User:Actene/Sandbox

Sandbox
Here I test out templates and publish small excerpts that don't have a place in an official work yet.

Excerpt 1
''This excerpt will eventually be used in an Against All Odds work. If I ever get around to writing more. And if I remember this is even here when I do.''

The Sangheili--no, the Elite, because Simon could never associate the creatures that had saved and trained him with scum like this--glared at him from across the room with that imperious contempt that its species was so good at. It paced slowly towards the ex-Spartan wearing the battered, defunct armor who had the nerve to challenge him with just a pair of energy swords. Every inch of its body was quivering with indignation. How dare this lowly human assume that it could fight with such weapons?

Simon's enemy was at least two feet taller than him, possessed far more strength, and most likely had years more training with its own energy sword. Its armor was shielded and it hadn't just fought its way through several other warriors. The odds were ridiculously stacked against him, and Simon had spent his life running like hell whenever that happened.

But this time things were different. An odd, unfamiliar sense of clarity and purpose was coursing through him now, one that would not let him retreat or back down. Just as when he'd looked upon his dead friends on the battlefield of Mamore and resolved to fight the UNSC to the bitter end, he now felt as if all of the cowardice and fear that had kept him running away all his life had been stripped away from him. It was like a crushing weight had been lifted off of his chest and now he could breath freely again.

This creature and those with it had hunted him across the galaxy, had killed the noble family that had saved him, and had butchered scores of innocents just to kill him. They had risked and lost plenty of their own to do this, to accomplish a goal that had no real value to them.

And they had tried to kill Cassandra.

Such wanton destruction could not be working towards some strategy or greater goal. It could only be called revenge.

And Simon knew plenty about revenge.

In fact, it was time to get some of his own.

He reached up and slowly removed the damaged helmet from his head. His dark hair was drenched in sweat and clung to his moist skin like vines on a tree. He allowed himself a moment to run his gauntleted hand through the hair while his prosthetic arm discarded the helmet. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

The Elite paused, as if it was surprised by his youth or his complete absence of fear--or possibly both. This wasn't how young humans normally reacted to its approach.

A sudden twinge of pain in his lungs reminded Simon that he didn't have much time left. He was out of medicine and the disease would overcome and kill him very soon. But that concern was barely registered as he took in his opponent: the stance, the way it held its energy sword, the way its eyes were shifting across all parts of his body.

The path before him was clearer than it had been in a long time; everything seemed so simple now. If the death that he'd cheated and fled from for so long was finally on him then he'd be sure to take this bastard with him. The only way to go now was forward.

He reached up and, with a single tug, tore the bandages around his head off. As the fell, he ran his prosthetic fingers across the savage scar across his forehead that he'd hidden with them. His badge of shame, the result of his cowardice, would be bared for this fight. Then, he looked up and met the Elite's flaming eyes and matched its sneer with a deep one of his own.

"Alright, you squid-headed freak," he said, unclipping the twin sword hilts from his chest piece. "You wanna talk to your gods? Let's go see 'em together. "I've got nothing better to do."

The blades activated in his hands, and he felt the jolt of their awakening course up both of his arms, organic and prosthetic alike.

The Elite's eyes widened and, in a flash, both it and Simon lunged simultaneously.

Excerpt 2
Without looking around, Simon could tell that he was alone in the cockpit once more. Zoey had gone back down to the galley, probably to grill more stories out of Dunn. He leaned back in the pilot's seat, arms folded over his armored chest. Funny, how used he was to having a layer of hardened panels between him and the rest of the galaxy. After a while, you just stopped noticing it, even if no one else ever did.

Behind his helmet's visor he closed his eyes, letting the darkness creep up as he fell into the even sharper darkness of his past. Mamore, he thought wearily. It always comes back to Mamore, doesn't it? Rat Pack and Emily and Venter were all there, waiting to help him die again, just like he'd died the day he'd been augmented and the day he'd agreed to become a Spartan in the first place.

How many times, he wondered, could he die—and yet not die? Someday the death would be final. Someday it would be all over for him...

"But not yet," he whispered. It was his eternal truth, the prayer he affirmed to a god he neither worshiped or believed in. "Not yet, not yet, not yet."

Excerpt 4 (Halo: Descent)
"Ryan's got a trace on two of them, sir," Cody said. "Humans, both of them. Either Insurrectionists or mercenaries."

"Show me," Felix said.

"One moment, sir." Cody accessed the video footage Ryan had sent him, and transmitted it to the Lieutenant Commander. The senior Spartan watched as the sniper scope tracked the two humans, but didn't fire.

One of them was a tall, muscular man with silver-grey hair, with a medium-armoured jumpsuit and a rifle strapped across his back. For a large man, he moved very easily through the forest. Felix watched as the scope turned to his companion, who was—

"That's him," he said. "The rogue Spartan."

"Affirmative, Commander," Cody said. "The muddy footprint we found matches the armour configuration."

"They're definitely mercenaries. You got an identity?"

"Negative, sir. The UNSC had a lot of Spartans on their MIA list, and that's not counting the ones ONI's covering up. We don't have access to the full records on our ships either. Looks like we're going to have to do some research when we go home."

"I think I can help you out there," Ebony said. "If SPARTAN-D1120 can go over the recording again with bio-scanners enabled, I can narrow down the list."

"Basilisk Three?" Felix said.

"Transmitting," Ryan replied. Fifteen seconds later, Ebony said, "Hmm, looks like it won't be so easy after all."

"What do you mean?" the Lieutenant Commander asked.

