope this pays for dinner."

Matthew continued his pathing down the streets of Pride, still getting odd looks and wary stares. However he was soon stopped by a crowd on the sidewalk, multiple people were leering into an electronic appliance shop, and a few had their phones out. Matt decided to check what was causing the fuzz.

Multiple TV's were on display inside the shop, many were busy broadcasting different news stations. However, 666 News was clearly favored as it was running on the most screens, what concerned him was the fact that he was displayed on the screen. Multiple angles and videos of his 'debut' were playing, along with his altercation with the shark demons from earlier. Reporters were talking over each other and debating, trying to dig into who Matthew really was.

Two news anchors from 666 News were covering his fights, one wearing a gas mask and the other wore a red dress. They were droning on about his fights, overinflating them for entertainment purposes. He blocked it out mentally, and focused on another voice instead. One of the demons in the crowd spoke his mind.

"I bet he's just some wailing bitch without that armor, only f*cking puss*'s hide behind a mask."

The demon was of tall stature, a lanky imp with no special features adorning his body. He continued to make remarks at his expense, getting a few of his buddies to join in. The TV's played the scramble with the sharks, showing the scene where he dismembered the last one. The imp laughed,

"That suit gives him a power boost for sure, ain't no way he's that strong on his own!"

That comment rubbed Matt the wrong way. This Imp was implying that his accomplishments were due to his SPI armor, and not his own skill. His hands twitched as he moved to intercept, slowly pushing the way deeper in the crowd. The mob slowly noticed who was among them and backed up accordingly, gasps of fear and shock started to escape them as they whispered to each other. The imp continued,

"He's gotta be a machine, I mean, look at his helmet! It doesn't look like he has horns or ears or even a tail." He laughed again, "I'll bet money that he's a bot that some Sinner let loose."

G-086 stood behind the Imp, his shadow draping over it like a dark blanket. The murmurs from the crowd were getting louder as they worried for the life of the Imp, the crowd had backed away from the Imp, leaving him and the Spartan in a circle. Some demons grabbed their phones, eager to see some action. They wouldn't be disappointed.

The Imp noticed the look of the crowd and turned accordingly, he did not expect the hulking mass of murder behind him. His jaw slacked as he fell on his ass, staring straight into the unblinking visor that adorned Matt's face. The Headhunter stood unwavering and activated his external speakers,

"Say it again."

The imp shivered, his red skin sweltering as sweat brewed. If he fessed up to his face and admitted defeat, Matt would leave him be. He croaked out,

"W-w-what are you talking about?"

The Spartan didn't move a muscle, eyeing his prey down, gauging a reaction. He moved to persuade the vermin, crouching down and reaching with his left hand, putting a vice grip on the imp's shoulder.

"Again. Say it to my face. I'm right here."

The imp wheezed and stammered out in pain as the grip of his captor tightened, expecting an answer. Nothing came. A pity, no answer is a wrong answer. Matthew decided to treat the small creature like an Unggoy and reprimanded him. He grabbed a hold of the demon's horns with both hands before tearing them off with ease, the crowd exclaimed in shock as the imp hissed and wailed in pain.

Horns were a physical show of power, the bigger the better. To remove a man's horns was almost on par with removing a man's balls, he would be publicly shamed. He held the bloody horns in both hands up to the demon's teary eyes, and crushed them in his grip. Dust fell from open palms as the marksman stood, the vermin had learned. The Headhunter removed himself from the scene, leaving behind a hornless imp, a crowd full of witnesses, and his give-a-sh*t factor.

Matt made his way further down the road, apparently leaving Imp City. He was currently unaware of where he was but he could care less, the more he walked the more his TACMAP cataloged the area. He briskly marched along the pavement, by now he was a somewhat known figure. Sinners talked in murmurs and Hellborn snapped photos, he wondered why they were so engrossed in him. He ignored the attention. He figured that was how his Spartan-II predecessors handled the media.

Eventually he saw a promising sight, a restaurant named Devils Diner.

"How original…"

Matt scoffed at the title. Was it a requirement to name every commodity after Hell? He was getting sick of seeing the trend.

On the bright side the diner looked well kept, clean, and the few patrons eating outside had promising meals before them. G-087 made his way towards the restaurant and opened the fragile glass door. It held a simple design of reds and blacks, easy on the eyes for patrons–but Matt didn't care for aesthetics. The lighting was ill red, giving the place a romantic air. He noticed booths with curtains in the corner of the building. Matt was unfamiliar with eating in a restaurant, but he remembered a similar situation on his last birthday with his previous family–before he was orphaned.

Matt observed a group of imp's being led to a table by their host, laughing at a joke as they sat down. G-087 stood motionless by the door, waiting to be approached. Eventually he was.

A succubus with red skin approached, draped in a plain white blouse with black slacks and matching shoes. A nameplate on her ample chest read as 'Ori.' A friendly smile adorned her face, she asked

"Table for one?"

Matthew turned to her, giving her his full attention. The smile on her face unnerved him, yet he continued.

"Booth."

