Halo Fanon:Survival of the Fittest/Season 4

Pilot

Felix-116's eyes flew open abruptly, and he realized with a start that he was already standing on his feet.

It was an odd feeling. He was no stranger to being unconscious for whatever reason; that type of thing was unavoidable and sometimes customary when you served in the UNSC. But he was certain that he had never woken up on his feet before, with nothing holding him in place.

There was no feeling of a headache, or haziness to his thoughts, or whatever usually accompanied the state of waking up that would give a clue as to how he had been unconscious. In fact, he couldn't even remember what he was before here; all he knew was who he was and that something weird was happening. He pondered this for another moment before military training kicked in, and he stopped trying to figure everything out, deciding instead to look around and see what he could do in his current situation.

He seemed to be in a room, except that wasn't quite the right word for it. He was standing in a large rectangular prism with about a dozen others—Marines, aliens, even a Spartan or two—except there didn't seem to be any doors, or any way out at all. Is this ONI pulling some kind of stunt? The others looked mostly confused, with one or two watching each other warily. None of them were armed, but they were fully armoured. He noticed that two of the aliens were a Kig-Yar and a Jiralhanae, and tensed. He should at least incapacitate them before doing anything else, and maybe a couple of the shiftier-looking Sangheili that didn't look like they were friends of the UNSC.

Felix tried to take a step towards them, but realized that he couldn't move at all. He couldn't even struggle; apart from moving his eyes and breathing in and out, he couldn't so much as tilt his head. What is going on?

Then a voice spoke. It sounded like it belonged to an adolescent, not an ONI officer. "Hey, can you all hear me?"

Some of the others grunted a reply. Felix looked around, trying to see where the voice was coming from.

"I'll take that as a yes," the voice said. "Well, let's not forestall any longer. Welcome to the fourth season of Survival of the Fittest!"

"And the second that hasn't been cancelled," a second voice muttered. This one belonged to an older person, but this speaker wasn't any more visible than the first. "Yet."

There was laughing heard in the background.

"Yes, yes, you can blame for that. But I happen to be more organized with that kind of stuff."

"Oh yeah, thanks," came a third voice, presumably belonging to the one called Actene. "I'm right here, you know."

"Of course I know. I picked you as one of the guest writers."

"Hey!" yelled one of the Marines. "Are you guys going to argue all day, or do we get to find out what the hell is going on?"

"LOMI, tell your Marine to shut up," said the first voice.

"Hey Brandon, shut up," said the fourth voice, LOMI.

But Brandon kept talking. "What do you mean 'his Marine'? I don't know anyone called LOMI."

"It doesn't matter," said the first voice impatiently. "And we're getting off topic here. You're all a part of Survival of the Fittest, and basically your goal is to kill each other."

Felix looked over the others in the room. There were some he certainly wouldn't object to killing, but a few of them were UNSC. ''Kill them? Why?''

"Wait, wait wait, hold on," said a female Navy officer. "First of all, who are you guys?"

There was a pause. "That's irrelevant."

"Are you ONI?"

"No. It's not that simple."

"At least tell us why we have to kill each other."

"Well...this is going to sound bad. But it's for fun."

"Fun?" repeated Brandon. "How is that fun?"

The Jiralhanae clad in the armour of a Chieftain snorted. "This would be fun if there were more of them to kill. As it is, I count only thirteen of us."

"Ah, yes," the voice said. "It's not just thirteen of you. There are going to be sixty-two of you in total."

The alien gave a huff of approval. "I'm in."

"So where are the others?" the Navy officer asked.

"Oh, they don't know. They'll be dropped into the map and have no idea what's going on."

"That is hardly fair," objected one of the Sangheili that Felix recognized as Autel 'Vadam.

"Well, I like to keep things surprising."

"So why do we get to know?" asked Brandon. "Not that I mind, of course."

"Because it wouldn't be interesting to sit back and watch you guys wandering around for ages until one of you figures out you have to kill everyone else, would it?"

"Or because you want your characters to have an advantage," said LOMI's voice.