"That rogue is definitely a SPARTAN-III. The bio-monitors have detected massive amounts of 009762-OO in his bloodstream. It was an illegal drug added by SPARTAN-051 to all subjects of Gamma Company alone."

"And?"

"And...well, the majority of Gamma Company had been listed as MIA since 2552."

Felix thought about this for a moment. Finally, he turned on his COM again, this time accessing all Spartan channels.

"Saber and Katana Teams, do you read me?"

"Yes, sir."

"We're here, sir."

"Ash, Joey, drop whatever you're doing, and regroup at my position. I need to talk to you guys."

Excerpt 5
David Kahn prided himself on his ability to keep his cool even when someone--usually someone with a very low life expectancy--tried to provoke him, but this A.I. seemed to specialize in pissing off just about everyone she came into contact to. Even he wasn't completely immune to her unique skill.

"I thought I told you," he said, pronouncing each word slowly so that they wouldn't come through gritted teeth. "That you aren't allowed in my ship's systems. Ever."

Diana did a small twirl on the holotank as she grinned up at him. "Whoops," she said, raising her hands in an innocent shrug. "Guess I forgot about that rule. My memory files can get so messy sometimes."

Kahn couldn't help but find it disconcerting that he was being talked back to by a schoolgirl. A small, hologram of a schoolgirl to be sure, but that didn't make it any less surreal. "Did Mordred upload you?" he demanded, though he doubted that the kid would have had the nerve to defy him, even behind his back.

The A.I. waved a pale, translucent hand dismissively. "Oh, please. It's not like I need that dumbass for everything, you know."

She stared up at him expectantly for several moments, and Kahn knew exactly what she was after. And as much as he didn't want to give her any sort of satisfaction for sneaking into his ship, he couldn't just pass up an opportunity to learn about whatever flaw in his security that Diana had exploited.

He sighed and gave in. "How did you do it?" he asked wearily, wondering how Mordred managed to put up with her on a daily basis.

Diana smirked and casually smoothed the front of her skirt. "Oh, it wasn't too difficult," she said loftily. "I just piggybacked a signal off of one of the transmitters you had us set up on the perimeter and followed it back here. I've done it a million times with the dumbass, it really isn't that big of a deal."

She frowned and cocked her head, lifting a hand to gracefully part her blonde hair. "But the thing is," she said, letting out a sigh of mock regret. "With a reputation like yours, I was expecting something a little harder to crack. I've run into drug stores with better firewalls on their computers."

Kahn resisted the urge to empty a clip into the holotank, if only to shut her up for a few moments. But then she'd be jeering at him over the intercom and he'd waste time and credits installing a new one later. As things were, he'd already need to purge the Starkiller's computer as soon as possible now that this insufferable A.I. had been able to root around in it, and that alone would take several hours to complete. And right now, Kahn didn't have several hours.

He sank into the pilot's seat and opened a secure channel that he'd set up between himself and Ro'nin. The Elite took a moment to respond.

"Kahn," the mercenary's voice rumbled over the speaker. "What is it?"

"We've had contact with the UNSC. Nothing major and I'm pretty sure they didn't i.d. either of us, but I'm moving the schedule up regardless. How quickly can you and Kenpachus get us that intel on the Path Walker compound?"

"Not long," Ro'nin replied. "They think I'm still working for them and I've already got a good look around the place, so it should only take me another day to get you a more complete picture."

Kahn did the math. Another day of waiting, plus the hours it would take to plan the assault added to the time it would take to approach the compound and actually capture their target, then factoring in the time they'd spend evacuating and packing up the basecamp...

Two and a half days, give or take a few hours. And that was assuming that nothing else went wrong.

"Fine," he said into the radio. "Get me that data ASAP. And I want you and Kenpachus ready to cover our escape once we get what we came for."

"Of course," said Ro'nin. "We wouldn't be late to a fight like that for anything."

"Well, feel free to do as much damage as you like," Kahn replied, moving to cut the transmission. "Just wait till we've gotten our mark out of there. He's no good to me dead."

Diana had generated an armchair to seat her avatar in and was steepling her hands in front of her face as if she were a detective in some second-rate mystery e-novel. "You two've certainly gotten yourselves in a bit of a hole, haven't you?" she asked cheerfully. "I don't think any of us want the UNSC goons to come give us a taste of their exceptional hospitality, and now we've got to pull off an assault right under they're noses. Y'know, if Mordred had known this would happen I don't think he'd have taken the job."

Kahn snorted, half at the A.I.'s comments and half at himself for even lowering himself to conversing with her. "He'd have taken it. Four million credits is a lot of money, and he's not good at hiding the fact that he's desperate for some cash."

Excerpt 6
Emile vaulted over the shattered wall and landed square in the middle of a cluster of Grunts who had thought the cover would keep them safe. You thought wrong, dipshits.

He swung his shotgun in an arc, pumping out shell after shell and cutting the squat aliens down one after the other. The weapon's final shell turned their red-armored leader's head into a spray of blue mist, but one of the orange-armored little shits was still alive. It cowered amidst its comrades' corpses, too terrified to even run. Emile was already bursting with the sheer adrenaline-filled joy of close combat; he was an unstoppable wave, and the sight of the hated enemy helpless and alone was simply a gust of wind that brought him cresting even higher.

Flipping the shotgun around, he swung its butt with a grace that he knew very few others would ever understand. The powered joints of his beloved suit of MJOLNIR armor boosted his speed and power to a point that the Grunt couldn't have even seen its death approaching. A shudder ran down the length of the weapon as the alien's brains painted the wall it had run to for safety.