His hostess nodded before waving an outstretched arm, he noticed burn scars on her wrist.

"Right this way sir!"

She led him to the corner of the diner, he gathered the looks of anyone he walked past. He hated the attention. Matthew felt exposed, there could be an enemy anywhere, he must be ready. Matthew was gracious when Ori led him to his booth, he could pull the curtains on the side to conceal himself. Ori let himself sit down, she noticed more customers entering the diner. She spoke in a kind manner,

"I'll be back in just a moment, anything to drink while I'm out?"

"Water."

Ori looked suprised, maybe most don't order such a bland drink. He assumed most of the assholes down here get drunk out of their minds whenever they get the chance, once again he was an outlier. She nodded anyways, grinning as she started to walk off.

"Okay! I'll be right back."

Matthew said nothing as she retreated, instead looking towards the menu. Trying to peel the pages was a challenge in armor, but he made due. He scanned the options and they looked pleasing, but Matt cared more for the calorie count than aesthetics. He eyed the big ticket items, probably made to feed the larger demons he had seen roaming the underworld.

Ori had returned, this time with a glass of water notepad in hand. Normally a waiter would take your order, but they were understaffed and she was working two jobs. She placed the glass down before him and asked,

"Are you ready?"

Matthew tilted his helmet in her direction, looking up as he placed his menu aside. He laid his hands to rest on the wooden table.

"Yes, can I get two Satanic Burgers along with Overloaded Fries?"

Ori's eyes once again dilated in surprise, she jotted down the order. This was a meal large enough to fill the natives of Gluttony.

"Of course, will that be all?"

Matthew nodded as Ori left, giving the Headhunter time to think. He stares dead ahead into the empty seat before him. He realized again that his partner was probably dead, lost to time in a slipspace rupture. Dejectedly, he wondered about solemn topics.

'How am I getting out of here?'

'How is the War going?'

'What happened to Jaxson?'

'How painful was his death?'

'What am I even going to f*cking do?!'

Matthew pondered in dispar. His mission, his creed, and his past were irrelevant here. He is an enhanced super soldier designed to fight until his dying breath, and here he was sitting in a restaurant in the damn underworld! He was trapped with the worst humanity had to offer and he was already getting tired of this sh*thole.

So there Matt sat, staring blankly ahead while dark thoughts brewed in his mind. G-087 morbidly forecased his future, somewhat aware of the future difficulties he would face. Time passed for 15 minutes as he dwelled in his mind. Thankfully, his train of thought ground to a halt as Ori approached the booth. She handed off his food and he nodded to her, a gesture of appreciation. She smiled once more as she returned back to the front in order to host more guests.

Matt stared at his food, his stomach crying in glee at the sight of it. He turned and closed the curtains to the booth, cutting himself off from the outside. After concealing himself, Matthew raised his hands to his head and released the seal on his helmet. He removed the Recon helmet, placing it beside his meal. He gladly dug into the first burger, it was almost as big as his head. The taste exploded on his tongue, it was better than any ration he had been saving till now.

Like most Spartans, Matt was extremely pale. This was due to him pretty much living in his armor, taking it off for repairs and maintenance. Dirty blonde hair adorned his head and white burn scars were seen on the left side of his lower jaw, kudos to a grunt with a plasma pistol nicking him when his shields were depleted. His eyes were muted brown, little emotion was on display. He had a slight scruff as it was difficult to shave when deployed.

He had little care for table etiquette, tearing into his meal fit for a being twice his size and weight. The fries he ordered were drenched in melted cheese and various meats. The burgers were packed with grease and protein, and he washed everything down with water. Before he had realized, he had eaten his whole meal. He wiped his face and closed his eyes.

Matt inhaled deeply, slowly breathing in and out in a rhythm. He began to organize his chaotic thoughts, meditating for a bit to destress. He began to block out the negativity clouding his thought process and began to rationalize.

He was alone – without Jax on the assault he would have to be increasingly aggressive, quicker with his target acquisition, and react faster.

He had limited ammunition – he was unlikely to restock on UNSC supplied ammo anytime soon, he would have to utilize locally sourced weaponry.

That would require an income – he needed to find something compatible with his skillset.

What was his goal?

Matt stopped his line of thought at this question. What is he even working for? Living for? He placed his head in his hands and began to contemplate further.

There was no Covenant here, no humans, no friendly faces. There was NOTHING here for him. He looked up, eyes peering through his hands.

A sigh escaped his throat, his eyes looked distant. He heard the shuffling of feet approaching his booth.

Matt placed his helmet on his head just as Ori slipped through the curtain, checking on him.

The waitress/hostess peeked inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the newcomer's face. She was disappointed as his gold visor stared back unflinchingly. She took note of his lack of food, surprised by how quickly he had consumed it. She made no comment about it, but she did ask,

"Can I get you the check?"

"Yes."

Ori nodded and disappeared behind the curtains once more. Matt waited patiently as she returned, placing the check on the table in front of him. She smiled before speaking,

"Here you go!"

Her smile still unnerved him, but it was nice to see that some people here weren't all assholes. Maybe he was wrong after all.