"Bullshit," the first voice replied, sounding offended. "I'm being perfectly fair here."

"Then how come you put both Felix and Autel into the room? Admit it, you want your characters to win."

There it was again. Felix wondered what LOMI meant. He glanced at Autel, who returned his confused look at being referred to as someone else's "character". ''This is bizarre. Who could these guys be?''

"Can we get on with it?" said Brandon. "I think you people are sick, but if we have to kill each other, I'd rather not listen to you teenagers argue over it first."

"Actually, I happen to be twenty-five," said the other unidentified voice, the older one. This statement was followed by a chorus of groans.

"Dude, there's no point being anal over details with fanon characters," said the first voice.

"You do realize that you're misusing the word—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Okay, everyone, get ready. In about five seconds, you'll find yourselves in a gigantic map with sixty-one opponents. Consider every single one of them hostile, because when this is over, only one of you can be left standing. Good luck."

Felix's mind was whirling. He wanted to ask the voice how they got here, what he meant by "characters", and what the purpose to it all was. ''This could just be a dream. It can't be real. It just can't.''

Then the floor disappeared beneath them, and he felt himself falling. Some invisible force gripped him, penetrating through layers of shielding and armour without resistance, and he felt himself beginning to black out once more.

1
Justin-057 stalked through the forest, moving in almost complete silence despite the half-ton of armour on him and his own considerable weight. He kept his stance relaxed, looking almost like he was taking a casual stroll. Except the stroll happened to be in the middle of nowhere, and with no knowledge of how he got here.

It was weird, really. He had woken up in the middle of a forest clearing, instantaneously and on his feet, no less. Even his training in the SPARTAN-II program couldn't explain how he had managed that. It was like being drugged, except with the polar opposite of the side-effects.

He almost relaxed as he took in his surroundings. The forest seemed peaceful enough, reminding him of something between a childhood memory on his homeworld of Romulon, and a ten-day training exercise with the other SPARTAN-IIs on Reach. He felt out of place, wearing a full suit of MJOLNIR armour and in combat stance, but years of training had taught him to be careful in unfamiliar territory. There could be hostiles anywhere, and the fact that he wasn't armed meant he had to all the more cautious.

The Spartan made his way through the forest, his barely audible sounds of movement covered up by the rustling of the wind through trees, and the wildlife that chirped faintly around him.

2
Shinsu 'Refum peered down at the terrain stretched out before him. He had found a good spot, and although he was loath to admit it, it was thanks to luck or whatever guiding force that placed him here.

He didn't know how he got here, or what he was doing here, but knew instantly that he was put up to a challenge of survival, even if it was to no one in particular. But he wasn't unduly worried about that; he had won and lost many battles in the past, but if there was one thing he could do, it was to find his way to the top. No matter what disadvantages he had or what cost he had to pay, in the end, he always outwitted his enemies.

So when he found himself on a ledge on a mountainside, not too high off the ground and with a barely visible crevice that served as a proper shelter with fresh running water, he knew that he wasn't going anywhere. Although he had no scopes or binoculars, his sharp eyes were able to see far with the view given to him. As an added bonus, his armour blended perfectly with the colour of the stony ledge even without the use of his active camouflage, and the only way he would be spotted was if someone knew he was there.

He didn't know for certain if there were enemies around, but it was safer to assume there was. Although he was armed with only an Energy Sword and a few plasma grenades, that was really all he needed to take on an opponent. Once he spotted something below that looked like a threat, then he would engage his camouflage and eliminate it before it even knew it was dead. Feeling confident and more patient than he would have expected in a situation like this, he leaned back against a boulder, and waited.

3
Vinh-030 dashed through the dusty, uneven terrain, easily leaping over debris strewn on the ground and keeping her weapon aimed steadily in front of her. She knew she was making a bit of noise, but at the moment, silence wasn't her highest priority.

She had woken up from an odd state of unconsciousness, on her feet, fully armoured, holding a BR55 in her hand and carrying a quartet of fragmentation grenades and an M6 Laser Rifle on her back. She was in a vehicle graveyard, filled with broken UNSC ground and air vehicles.