Emile nodded, surveying the dead as he dug into one of his ammunition pouches and slotted new shells into the shotgun. Part of him was aware that these were just a handful of small fry out of the millions of Covenant troops now pouring onto Yularen, that there was no real triumph in such an effortless slaughter and that plasma bolts were everywhere, searing the air around his armor and drawing him back to the larger battle. And yet another part was content to simply take a moment to appreciate his handiwork.

This made seventeen Covenant he'd rubbed out since his team began their counter-assault on the local alien vanguard. There'd be plenty more to add to the tally before this fight was done.

"Emile," Carter's voice barked over the helmet radio. "You've stopped moving. Run into trouble?"

"Just admiring the view, sir," Emile replied, sliding the last shell home. "Need me for something?"

"We're sweeping up the center," Carter replied, terse as ever. "The Marines need this place cleared so they can send in their mortar teams. Do you have a fix on my position?"

Emile turned and gazed out further into the jungle of shredded concrete and protruding beams. There was no sign of Carter's distinctive blue armor, but a strobe flashed on Emile's HUD as he passed his eyes over what might have once been a storefront before the Covenant had bombed it into next week.

"I got you, sir."

"You'll advance due east of where you are right now. I'll do the same from where I am. Jorge? You've got everything between us."

"Understood, sir," the new guy's gravelly accented voice replied. "I've got you covered."

"Think the new guy can handle it, sir?" Emile asked over Noble Team's radio channel. "Maybe you need me to pick up anything he can't nail?"

"I'll pull my weight," Jorge rumbled. "You can count on that."

"Alright, keep it civil Emile," Carter warned. "Now let's move it up. Stick to your lanes and roll up anything that gets in the way. Jun has overwatch."

Excerpt 7
“This is it, team,” Trainee Jake-G293 said, leaning look down the row. The team, his team, were all there, all four other trainees of Team Jian them strapped into their seats within the Pelican dropship’s dim troop bay. He shot them a confident smile and could only hope that none of the apprehension and exhilaration swirling around in his gut showed on his face. “Here we go.”

From the seat beside him, Trainee Mary-G130 let out an amused huff. “Thanks for the update, fearless leader. I wasn’t so sure about this back when you said the exact same thing after we boarded, but now I’m really psyched for this.”

Trainee Terrence-G150 shook his head, quiet as always but unable to hide an amused smile all the same. He leaned down and muttered something to the trainee beside him, eliciting a short bark of laughter.

“Sure you don’t want to back out, fearless leader?” Trainee Ralph-G299 said, grinning back up the row at Jake. “You know what El-Tee Ambrose said, this augmentation stuff’s dangerous. And here I thought Simon would be the one to kick it at the last minute.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about Simon,” Jake retorted. “I thought for sure you’d get cut from the program after that last round of testing. At least Simon can do math without counting on his fingers.”

This got a laugh from all of them, even from the Machete and Kopis trainees sharing the troop bay with Jian. As tense as he felt right now, Jake couldn’t help but grin along with everyone. Gamma Company, the three hundred and thirty brothers and sisters that had been his family since the war had taken his mother and father, had felt so strange these past few weeks. Back on Onyx they’d always felt right together even when the teams were pitted against each other for drills and exercises. But ever since the drill instructors and Lieutenant Ambrose had begun to make the final cuts, weeding out the last of the underperforming trainees, they’d all been on edge, terrified that they or one of their teammates would be washed out. But now that was over, and they were together again like they’d always been.

Jake cast another glance down the row to check on Jian’s final member. Trainee Simon-G294 picked up on his look immediately and gave him a thin smile, raising a languid hand in a gesture that was half wave, half salute. “Hey, fearless leader,” he said, his voice barely audible over the Pelican’s engines and the other trainees’ laughter. “You really thinking of getting out or are you just surprised to see me still here?”

“Never doubted you for a second,” Jake replied, a white lie that he knew everyone in the bay saw through. They were all surprised that Simon, sporting what were easily the worst combat scores in the company, was still here when plenty of other trainees from higher slots on the team and individual leaderboards had washed out. But the drill instructors and Lieutenant Ambrose especially all worked in mysterious ways. Machete Team, sitting across from Jian with the likes of Kodiak-G114 and Dyne-G217 in its midst, had almost drummed out entirely, yet here they were. Simon had been given to Jake along with the rest of Jian; to see all four of his friends sitting here in the Pelican meant more to him than any awards or honors Ambrose and the other instructors might have handed out.

Simon gave him another one of those smiles that teetered on the edge between amusement and outright mockery, but his eyes seemed to be looking at something else. Those faint grey pupils were fixed on a spot just past Jake’s head, their scrawny owner—many of the other trainees had taken to calling him “Runt”—looking even paler than usual. He looked as if he were being led to a firing squad instead of the last step in a journey they’d all had to struggle and fight for every step of the way.

It’s only natural, Jake told himself with a shrug. Simon was always bad at concealing his nerves. Jake wouldn’t embarrass his teammate over it here, not when plenty of other trainees—members of Jian included—never passed up a chance to have a laugh at the Runt’s expense. They were all nervous, and they had every right to be. But it was thrilling all the same.

''This is it. Today, we become Spartans.''