Matt pulled out all the money he 'received' from the shark demons and placed it down on the check. Ori glanced at the money quizzically. She noticed a nice surplus in the wad of cash, Matt just gave her the biggest tip she had ever seen. She looked up at him in disbelief, a real smile showed on her face. More pearly whites appeared on Ori's face as genuine glee colored her features. She offered a quick thank you before retreating back to the front.

Matthew watched her go, intrigued by her reaction. A strange feeling bubbled in his chest, it was happiness. Endorphins flooded his brain as he realized he probably made her day. It was a feeling he wasn't used to.

Making people happy was a strange thing to witness. Most of the people he saw held the same facial features, hatred and sorrow. These reactions were often geared towards the Covenant.

Seeing someone genuinely happy was a sight to behold, and Matt made note of it. He cracked a slight grin as he stood from his booth and made his way to the door.

Today was a good day.

Pride Ring, Imp City, I.M.P. Headquarters

4 Hours Later

Today was a sh*t day.

Bliztø's client list had long since run dry, he was lacking customer's – meaning income was running dry. He hung his head back in annoyance as another client canceled on him.

"f*ckkkk!"

Mille and Moxxie were cuddling on the sofa when they heard his cry. Moxxie looked towards the door apathetically, whatever he was stressed about is not worth his time.

Lonna droned on her desk, phone in one hand and bottle in the other. She was scrolling aimlessly through Sinstagram, the common boring topics were quickly filtered out.

Eventually she noticed a new hot topic. A man clad in green was being sighted around Pentagram and Imp City. He was labeled as highly dangerous and many subscribed to the idea that he was a new Overlord. Loona was inclined to believe them, the full body suit and heavy weaponry he was toting was no joke. She leaned back further in her office chair as she put the thought in the back of her mind as she continued to browse the internet aimlessly.

Eventually Bliztø kicked open his office door, the room rumbled as the door cracked. A shoutfest about 'sh*tty clients' was brewing between Bliztø and Moxxie. Loona kicked her legs up on the receptionist desk, rolling her eyes at their antics. She blocked out the conversation, it wasn't worth the loss of brain cells.

Returning her attention to her phone, she refreshed the Sinstagram page. The Hellhound read the newest headlines and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. She dropped her phone as she ran to the nearest window in the main office. Bliztø and Moxxie continued their rant together, but Mille took interest in Loona's reaction. She followed the Hellhound.

Loona's phone rested face up on her desk. Sinstagram was open, along with the 'breaking news' and a casualty report.

"The New Face in Hell."

"Armored Killing Machine!!!"

"Skirmish Left Hundreds Dead!"

"Our Newest Overlord?"

Pride Ring, Outside Devils Diner

3 Hours Prior

Matthew left the premises of the diner, increased morale and a stomach full of warm food. For the first time in a while he felt refreshed, like a month long nap in cryo sleep. Matt ensured he was ready as he made his way down the streets of Hell once more, continuing to mentally map this place as he walked.

He had to admit, there was a strange, morbid charge to this sh*thole. The constant flashing lights and bustling activity made Hell seem less like a realm of active chaos and more like a continuation of life in the overworld. As he looked into the activities of these demons and sinners he noticed just how human they actually were. There were still parties, muggings, prostitutes, a currency system, a mafia and so forth. So many of the qualities of this Hell were present or were at some point present in his universe.

Matt never felt guilty for killing his fellow man, he certainly didn't feel an ounce of remorse for slaying these creatures. They may act human, but if they deserved his wrath he would enforce it swiftly without prejudice.

However they weren't that bad, some of the encounters he had so far were adequate. Ori functioned and acted just like he remembered a normal human may have, the only difference being her difference in species. He would still feel unnerved by these hellish beings, but was willing to give them a chance if they were deserving.

Matthew continued to walk. He strode past many stores and restaurants, witnessed crimes in action, and unsightly scenes which left him puzzled. Just a normal daily occurrence in this sleazefest.

He resumed strolling down the road when he noticed something out of place. There was an abnormal amount of shark demons in the area. There were always a few sharks, but generally so far he had mostly encountered Imps and Sinners, while the occasional Succubus and Incubus. Matt acted unaware of his situation, keeping his face planted forward and his eyes on his motion tracker. He was being followed. He sighed in his helmet, steeling himself for a fight. He turned around and faced the opposition. The gang of demons behind him held hatred in their eyes, the ringleader of the bunch wordlessly drew a handgun, he figured he wouldn't be able to talk his way out.

Matthew wasn't much of the talking type anyway.

The moment the gun was brandished he moved. In a flash, the Magnum magnetically clamped to his thigh was sighted towards the leader's head, which he would soon lose.

The scream of .50 caliber pierced the demon's ears as the lead shark received a lead lobotomy. The shock present on his comrades was apparent, but that quickly fused into anger. He was soon looking down the barrels of at least 20 armed combatants. He silently cursed as his calculating brown eyes landed on the closest piece of hard cover.