She had searched briefly for working equipment and maybe a functional vehicle, but found nothing in the immediate area and decided to head for cover instead of waiting to be spotted by possible hostiles. She was currently heading into a narrow, grassy canyon, and decided that a vehicle wouldn't be of any use to her anyway. The canyon was only about forty feet high or so, and she intended on climbing to the top. Even if she somehow found a Hornet, it would be too conspicuous in the open space.

She glanced one last time at the junkyard before clearing it. Maybe if she was with a team, she would have searched harder for resources while the others kept the perimeter secured. Then they would all mount up on a Warthog and drive in the opposite direction of the canyon. As it was, she was on her own and had no idea where she was, so she decided to head for higher ground, search for possible allies, and hope there were no enemy snipers lurking in the area as she made her climb.

Although it was the best course of action, better than walking into the canyon below potential enemies, she couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. She wasn't in a great spot, even if she did make the climb as quickly as possible, she could be very easily killed if luck was against her. She didn't dare broadcast on any COM channels until she had a confirmed visual of friendlies. Although judging from the graveyard of UNSC vehicles, it was unlikely that any of them were in the area.

4
Stel 'Vadam kept to the cover of trees as he made his way around the massive lake. He knew he was very close to the body of water and could be spotted by enemies if they looked hard enough, but he decided it was worth the risk if it meant he had a mostly clear visual on the open area around him.

He looked down at his Needler to make sure every shard in the magazine was protruding from the top of the gun. If anything tried creeping up on him, they would suffer a very quick and painful death from the deadly weapon. And he also had a heavy Concussion Rifle on his back if he needed to flush someone a little more distant out of cover. It wasn't the best weapon for the job, but he knew how to make good use of what he had.

For a moment, he felt exhilarated, in contrast to the serenity around him. Survival of the Fittest, the voice had called it. It was almost like the old days in the Human-Covenant War, where he took on numerous humans, and killed as many of them as he could. Although he learned to accept the humans as allies after the war, he knew that the rules were different here. Here, everyone was an enemy.

He remembered how his nephew Autel had objected to the voice saying that they were the only ones who knew the objective, for now. Perhaps him and others like him would try and form alliances. A good idea, had it not been for the snag that they would eventually have to kill each other. Stel didn't want to trust his life to anyone else, not even his own family. Countless campaigns in a war against a species desperate to escape extinction taught him that even the noblest of individuals would do whatever it took to survive when they were threatened. He was not going to allow himself to be stabbed in the back by someone he placed a momentary trust in. If he found Autel or even someone like his friend Doug, he wouldn't hesitate to kill them, albeit with no sense of triumph in doing so.

5
Marco-025 moved down the hallway, trying to suppress his unease. He had been trained for something like this before, and he had even faced it more times than he would have liked, and made it out more or less in one piece. But this time everything was different.

He was one of the thirteen people in the black room, and had heard what the voice told them to do. Kill everyone else until you're the only one left. It didn't sound that different from some of the more extreme missions he had received. But hell, what was the point of it? He had no backup, no intel, and no one on the outside to communicate with. Even for a Spartan, this kind of scenario was enough to warrant panic.

Kill everyone else. He had killed human targets before; civilians, freebooters, even some unfortunate UNSC servicemen that had ended up on ONI's blacklist. And he was accustomed to being kept in the dark on those types of operations. But this just felt like something even he couldn't pass up questioning. It felt wrong.

It was for fun. That was what the voice had said. He didn't know whether or not to believe it. Here he was, inside some strange unoccupied human facility, his MA5B aimed at chest level and ready to light up the first thing that moved. The facility didn't even look abandoned; it was just completely empty. If he did spot another person, could he kill it? Even if it was an ally?

The door hissed open, dispelling the silence but making it feel more eerie. He swept his rifle around the new room he had arrived in, which was some sort of storage facility. It was completely lit, and crates were stacked in organized arrays all over the shelves. But it was, just like the last few rooms he had passed though, devoid of anyone except himself.