They’d worked, fought, and bled for it over seven years of grueling training back on Onyx. Jake still remembered their first test, a night jump from the back of a Pelican just like this one. Not all of you can be Spartans, Lieutenant Ambrose had said back then. If he’d been trying to intimidate them, it had been the wrong approach. Jake had been six years old then, alone and confused and afraid, but all it had taken was those simple words to light a blazing fire of resolve in his belly. He’d hesitated in front of the roaring, inky abyss for just a moment that cloudy night before leaping from the Pelican and into the darkness. Even then he’d understood what Ambrose was really saying: to be a Spartan wasn’t something that you became just by wanting it. You had to be molded into one, to sacrifice yourself in devotion to a far more meaningful cause than just your own desires.

The trainees sitting with Jake now had proven that they were worthy to receive the title of Spartan. To dedicate their lives to defending humanity from the Covenant and any other force that might threaten it. Every last one of them had walked the same path he had in order to reach this point. When Ambrose and the other DIs had shown them footage from the augmentations of previous Spartan companies, of the candidates left dead or deformed by the procedures, not one of them had backed down. Jake felt honored to even be sitting here with friends like these.

It was an honor he was certain his mother and father had never understood. Gamma Company was his real family.

He realized then that Simon was looking directly at him now. There was a curious look in the Runt’s eyes, one that Jake couldn’t even begin to understand. But Simon had always been tough to read—that was just the way he was, just like Ralph and Mary were always picking fights and Terrence would steal anything that wasn’t bolted down. They were all still Team Jian; after today, they’d all be Spartans together.

Across the aisle, Machete’s Dyne-G217 leaned forward, the usual friendly smile spread across his face. “All these warnings about the procedures sure is making me nervous. What’s all the formulas they’re pumping in us again, Cassie?”

Kopis’s slender medical expert returned Dyne’s smile, though she looked just as nervous as Simon did. “It’s not Cassie,” she corrected, just as she always did. “It’s Cassandra. And do I look like a chemical genius to you?”

“You’re a medical genius, isn’t that close enough?”

Again, laughter from everyone. They were all nervous. But they’d all been nervous during the night jump as well. And every single one of the trainees here had jumped. All it took was the nerve to step out of the Pelican and take the plunge. Just like today.

The intercom crackled. “We’re coming into the Hopeful now, prep for disembark.”

“About time,” Ralph grunted, disengaging his safety harness. “I thought we’d never get there.”

Jake unclipped himself and stood along with the rest of Jian, Machete, and Kopis. He took the lead and could practically feel his teammates forming up behind him. Yes, his fellow trainees were his real family. They always had been. And today they’d complete the transformation into humanity’s guardians. After these augmentations, there would be no turning back. Once you became a Spartan, you were a Spartan for life. Forever.

The Pelican shuddered as it slid into the UNSC Hopeful’s docking cluster. A moment of smooth momentum later and the troop bay opened and a ramp lowered to usher in the bright, clean light of the medical facility. Jake stood up straighter and proudly led his team out into the station. He’d never felt more sure of his purpose and calling as he did now.

This was what they’d all been born to do. This was the destiny they shared. Today, they became Spartans.



Trainee Simon-G294—though he preferred just Simon and most everyone else called him Runt anyway—trailed at the end of the Jian line, his legs leaden with nerves. He fought to keep up with Mary, because if he fell behind and got separated from the others he’d be completely lost. Without the military drill and ceremony that had been ground into him over the course of seven years on Onyx he might have clung to her back as if she were a life preserver. Of course then she’d have turned around and slugged him, but at least then he would be less afraid of getting lost amidst the ocean of other Gamma trainees.

He’d spent the past seven years blending into that ocean, fighting to pass under everyone’s radar only to merely attract more attention once word of his poor performance began to spread. Then it had been a matter of enduring the endless taunts and pranks from the others while struggling to keep up with them, going to sleep at the end of each exhausting day with the certainty that he’d be washed out of the program and thrown back out onto the streets. But that day had never come; somehow he’d eked by and now here he was with all the others, waiting to become a Spartan.

A Spartan. Seven years of training and Simon still wasn’t sure what that meant. It was just another one of the things the DIs yelled at them out on the ranges or obstacle courses. It was hard to absorb the “defender of humanity” when you’d gotten your legs tangled up in barbed wire while live rounds whistled above your head and Mendez or Stacker or any one of the other DIs was standing over you and screaming for you to get a move on. As far as Simon was concerned, a Spartan was still one of the walking tanks that always showed up on the news vids that got brought to Onyx on the resupply frigates: distant, imposing, and certainly nothing like him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a small cluster of uniforms standing off to the side of the stream of trainees. He recognized them all instantly: there was Lieutenant Ambrose and Chief Petty Officer Mendez, and behind them Tom and Lucy, the only two Beta “graduates” the Gammas had ever seen or heard about. Each and every one of them had been with Gamma Company every step of the way. For most trainees, they’d been voices of encouragement and inspiration. The only thing Simon had ever felt from them was disappointment.

Simon joined in the others in saluting Ambrose as he marched past. The lieutenant seemed to be looking at all of them at once, eyes shining with pride. Simon had never felt so out of place. He didn’t belong with Gamma; he couldn’t call it his family. Even Jian, for all he’d been through with them, was just a group of friends and little more. His real family had died when Omelas had been blown off the map, and no one had wanted him after that. At least, not until the Spartan program had found him.

That was why he’d never given up, never thrown in the towel and just gotten himself thrown out. Without Gamma Company, there was nowhere for him to go. And that was why he had to stay with it, no matter what. After everything he’d been through, where else could he have any chance of belonging?