With his offhand, he lobbed a flashbang as he dove for the nearest alley way, his personal shields taking major damage as kinetic slugs punched the exterior of his armor, stressing it to the limit.

Matt's helmet polarized as the flash grenade went off. He drew his battle rifle and flicked the select fire to semi. 9.5x40mm AP rounds cut into the gang members. They fired wildly and cried out in pain as they were disoriented visually and audibly. Precision shooting netted Matt seven eliminations before the gangb*ngers somewhat recovered and returned accurate fire.

Matthew ducked back behind the brick wall he was using as hard cover. He activated his cloak at the cost of his shield regeneration, a decision he would probably regret. The shooting slowed as the gangsters approached, leaving G-087 an opportunity to slip past the engaging force. As the shark demons turned the corner to the empty alleyway, a smaller shark demon spoke up.

"Where did the bastard go?"

They were staring at an empty alley with no escape route, suddenly an object rolled between one of their legs. The gang member could only stare in horror as he tried to scream.

"GRENA–"

The fragmentation grenade blew him aparts, frag filled sushi splatted the floor and walls. Red blood dripped and flowed as the survivors coughed, moaning in pain.

Matt uncloaked, drawing his handgun as he cut down the surviving defenseless hellspawn. He double tapped the demons caught in the blast. G-087 approached the last survivor, a lanky shark demon. Green ringed eyes and scars along his gills, along with blood pooling under him as he laid face up. Coughing in pain, the demon tried to escape, but he was limited due to his sharpnel filling stomach, Matthew approached before slamming his boot into the demon's femur. The snapping of the limb was downright disgusting, it was accompanied by the expected howling in pain.

Still keeping his foot planted on the demon's leg, Matt squatted down before the shark, shoving the heated barrel of his pistol into the demon's cheek. Tears were flushing out of the demon's eyes, some of the tears evaporated when they contacted the hot metal pushed against his face.

"Talk." Matthew commanded.

The demon, an injured mess, quickly gave in. He stuttered out his confessions in terror.

"W-w-we were sent a-after you! You killed Morrison! We just w-w-wanted payback."

Morrison was probably one of the shark demons he had killed prior, he really didn't care to remember names though.

"Who sent you?" The response came hastily.

"It was Dylin! Garrus Dylin! My boss! Please, I told you now let me g—"

The gold visor of his assassinator was apathetic, merciless, and uncaring. The blabbering demon was silenced, a single casing ejected from his handgun as the body went limp. Matthew wasn't one to wait, and more importantly, he was bored. He now finally had an actual objective and he was eager to complete it.

His boots were caked in blood as he exited the alley, the corpses of 20 men with their body parts, fluids and mass littered the area. The media was quick to inform the public of massacre that occurred, and the genocide that was to soon follow. A shadowy form spectated the whole ordeal, his smile almost glistening in the dark.

The figure found this individual to be very intriguing.

Chapter 6: Easy Sledding

Chapter Text

Ring of Wrath

Jaxson stalked towards the center of Wrath, the countryside eventually becoming a city. He walked with a purpose, shotgun magnetically clamped to his back and his SMG and sidearm stuck to his thighs. The faded reds, greens and blues of Covenant blood covered his wolf gray armor. He easily pushed his way through crowds of Imps and other minor Hellspawn. He had most of them beat vertically and horizontally, he was pretty easy to pick out in the mass of demonic entities.

Jax ditched his ride a while ago. The Warthog brought along too much attention, especially with its mounted chain gun. Not to mention that he didn't have a way to refuel it. He left it with Joe as a gift for his kindness. The man had given him a pleasant place to stay for three days, but Jaxson hated sitting on his ass. He felt the need to move and Cobaltis suggested their advancement to the Ring of Pride, where his range of influence would be increased. Jaxson spoke up for the first time in four hours.

"How you doin' buddy? You've been pretty f*ckin' quiet." His speakers were disabled, hiding his conversation from the surrounding Hellspawn.

Cobaltis chirped, "The silence was pleasant… anyway! I've been looking around the various systems this rotting pit has to offer and it's honestly sad." Cobaltis paused before continuing. "These…Demons have advanced poorly technologically, this area reports tech at the level of Earth in the early 20th century. Thankfully the Pride Ring boasts higher competency in their scientific knowledge."

Jax sighed as he walked, inching closer to the marker placed on his HUD. "You keep mentioning Pride, but am I really going to be able to walk to a whole new Ring no problem?"

Cobaltis rendered a synthetic laugh through his helmet's speakers, sending chills throughout Jax's skin. "No, that would take too long. Most of the locals use an elevator system to pass between rings. Apparently it's possible to traverse the Rings via ground and aerial vehicles… however that works, Hell magic I presume."

Jaxson shrugged to himself, the exact facts eluded him. He glanced up, 200m away from his destination. The city was getting increasingly busy and cramped, nothing his frame or a bad look couldn't help. His stature persuaded most to keep their heads down.