6
Richard Mack Jr. couldn't remember the last time he had regained consciousness outside an SOEIV. Then again, he couldn't the last time he was on a mission outside of Whiskey-04.

Mission wasn't really the right word for it, though. The word "mission" implied that you actually knew what you were supposed to do, not wake up standing perfectly upright in the middle of a deserted city and and clutching an MA5B. And that was precisely the situation Mack found himself in.

He could have spent more time dwelling on it, but he never was one to ask too many questions. It was clear that right now, he was cut off from the chain of command, in an unknown and possibly hostile location, and had with him only his ODST combat suit and other assorted equipment on him. So he decided to move through the city alone, sticking to cover and watching for signs of movement.

Everything in the city was broken, as he soon found out. Tall buildings were still standing, but looked quite worse for wear and had every single window blown out. Cars lay flipped over and trashed all over the street. A few electronics were still partially operational, although they were displaying unidentifiable images that were of no help whatsoever. It was almost like a war was fought here, except there were no bodies.

Has this place been hit by EMP or something? He recalled that a team of Helljumpers, led by an ONI officer, had been dropping in on New Mombasa during the Battle of Earth, when a Covenant carrier made an atmospheric Slipspace jump that devastated the entire city and scattered the entire team. They had somehow all survived and a couple of them made it into the city before they regrouped and pulled out the next morning. The story had been well-circulated among the 105th after the war.

Mack put the thoughts of the event out of his head, and refocused himself to watching for contacts. He didn't know where he was going, but he kept moving. He felt that if he wasn't doing something, then he might as well sit around and wait for someone or something to show up and kill him. He would keep moving until he found some way to make sense of this mess. He could always decide what to do from there when the time came.

1
Kane-099 made one more thorough sweep to make sure there was no one else lurking around before looking down the sights of his SRS99-S2 AM sniper rifle and taking aim at the targets in the distance. He had a clear line of fire to the thirty or so hostiles, and although they were inbound on his position, he knew he would be able to drop every one of the bastards before they made half the distance.

It was almost too easy. He had been perched in a sturdy tree at the edge of the forest he found himself in, watching for movement, when he saw a half dozen Jiralhanae squads running across the adjacent grassland, in plain open space. Kane had checked to make sure there was no vehicle support with them, and nothing lurking in his proximity inside the forest either. But the teams were heading in his direction, and whether they knew he was there or if it was just a coincidence, he knew he had to eliminate them.

His finger paused on the trigger. What if it was some kind of trick, meant to give away his position as soon as he start shooting? His sniper rifle was hardly a quiet weapon, and he didn't have a silencer on him. Sound travelled easily in the forest.

"Don't really have a choice," he muttered to himself, staring down the scope again. If he didn't kill those Jiralhanae, they would reach the forest, and with their excellent sense of smell, find him in minutes. And he happened to like his hiding place.

Besides, I've laid some insurance around the area. When he first woke up, he had found to his amazement that in addition to his rifle, sidearm, and combat knife, he had twenty-four fragmentation grenades on him. When he found a good place to watch for contacts, he strung them on a trip wire and laid them around a twenty-metre radius. No one was going to sneak up on him. It wasn't a foolproof protection, but right now, he decided to worry about the thirty Jiralhanae bearing down on him instead of the possibility of being heard by someone else who may or may not be in the forest.

Kane aimed at the head of a gold-armoured Captain Major, the one that looked like the leader of the whole rabble. It was too easy a target to miss. Taking a deep breath and holding it, the Spartan sharpshooter pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew through the air and took the target in the right eye almost instantaneously, dropping him like a stone. The aliens around him flinched in surprise, looking around to see where he was. He adjusted his aim, guessing that he could take out at least four more of them before they recovered.

2
Raphael Esquival-Cortez knew the peace was too good to last. He had been taking shelter in the hollow trunk of a large tree, taking a breather after the long run across the grassland and finding a hiding place with his weapons close to hand, when he saw a team of Kig-yar moving through the forest. One of them had walked so close to the tree that he could have grabbed its leg if he tried.