They marched out of the hangar and deeper into the Hopeful. Amidst the calm, rhythmic stamping of marching feet, Simon was surprised to hear someone murmuring in the file beside him.

“...He has brought rulers down from their thrones, but has lifted up the humble…”

A subtle turn of his head revealed that he was marching beside Cassandra, the medic from Team Kopis. She caught his glance mid-prayer and gave him an embarrassed smile; he averted his gaze, his face inexplicably warming from that simple acknowledgement. He forced his eyes forward again, head pulsing with the added confusion he’d had to deal with a few months back when the first changes had started to come to every trainee’s body. At least, he’d thought it was dealt with.

Cassandra was right there with him on the company’s bottom rung. In some areas, her combat scores were worse than his. Yet she wasn’t anything close to the disappointment he was. The DIs said her skills as a combat medic were the best they’d ever seen in the program. She’d found her niche and it had made her happy and adjusted to life in Gamma Company. Simon couldn’t help but envy her for that.

They were being sorted now, directed to different sections of the Hopeful where the preliminary medical procedures would begin. Simon kept the pace, following behind his team just as he’d always done. His limbs grew tighter with every step; his heart raced inside his chest. This was it. This was where they’d become Spartans.

But that thought only made his heart race faster.

How could he turn into something that he didn’t understand? What was waiting for him on the other side of these tubes and machines? He racked his brain, desperately looking for an answer, but it was too late. He couldn’t figure it out.

He thought again of Cassandra. She didn’t seem cut out for this either, but she’d found a way to do it all the same. If she could get through it just through helping people, then maybe he could do. Maybe that was all there was to being a Spartan: helping people. But then again, what could a bottom-feeder like him possibly do to help anyone?

To be a Spartan… to be a hero…

There was still no answer.

The rest of it passed by in a blur of examinations and drug administrations. The next thing he knew, he was on a pallet surrounded by humming machines and beeping monitors. He lay helpless, riddled with needles and tubes as a fire coursed through his body, burning him from the inside out. He thrashed and whimpered feebly, lost in the pain of the augmentations. But the pain wasn’t even the worst part.

Everything that was happening in him and around him felt wrong. There was the pain, yes, but also an even deeper hurt, a violation that coursed through his body along with every new chemical pumped into his veins. He didn’t understand any of it, this wasn’t right, why were they doing this to him…

There was nothing for him to hold on to. No certainty or conviction to wrap his mind around. He was lost in the sea of pain and violation, unable to do anything but go where the raging current tossed him. The world closed in, sealing him inside a churning, artificial coffin of fear and regret. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once. People shouted all around him, gunfire and explosions burst from all directions. He thrashed and cried out as the noise crashed over him, reaching out for something, anything to grab onto.

His lungs were burning now, screaming for air amidst the waves that had had suddenly become icy and hard. The rest of his body moved, kicking and beating against the thin ice until suddenly it was lifted away. A burst of air swept over him and he fell, crashing down onto cold, solid ground.

And as he struggled feebly on the freezing metal, he heard a familiar voice drifting towards him from someplace very near.

“About time, dumbass. I thought you’d never wake up. So tell me Simon, did you have some nice dreams in that tube? The nap’s over; time for you to get back to work.”

Excerpt 8
Nightfall came and went quickly on Mamore. The disappearance of the sun didn’t do much to cool the planet’s hot, dusty air, which was stirred only by the occasional gust of wind that whipped across the rusty fields and plains. In ordinary times, just about everyone on the planet would have spent their nights within air-conditioned homes and shelters.

These were not ordinary times. The men and women of the Humanity Liberation Front’s Seventh Mountain Division, better known as the Mountain Lions, had set up their camp on a plateau overlooking the dusty plains that stretched out for miles and miles as far as the eye could see. Patrols moved in shifts around the base of the hill, setting up long-ranged scanners and making sure no government patrols got close enough to recognize their nightly resting place. All it would take was one Warthog reporting them in for squadron after squadron of bombers to come soaring in to wipe the plateau and its Lion inhabitants off the face of the planet.

Within the camp, the rebel soldiers huddled in small groups. They were a tapestry of soft, cautious activity. Some were already asleep, while others ate, talked quietly amongst themselves, or simply sat together and rested in the hot darkness. A single platoon milled around the Seventh’s small convoy of battered Warthogs and assorted civilian vehicles. Everything had to be ready to move out without delay in just a few hours. Staying on the move was how the Seventh had been such a thorn in the UNSC’s side while also managing to keep up the already impressive feat of keeping themselves alive.

The plateau had once been some sort of farming homestead, before the war had either killed or driven its occupants off. The foundations of a barn and a few shattered houses could be seen amongst the resting insurgents, though only one building was still standing: a lone toolshed that loomed over the rebels as a silent monument to what life must have been like here before war had come to Mamore.

Two men perched on the shed’s roof. They kept themselves low against the rusting panels, just in case snipers lurked out in the darkness beyond the camp in search of an easy shot. Below them, a trio of soldiers passed a pair of shovels between themselves as they dug a single grave for the five shrouded corpses that lay off to the side.

“That was Benny’s team, wasn’t it?” Gavin Dunn, the Seventh’s second in command, rested his head behind his hands and craned his neck to look down at the grave detail.

“Yes.” Redmond Venter, the Seventh’s commander, didn’t glance back at his lieutenant. He sat at the edge of the roof, the back of his close-shaved head revealing nothing about his mood. His voice was hard and grim, but then again it was always like that.