He rounded a corner and walked towards a grand building. Various golds, crimsons and other precious metals were present in its design. A large luminous sign read 'Elevator 666' and he scoffed in irritation, how original. There were two sections in the front of the building, one line processing Hellspawn entering the elevator while the other let them off the elevator. He eyed the sight in annoyance. He huffed, striding past the line without a care in the world, murmurs of annoyance set in behind his back as the waiting Hellspawn voiced their opinions.

He was about to enter the building when some sort of official stepped in front of him. It was a pretty tall Imp, standard red skin with medium length horns, he wore an expensive two piece suit along with a gun visible on his waist. Jaxson did him the favor of not trampling him. The Imp rolled his eyes towards the Headhunter.

"I know Hell doesn't have the smartest residents but you must have seen the line." He gestured to the line of Hellspawn behind him.

Jax sighed deeply before activating his external speakers. "Move."

He Imp looked irritated, his yellow eyes scrunching in bewilderment. "Are you stupid? Who do you think you are? Prancing around in your armor all high and mighty!"

Insults and other words belittling him were slung his way. He felt his breath hitch as this piece of sh*t blocked his way. His hands balled in exasperation. He felt his chemical augmentations urging him to move, to act.

Jaxson tuned out the curses and erratic hand gestures. He logistically asked himself,

Why haven't I slaughtered this prick yet?

It's not like he's human, right?

All reasonable thought dispersed when Imp got into his face. Artificial anger surged through him.

"You can't be this f*ckin' retarded! Wait your f*ckin' tur-!"

The Imp was interrupted by a left hook, socking him across the face. He stumbled onto his ass, looking up in a mixture of pain and anger. The right half of the Imps face was already swelling, he cupped his face with one hand.

"Mother fu– Now you've done it assho-!"

The Imp rocket to his feet, reaching for his pistol. He never got the chance. The distance was closed immediately, Jax closed his armored fingers over the demon's wrist, turning its hand into a mangled mess as the handgun discharged. He didn't even get a chance to scream before his other hand closed around his throat, choking the life out of him. The Headhunter smiled as he brought the entity up to his visor. The Imp in his grasp was weezing, his teeth bloodied along with his nose.

Jax let go of the Imp's wrist, the gun falling to the ground. He reached behind the demon with his free hand and placed an iron grip around his horn instead. In a swift motion he yanked it hard.

The line of Hellspawn behind him exclaimed in disgust as a loud snap was heard. The Imp stopped struggling. He dropped the demon without a care, its neck bent at an unnatural 90 degree angle. Jaxson continued his pathing, walking over the corpse and into the elevator. Cobaltis spoke up,

"No attempt at diplomacy? Have you taken your smoothers recently?"

Jax's body tensed up, he growled at the mention of them, "I just hate those damn needles."

"When was the last time you've been restocked? My access is mostly blocked, but Miso Olanzapin and bipolar integration drugs are mentioned in Project CHRYSANTHEMUM." Cobaltis's tone was surprisingly concerned for an AI. Jaxson felt his face scrunch up at the mention of the drugs, he snarled.

"I'm fine." His voice had a bite to it. Jax's hands balled up, his posture tensed up. His hostile body language was visible even through his armor, the remaining Hellspawn in his way parted for him. It was strange, he felt oddly vulnerable.

Cobaltis hummed at his response, deciding best to leave him be. Jaxson strode into the hub area of the elevator, lavish seats and colorful gemstones filled the area. An feminine voice spoke overhead,

"Departing for Greed in 5 minutes."

A large screen with various colors signaled what ring the elevator would head to next. Pride was red, Wrath was orange, Gluttony was yellow, Greed was green, Lust was Blue, Envy was Purple, and Sloth was Pink.

"f*ck…"

He leaned against a pillar in wait for his turn, many of the demons from the line outside made their way inside the hub, giving him stares and bad looks. He folded his arms and glared back, challenging them to do something about it. His hands were spasming, twitching with anticipation. His muscle memory implored him to react, he looked at the nearest demons. It was a group of 3 Imps and some sort of werewolf. Their inhuman form made him uncomfortable, his instincts wanted them eliminated. A scowl was present behind his visor as he continued to monitor the room for threats. Why did he feel so exposed?

He had to wait about 10 minutes before the voice spoke again,

"Departing for Pride in 5 minutes."

Jax huffed and pushed off the wall and headed into the elevator. He quickly noted the vast space inside. There were rows of gold seats and a giant red pentagram engraved into the floor. He found the closest seat and crashed into it, he felt his feet tapping in boredom. The Imp from before didn't scratch his itch, he hadn't killed anything notable recently. All he had done for the past three days was walk, farmwork, and wring the neck of a single imp. His body was jittery, ready to do something, it was his purpose for living. If he wasn't killing Covenant he was frozen in cryo sleep on his way to the next firefight. Going this long without slaughtering something felt unnatural, against the code that had been drilled into him at a young age.

He was to advance forever, day and night. Until his objective was completed, or when death finally relives him.

The elevator started to shift, the overhead voice started to announce something again but all he could hear was his own heartbeat and the droning conversations surrounding him. He felt his skin crawl as he watched them interact. Why was he conflicted? He didn't have this problem with Joe and his family.

Mentally, Jax could give less of a sh*t about the demonic entities around him, but his body reacted differently. He felt the need to kill something. He clenched his fists and stood, walking to the furthest corner possible from the other residents of the Elevator. His thoughts were scrambled,

It's itching again…

He felt the urge to puke, the disgust lolling on his tongue. Jax's eyesight narrowed, his peripheral vision blurred. A warmth started to envelop his head, towards the front of his brain. This warmth slowly burned hotter. His face strained uncomfortably under his golden mask.

f*ck... I hate doing this...

The Spartan removed a canister from one of his various pouches. It was an auto-injector. G-061 placed the needle over an exposed part of armor, the undersuit. The undersuit had multiple ports for injecting biofoam or in his case, smoothers. Smoothers were a mixture of Miso Olanzapine and Cyclodexione and they countered the harmful effects of Gamma Company's main chemical augmentations. 009762-00, a cariogenic mutagen that alters key regions in the individual's frontal lobe to enhance aggressive response, making the animal part of the brain more accessible in times of stress. This allows Jaxson access to enormous reserves of strength and endurance and enables them to remain fighting even under the influence of a wide systemic shock that would be instantly fatal to a normal human. These drug mixtures must be taken periodically or he will begin to lose higher brain functioning. Jax would become increasingly aggressive and reckless in combate, most likely resulting in his death.

G-061's breath seethed as he impaled himself. He didn't feel the pain of the needle, but the sight of it unnerved him. He found it strange. Jax was a Headhunter, the atrocities he commits are many times worse and gory than a puncture wound. He chuckled, Dad did always call him a bitch, what a memory.

He was starting to envy his former partner. Matthew was able to get subcutaneous inserts, or implants that would periodically release doses on the counter drug. He requisitioned them after a long mission when their supply of smoothers ran dangerously low. Jax denied the surgery due to his paranoia surrounding the new technology. He regrets his decision.

Cobaltis observed the injection process, curious of the time it takes for the counter drug to kick in.

Ding

The Elevator finally reached Pride. Jaxson left before the announcement could announce their stop. He pushed and shoved his way past everything in his way without care. The exit was within sight, freedom from that pit .

"You in the armor! Stop!"

A voice called from behindhim, another security officer. He was dressed exactly like the last one. Jax was too preoccupied on his charge towards the exit to care. The suffocating feeling in his chest was more than a minor annoyance by this point.

Elevator 666, 5 minutes prior.

Doby leaned against his seat, engrossed in his Hellphone. He was tapping away as he heard the Elevator's PA pipe up,

"Departing for Pride in 5 minutes."

Doby glanced up at the crowd now entering the Elevator. He hadn't even noticed they hit a new Ring. He glances of the terminal overhead, he was in Wrath, soon to be Pride. He hummed to himself and fixed his appearance using his phone's camera.

He was an Incubus security officer employed by the local Ars Goetia. His job was mundane but paid somewhat well. He affixed his black hair, cringing at the white scar raked on his cheek, it contrasted his purple skin.

Doby yawned, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. He stretched lazily in his chair as he scanned the Elevator's newest residents.

Nothing new, just a bunch of standard, dirty ass demons.

He was about to return to the addictive screen of his phone when a glimpse of gold in his peripheral caught his eye.

What the Hell?

In the corner of the lounge, an armored figure was standing alone. It had a gold bulbous faceplate and was covered in a mix of gray and black. There were a few things that stood out about this individual.

Obviously their armor was hella expensive, meaning the figure was most definitely not suffering financially. This was reinforced by the shotgun on his back and the firearms attached to his thighs. Second was the fact that he was covered in strange colors. The soldier had faded splashes of red, purple and blue encapsulating his suit, mostly around his hands and feet. The last part, and the most concerning, was the twitching. The f*cker was jittery. Their hands tapped frantically and he could see their limbs jerking every once in a while.

The craziest part was when the soldier pulled a needle out of his pouch. It looked like he was shooting up something.

"What a freak…" he mumbled to himself. He returned his gaze to his phone since the strange individual wasn't causing a problem. The rest of the ride to Pride was uneventful, as per usual. His eyes drooped as he drifted. He felt his phone vibrate as he started to sleep.

Doby felt sleep nearly take him before an overbearing voice overhead alerted him.

"Arriving in Pride."

His half awake form jostled up. Doby groaned annoyedly, mumbling, "Stupid, loud ass bitch…"

The Incubus reached for his phone as people began to exit the elevator. His face twisted curiously when he had multiple notifications. He pressed on some new messages he received from his co-worker Sadie. His eyes widened at the text.

Sadie: Doby, some f*cker just killed Murray in Pride!

Sadie: It was an armored douche

Sadie: The asshole is in there with you!

Sadie: Response!

Sadie: Mother f*cker pick your damn phone up! You better not be sleeping or I swear I'll pick your bones dry after corporate eats your ass!

Doby jolted from his seat, he stashed his phone into his pocket and followed the crowd of people exiting the Elevator. Sweat started to bead on his brow as he pushed past fellow demons, receiving insults and ill mannered complaints as consequence.