Gavin shook his head and looked away from the bodies. “Damn shame, that. He had a girl waiting for him, back in Mato Grosso. And Carley was a month pregnant. I think the kid was Hume’s. He must feel awful.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Redmond remained rigid as a statue. “No one told me she was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, everyone knows I’m a bit looser on the regs around here.” Gavin sighed. “She was a hell of a singer, too. Benny had a nice crew.”

“It was an ambush,” his commander admitted. “Probably Marines. They hit them when they went into town to get rations. Vincent and his team were with them. Stray and Emily, too. They brought the food back. And the bodies.”

There was a trace of disapproval in Venter’s tone. He didn’t like burials of any kind, since they left evidence of the Seventh’s encampments. Cremation attracted too much attention, so swift burials were all that could be done for the corpses that were lucky enough to be pulled off the battlefield. When it had come up some months before, Gavin had pointed out that taking the bodies kept the UNSC troops from knowing how many fighters they’d killed. Venter had shut that down right away. With their helmet cams and combat monitors, the government commanders would find out how many had been killed during the after-action reviews, regardless of how many bodies were left behind. Benny and his team had just been fortunate enough to have died alongside comrades with the time and bravery to bring them back for a proper sending off.

Even if that sending-off was just a hole in the ground.

Two smaller figures sat below the shed, a few yards away from the burial. Stray and Emily, two of several young fighters serving within the Seventh. Gavin had never once entertained the idea that children could be used as soldiers—at least, not until Mamore’s war for secession had started up. Now the streets of every town were full of war orphans, desperate for a home and ready to do their part to win independence for their planet. Put a rifle in a hungry kid’s hands and teach them some drills and discipline, and you turned a starving urchin into a patriot in the fight for independence. That was the way Gavin saw it, though it still twisted his gut every time he saw the skinny kids riding or marching alongside grown men and women.

And he never got used to seeing those poor, limp bodies.

Stray and Emily were two of the best soldiers Gavin had ever seen out of any age group, young or old. The Seventh had found them hiding out in the mountains; they’d managed to bury an entire Marine platoon under a rockslide with just a pair of grenades and had been picking through the debris for survivors and supplies when Gavin and Redmond had led a patrol to the site of the commotion. Since they’d come into the fold, they’d performed any and every task put to them with a relentless, furious energy that Gavin could only envy. Emily was tough and quick and determined, and Stray…

…Stray was something else entirely. The grimy, shaggy-haired boy couldn’t have been older than fourteen, yet he outstripped almost every other man and woman in the Seventh with his speed, strength, and endurance. He wasn’t even all that big, just lean and well put together, yet Gavin had see him kill full-grown Marines with his bare hands. There was no other way to describe it. Stray was a freak of nature.

They rested back to back, leaning on each other for support just like they always did. Emily looked up at the sky, her head resting on Stray’s shoulder. Stray just stared down at the ground in front of him, passing the tip of a knife through the dirt by his toes.

Gavin followed Emily’s gaze up, up to the sky. Say what you would about Mamore’s heat or its dust or the fact that the entire planet was now a war zone. At night, the sky was beautiful.

Millions and billions of twinkling stars stretched out above Gavin, flooding the plains with their smooth, gentle light. They didn’t care about the war, the killing, the dusty trek that awaited the Seventh in just a few hours. They simply shone on and on, silent testaments to the true vastness of the galaxy Gavin, Redmond, Stray, Emily, the Seventh, and all of humanity lived in.

For a moment, it all seemed so silly. The war with the Covenant wasn’t even a year gone, and now here Gavin was, fighting other humans as if they hadn’t just been pushed to the brink of extinction. He dimly recalled the speeches and rallies he and Redmond had helped coordinate before the fighting had started, how humanity could not survive any longer under Earth’s corrupt tyranny, but all those tracts and politics faded away in the face of all those wonderful stars. Gavin leaned back, drinking it all in for as long as he could.

Beside him, Redmond’s gaze remained fixed on the burial.

“I’ve made a decision.” Gavin wasn’t sure when or how the words came tumbling out of his mouth, but they came out and he kept on talking. “When all this is done, when Mamore’s free, I’m going to space.”

“Oh?” Venter gave him a sidelong look, his face as severe and harsh as ever.

“Those stars out there,” Gavin said, gesturing up at the sky. “I want to see more of them. I’ll get a ship of my own and see them all.”

“When this is over,” Redmond replied. “You can do whatever you want.”

“When this is over,” Gavin agreed. “I’ll do what I want. That’s what we’re fighting for, isn’t it?”

Redmond was quiet for several moments. He turned to look back down at the burial detail. “If you fly like you drive,” he said finally. “I think you’ll need to get more than just one ship.”

He paused again, actually considering the idea. “And you’d better get insurance on all of them.”

Gavin shrugged. “Hey, anything’s possible if you put or mind to it. I can learn how to fly just fine.”

“You said the same thing about playing the guitar, but I’m still not letting you get another one.”

“Hey, I know it wasn’t really a UNSC shell that blew my old one up…” Gavin shook his head. “But I’m serious. I’m going to space. There’s gotta be more to life than just this stupid war.”

His gaze lingered on Stray and Emily. The girl, still looking up at the stars with wistful eyes, didn’t notice but Stray did. He glanced up at Dunn and caught his gaze. There was something strange behind those cold grey eyes of his; there always was. But as usual, Dunn couldn’t read it at all. He looked away, back up at the stars.

“I’m tired of war,” he said, though he couldn’t be sure who he was talking to. “Tired of killing Tired of seeing my friends die in front of me.”