"Where did this asshat f*ckin' go?" He wheezed.

He grinned as he made out a golden object in the sea of red surrounding him. Doby bolted for his target. He shouted over the crowd of demons.

"You in the armor! Stop!" The officer closed the distance, attempting to get the soldier to halt.

"Hey! I just need to ask you some questions about an incident in Wrath!" Doby readied his handgun on his waistband, it was concealed from the soldier's view due to the amount of fiends blocking the way.

As Doby inched closer he realized what a bear of a man the guy in front of him was. He certainly wasn't the tallest but he certainly would hold his own, he began to worry the walking armory might not even need his weapons to beat him. Regardless, he continued, plastering a fake smile and waving while approaching.

He was about to intercept when the Headhunter spun and immediately closed the distance. Before another word was uttered the Spartan's palm made contact with Doby's skull, pulling him towards the soldier and controlling his momentum. He tripped the Hellspawn, the Incubus fell flat on his face, knocking the wind out of him. A heavy metal boot was placed atop of Doby's back, pinning him down under the man's weight.

Doby was about to complain when he felt a cold shaft being shoved into the back of his head. It was a barrel. Doby whimpered at the touch, he felt the pressure on his spine increase until a voice broke the silence.

"Try to be civil this time 061." A synthetic voice was talking. What the f*ck was 061?

The armored figure stood there for a few quiet seconds. The only sound came from the officer's quick, panicked breaths. The Headhunter contemplated the situation. This Incubus wasn't a pain in the ass compared to the previous officer. The Spartan fought against the urge to plaster this demon's brain matter on the floor. The standoff became more and more apparent to the Elevator's residents every second. The Spartan huffed,

He pushed off the demon, leaving a bootprint imprinted into the back of his shirt. He pushed out of the Elevator's lobby and onto the street. Doby sat up in pain and rubbed his skull, mumbling "What's his problem?" under his breath.

The Spartan entered the street in hope of this burrowing feeling removing itself. It didn't.

His eyes twitched and his hands unfurled and balled up in a constant ritual. This f*cking itch was still present. His skin felt strangely uncomfortable as his eyes searched for something. He was walking down the street, absent from a logical course of action. He strode for minutes, his eyes planted forward as he forced his body to comply. He could hear Cobalt in the echo of his mind but he was blocked out, muffled by his brain. He hated what he saw.

These things were vile .

He witnessed acts of murder, sexual depravity, and mindless degeneracy. Everything made his skin crawl. But in this sh*thole, he found humanity.

These demons lacked human features, but they certainly acted the part.

But are they really people?

Jax was no stranger to blood, gore and guts, but the fact that these things involved themselves in their rituals unnerved him. The area reminded him of his interactions with others as a child, obviously the amount of criminal degeneracy was cranked up here, but humanity was still apparent.

He had witnessed many new types of demons since his arrival, but he quickly discarded their features. He preferred to label them all as 'Hostile.' He felt his temper simmer, his ears rang in his head as the only noise he registered was his own heartbeat. His hands were clenched tighter and tighter by the minute. He felt sick to his core, but he was unsure if he should eradicate these f*cking things or not.

The feeling was surreal.

Jaxson was hyper aware, his brain overclocking to take in his environment. The crumbling buildings and infrastructure, the hellish sky, the swath of demons in the street giving him odd looks. He felt his face twitch and contort. His mind started to cloud.

I'm stuck here. IN f*ckING HELL.

He blindly walked forward, shoving Hell's residents without a care in the world as he aimlessly strode forward. Cobalt's words started to flood into his ears again, this time they were coherent.

"Your vitals have skyrocketed and you've been unresponsive. What's your issue?"

I'm a mass produced genocidal super soldier who is supposed to die on SUICIDE MISSIONS.

Jax huffed, "Just a conflict of thought," he paused, "I need something to relax."

The AI shed an artificial sigh, "There's a pack of idiots at 7 o' clock, stress relief?" The question went unanswered.

A group of demons were fighting in front of him, a drunken dispute. Broken beer bottles and shanks were being utilized as weapons. He approached the group of inebriated demons, his hands twitching in anticipation as his adrenals started pumping. The Spartan started to laugh as he approached. What was he stressed about again?

My only role was to buy time for humanity, for the survival of our species. This is how I'm repaid?

The Headhunter grabbed one of the drunks and spun him around. The Hellhound's hazy eyes attempted to focus on the strangely armored figure before him. The beast grumbled,

"What the fuc-"

An armored gauntlet slammed his mouth shut. The Spartan spent the next few seconds carving out the Hellhound with his combat blade.

By forcing me into this cesspool, with the worse my race had to offer.

Jax smiled as his knife pierced the lifeless body over and over. He didn't know what he was doing, he was operating on instinct by now, on what felt good.

By now, most of the drunkards had noticed the bloodied, gurgling corpse of their buddy and attempted to retaliate. They were no match for a Spartan, especially when they were drunk themselves. Every stab and jab thrown gave him ecstasy, resulting in puncture wounds and battered skin. The following slaughter was one sided. Each spill of blood, every crunch of bone, the squelching of organs, it invigorated him.

It felt right to do what he did. It was difficult to explain, but the Headhunter took pride in this physical beatdown. These beings were generally skinny, it made their limbs easy to snap, like a wishbone.

He felt better already. The Headhunter held the mangled body of an Imp, its eyes dull. Its ribcage bore cavities and its face was bruised. The Imp was dazed, probably concussed. In its dying moments it placed its bloodied hand on Jax's faceplate, leaving a crimson mark on his gold visor. He looked around him at the mess.

Blood, booze, bones and bodies littered the immediate area. He felt euphoric. This was the same dopamine rush he got when he killed Covenant. He hummed in amusem*nt,

"f*ck it, I'm in Hell." He stood straight and relaxed his shoulders, "Can't change that…" The Headhunter started to walk away. Rain started to pour on Pentagram city, partly cleansing his armor. He started to chuckle to himself, regaining his senses and acknowledging the absurdity of his situation.

"Unsupervised child soldier in Hell…" he glanced back at the bodies behind him, "Might as well have fun before I drop."

Cobaltis sighed, "This is who I'm bound to…"

Jaxson chuckled softly, "Blame ONI and the Covies. One eviscerated my family and the other pumped me full of illegal drugs."

His AI companion chirped, "You'll have to inform me of your medical and mental conditions, I have a feeling that you weren't made with longevity in mind." Cobalt was interested in Project CHRYSANTHEMUM. It was splattered heavily in black ink, and this new type of Spartan intrigued him. To the Headhunters' relief, he finally felt the effects of the smoother kick in, the throbbing itch in his mind slowly faded to a manageable level.

The Spartan hummed as he flexed his fingers, keeping his muscles ready. He continued to walk, the day was turning dusk. He thought about his past few days. Why did he feel comfortable with Joe and his family but crazed with the people here? He didn't have to think long.

As strange as it was, Joe was relatively level headed and normal. Every conversation with him and Sally felt like an interaction with an everyday person. Obviously, the order and respect in Wrath was greatly different from the sh*thole that was Pride. They were people, as far as he knew, but most of them were here for a reason. This was Hell afterall. Jax felt relief after that revelation, it was just like killing Innes, most of them deserved what was coming to them.

While G-061 contemplated his policy regarding the locals, Cobaltis was checking the area for places of interest. A few markers popped up on Jax's HUD.

"I've marked points of interest on your TACMAP, they are the various headquarters of industry and tech companies."

Jax looked at his options and calculated the distance. He piped up after he recognized a name. Various shell companies popped up, and most were owned by one leading corporation.

"You mentioned Voxtek when we were in Pride, how 'bout it?"

Cobalt chimed, "That would be our HVT in the area, Voxtek boasts great technological advances and public trust. But, they are also bound to have some of the highest security. We can't afford to go loud."

The Spartan changed his pathing, day was dulling as time progressed. An impish grin ravished his face under his visor, Jaxson raised a hand and knocked the side of his helmet.

"You're no fun COB, you sure we can't get our feet wet?"

"Negative Spartan, I'd rather we get in and out. Make it swift, and don't be quick to underestimate your foes. Otherwise yo–"

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, "I'd be dead, yeah yeah. I know Cobalt, it ain't my first rodeo." He cut off his companion. Cobalt had a bad taste in his virtual mouth regarding his host's attitude. He left it alone, as of right now, he was powerless to do anything besides spectate.

Dusk was rolling over Pentagram city. Hell's residents were getting rowdy and 'special' aspects of the night life were showing signs. The Spartan licked his lips, eager for a fight. He flexed his hands instinctively, before unfurling them again. He repeated this process as he approached his destination.

The unlikely duo approached their target, heading further into Pentagram city. The city was active despite the hour. Ahead was their destination.

"The only information I could find is this building's name and purpose. V Tower, horribly named, houses three of the local Overlords. The Three Vs; Velvette, Valentino and Vox."

The Spartan continued uncaring, he felt his blood start pumping. Anticipation made him jittery, a loppy smile endorsed his face. This was his favorite part of combat, the build up beforehand.

"These Overlords hold a high reputation in this Ring, although you don't have to eliminate them. Vox, owner of VoxTek, most likely has a large server farm we could take a dig at."

"Secondary objectives?" The Spartan reached overhead, pulling his shotgun over his shoulder.

"None currently, our primary purpose should be collecting intelligence. Stealth takes priority."

The Headhunter could see his target now. V Tower is a tall tower with pink-tinted windows surrounding each layer. The top holds a satellite dish. It is decorated with red glowing LED lights, which also surround the top layer. The symbol of the building resembles 3 Vs, referencing the group that inhabits the tower.

G-061 racked a shell, cycling his shotgun as an old shell ejected and bounced behind him. The Spartan activated his photo-reactive panels, visually dissolving into thin air. The only evidence that he existed there previously was the spent shell discarded by his gun.