Beside him, Venter didn’t answer. Stray and Emily stayed together in silent companionship as the burial detail kept shoveling dirt, the camp continued its silent vigil, and the stars shone silently down on them all.

Quotes
"Simon isn't trash! And he's not evil!"

- Cassandra-G006

"Self-sacrifice. That's what it means to be a Spartan. We fight in the darkness and never receive recognition for our actions. Plenty of us have died without anyone else knowing what we've done. It's thanks to these sacrifices that humanity still even exists."

- A Spartan

"Let's not dignify this shit by saying it's about revenge, or justice, or the rest of that high and mighty crap you guys like to toss around. This is just about dogs ripping each other apart."

- ????

"We are the alienated. The scorned. The despised. Our name is unworthy of praise, our body unworthy of envy. We are the shadow, cast by the light of heroes. The darkness born of their shining legend. Thus, we hate. Thus, we resent. We feed on the cries of those who sink into darkness, cursing those who shine so brightly. And you? You are the sacrifice!"

- Gravemind to Arthur Onegin

"I believe in pain. I believe in fear. I believe in death."

- Possible Simon quote

"Arthur Onegin, you are the vessel. The one worthy to shoulder all the evil in this wicked galaxy."

- The Chastener

"It all began with a bunch of old fools.,, Church... and me. All of us believing we could make the choices for billions of other people and save humanity. But now, that era of arrogance is over. The others have all passed away. I'm the only one left, and soon I'll be gone, too."

- Arthur Onegin to Simon-G294

"They prey on fear, and loneliness, and desperation, and then they offer a home to those who have no one else to turn to."

- ???

"But you're a hero, aren't you?"

- Zoey?

"I'm just a guy who's good at what he does. Killing."

- Simon?

"Cassandra, I love you."

- Simon-G294

With Team Jian
"No matter where you hide, no matter what you think you can do to run away, I'll always be there waiting for you. And I'll make sure you pay for everything you've done."

- Jake-G293 to Simon-G294

After being assigned to Team Jian, Simon spent most of his time struggling to keep up with his teammates. Although his friends in the squad took a protective attitude towards him and shielded him from the taunts he endured at the hands of other trainees, they often resented his deficiencies and never viewed him as a true peer. Distanced from them and the other Gamma Spartans, Simon quickly lost faith in his friends after they were forced to abandon him on Mamore. After losing the family he had found in Rat Pack, the deaths of teammates Terrence and Mary during the Battle of Earth barely affected him on an emotional level; this fact enraged Jake and Ralph when they discovered his defection. When Simon killed Ralph during the destruction of Philadelphia, Jake was determined to avenge his friend's death and devoted himself to bringing Simon to justice.

With Diana
"To tell the truth, I can't say which I enjoy more: making him happy or watching him suffer..."

- Diana

Simon's partnership with Diana is far more complicated than the friendly, professional relationships enjoyed by many Spartans and their support AIs. An advanced, dangerously experimental AI, Diana has no love or respect for her "meatbag" creators and views herself as a superior being. Uninterested with the human conflicts her Insurrectionist masters dedicated themselves to, she decided that the galaxy and its inhabitants existed solely for her own enjoyment; to that end, she found in the tormented, conflicted Simon the perfect soul to observe and manipulate. Although never taking her offer of partnership at face value, Simon was too grateful for the benefits of such an advanced AI's help to question her betrayal of Venter and the other rebels.

Diana sees Simon as both a vessel to give her agency in the physical world and a "subject" for her to exercise control over. She never loses interest in mocking her "dumbass" partner and will sometimes deliberately engineer misfortune or even outright danger in order to see how he adapts and survive. She often encourages him to take treacherous and self-interested courses of action, preying on his low self-esteem and belief that he and all other Spartans are monsters. Nevertheless, she does feel genuine affection for her unfortunate partner and assigns his life far more value than that of any other "meatbag."

With Gavin Dunn
"Never again! Never, ever again!"

- Simon promises not to work with Gavin Dunn, again

Biography
At the end of the, Tobias was a down-on-his-luck freighter captain who had been hired by the to ferry supplies between  and besieged military bases throughout the embattled Sol system. With the war over and the Covenant withdrawing, Tobias's contract was at an end and he saw little chance for lucrative employment within Earth's shattered economy. Drifting aimlessly near Jupiter, he chanced upon a scuttled orbiting the planet. Daring to venture alone aboard the crippled alien vessel, he discovered that most of the crew had been killed by a ship-wide decompression while the rest had fled without self-destructing the vessel. After contacting the Navy, Tobias set about combing the ship for salvage. When a military recovery team arrived several days later, they confiscated the ship and almost all of its contents—everything save for several crates full of holographic entertainment devices.

Embittered by the military's takeover and his miniscule salvage fee, Tobias withdrew to a refueling station where he examined the recovered holo-devices. With the help of Marco Killian, a former Naval data analyst, he pieced together how they functioned and swiftly realized the market potential for the alien entertainment systems. He and Marco struck a deal: in exchange for a cut of the profits, Marco would help Tobias translate and reproduce the entertainment systems for sale on the colonial markets. The two invested in analyzing the foreign technology and soon began selling government approved knock-offs that featured most of the originals' features without the dangerous presence of Covenant materials and power sources. After decades of tight military control over alien artifacts, the public jumped at the chance to experience such advanced entertainment. Selling in deliberately tight supply, Tobias and Marco made millions within the first year of production. By the time they hired a manufacturing company to mass-produce the entertainment devices, the partners had become two of the most successful entrepreneurs since the destructive war had begun.

Personality and Traits
Tobias was ambitious and daring, traits that made him extremely successful in his quest to excavate and recover alien artifacts. Despite his age he was remarkably self-sufficient, often spending long periods of time by himself in uncharted space and only hiring additional help when it was absolutely necessary. He often surprised would-be bandits and raiders with his proficiency with both firearms and unarmed combat, indicating some sort of previous military training—though if Tobias had fought for the UNSC, the, or another group entirely was unknown. Tobias was a legend among spacers for his secrecy and ability to keep his discoveries hidden even from splinter factions and UNSC recovery teams. His caution and paranoia was well known, and he left a miniscule footprint with both his movements and finances.

"This tastes like ass you waste of space! Go make me something that's actually food!"

- Tobias Lensky reacts to Simon-G294's cooking

When Tobias did hire subordinates, he was a highly critical and demanding employer. His extensive time alone in the field made him very caustic and dismissive of others, though when impressed by an employee's services he paid extremely well.

Known Gamma Spartans

 * Holly-G003 (KIA)
 * Cassandra-G006
 * Victoria-G013 (1)
 * Alex-G014 (KIA)
 * Benjamin-G015 (KIA)
 * Morgana-G018
 * Sam-G019
 * James-G023
 * Joshua-G024
 * Amos-G028 (KIA)
 * Billy-G039
 * Alric-G040 (KIA)
 * Hannah-G049 (1)
 * Robert-G056
 * Jack-G067
 * Crystal-G072
 * Cooper-G078 (2)
 * Amy-G094
 * Ash-G099
 * Graham-G101(KIA)
 * Dennis-G102
 * Denny-G105 (4)
 * Zane-G112
 * Edward-G113 (4)
 * Kodiak-G114
 * Elena-G124
 * Mary-G130 (KIA)
 * Viggo-G132
 * Sara-G134
 * Raniya-G135
 * Dominic-G146
 * Joey-G148
 * Rebecca-G149 (2)
 * Terrence-G150(KIA)
 * Brittany-G154
 * Cameron-G156 (1)
 * Branwyn-G160
 * Jace-G162 (3)
 * John-G164
 * Cesare-G177 (KIA)
 * Andor-G180
 * Kasumi-G181
 * Dante-G188 (KIA)
 * Cato-G202 (2)
 * Kris-G203 (4)
 * Julian-G209
 * May-G210
 * Emmett-G211 (1)
 * Dyne-G217
 * Seung-ah-G218
 * Karl-G222 (2)
 * Sirius-G223 (4)
 * Ezra-G226 (3)
 * Marcus-G228
 * Shaiming-G231
 * Nathan-G235 (KIA)
 * Clara-G235 (Actene and Chakra, resolve)
 * Elijah-G237
 * Vincent-G270 (KIA)
 * Raziel-G241 (2)
 * Cora-G288 (3)
 * Sean-G291
 * Jake-G293
 * Simon-G294
 * Wyatt-G297
 * Alec-G298
 * Ralph-G299
 * Saul-G313
 * Sepia-G330


 * Aaron 3 (KIA)
 * Chelsea
 * Silvana 4
 * Lukas

Gamma Teams

 * Jian
 * Kopis
 * Falchion
 * Machete
 * Dagger
 * Katana
 * Gladius
 * Saber
 * Xiphos
 * Dao
 * Rapier Team
 * Claymore
 * Team Tanto

Simon-G294: Mercenary Adventures

 * Hired to protect a burgeoning human colony from Jiralhanae pirates. After a prolonged battle that sees him used guerrilla tactics to defeat the pirates, Simon emerges battered but victorious. The colonists are disgusted to learn that he is a traitor Spartan and abandon him out in the wilderness while he is recovering from his injuries. He drags himself back towards the colony, going five days without food and water before collapsing. He is ultimately rescued by someone, presumably Gavin Dunn.

Simon-G294

 * Species:Augmented human
 * Allegiance:None
 * Characteristics:

Cassandra-G006

 * Species:Augmented human
 * Allegiance:None
 * Characteristics:

Diana

 * Species:"Smart" artificial intelligence
 * Allegiance:None
 * Characteristics:

Arthur Onegin

 * Species:Augmented human
 * Allegiance:None
 * Characteristics:

Zoey Hunsinger

 * Species:Human
 * Allegiance:The Chancer V
 * Characteristics:

Tobias Lensky

 * Species:Human
 * Allegiance:None
 * Characteristics:

Helen Powell

 * Species:Human
 * Allegiance:The Syndicate
 * Characteristics:

Redmond Venter

 * Species:Human
 * Allegiance:Insurrection
 * Characteristics:

David Kahn

 * Species:Human
 * Allegiance:None
 * Characteristics:

Shinsu 'Refum

 * Species:Sangheili
 * Allegiance:The Cleansing Blade
 * Characteristics:

Tuka 'Refum

 * Species:Sangheili
 * Allegiance:The Covenant remnant
 * Characteristics:

Pula ('Refum)

 * Species:Sangheili
 * Allegiance:The Cleansing Blade
 * Characteristics:

Character concepts

 * UNSC naval officer tasked with policing the space lanes; a capable commander, but is generally put into service against Insurrectionists, pirates, and other human criminals rather than against the Covenant. Possibly a Javert figure for Gavin Dunn, becomes obsessed with catching the Chancer V. On the whole a decent fellow, just a bit zealous about "cleaning up the space lanes."