It then that he heard the sounds of a UNSC sniper rifle echoing through the forest. It was rather faint from where he was, but he guessed that the shooter was somewhere at the forest edge opposite to where he had been. It was possible that it was a potential ally, and while the ODST knew he should be careful, he decided to stick his neck out if it meant he didn't have to hide in a hole alone until his luck ran out.

Raphael eyed the M909 Gauss Sniper Rifle he propped against the inside of the tree. It was a powerful weapon, capable of tearing vehicles apart with just a few rounds, but it wasn't ideal for shooting Jackals in an enclosed forest. Besides, the thing made a lot of noise and he had a limited amount of ammunition for it. He stuck the long-barrelled rifle to his back and pulled his M12 SMG off his side, and without hesitation, leaped out from his cover and shot the nearest Jackal in the back.

Magenta blood sprayed from the alien's wound, and it was flung forward from the gunfire, and fell hard on its face. Most of the others were so far ahead that they didn't hear the quiet gunfire over the sound of them running, but a few turned around and hissed at him.

The ODST kept moving as he opened fire at a second alien, dropping it instantly. He took out a third by putting five bullets into its chest. A few plasma bolts splashed against his combat suit, but it held, mostly. He ignored the dull heat that partially penetrated the armour, and methodically shot down each alien, ducking behind a tree when he had to reload. He moved out of cover to find that there was one left, its shield held in front of its face and its Plasma Pistol glowing with overcharge.

Raphael shot it in the hand, causing the Kig-yar to flinch and shift its grip on its shield. He ducked as the discharged plasma bolt sizzled past his head, and before the alien could recover, he fired two bullets into its brain.

The ODST exhaled and counted the number of Jackals he had killed. Eight. Some of them had kept going, and were heading for his maybe-ally. He checked once to make sure there weren't any more hostiles behind him before he sprinted towards the sound of the sniper fire.

3
Jack-085 saw that one of them was still alive, and aimed his M6D at his victim's head, but paused and instead stepped over the body. ''He will die. Let him suffer.''

Walking around the room that was strewn with the bodies of those he had killed, and checked to make sure they didn't carry anything of use to him. Of course they wouldn't. But what they're guarding might. His combat boots were splattered with crimson from the pools of blood he had been stepping in. Human blood.

It didn't bother him unduly that he had just slain an entire unit of militia. What they were doing here didn't matter either, just that they were here and they hadn't stood a chance against him when he arrived.

Jack had found himself earlier in the middle of a desert. This would have been worrying if he was still half the human he had once been, but he no longer thought of himself as anything of the sort. His reconstructed body had little need for water, and he was able to tirelessly cut across the sandy terrain for over a kilometre before he found the facility in less than an hour.

It was a human facility, laid in the middle of the desert for no apparent reason. And inside it was about fifty human militia, who had been struck by fear at the sight of him. Their reactions was nothing new, but he knew that they probably wouldn't be of any use to him unless they were out of his way. So he killed every one of them he saw until he found the armoury.

And here he was. The large metal door was locked and reinforced, but he merely replaced his pistol, punched two deep holes into it, and ripped it clean off its frame with his prosthetic hands. Carelessly tossing them aside, he stepped inside.

He was surprised that to find himself in what was not just an armoury, but a vehicle bay as well. There were ground vehicles and aircraft laid in the middle of the room, which was like a mini hangar bay, and weapons were lined up along the walls, categorized by type.

He walked over to the single Sabre starfighter, recognizing it by description instantly but amazed that there was one here. He could certainly deal a lot of damage with it. He opened its hatch and stowed his MA5K under the seat before walking to the wall of shotguns. He selected an M90 and as many shells he could carry, and also grabbed some flashbang grenades and an Antilon AP mine, putting the lot of it inside the Sabre as well.

Now to get out of here. Jack looked around. The vertical hangar door was on the end of a short runway, but there didn't seem to be a control panel anywhere. He could go back to the control room he had found earlier, but that would take time. Grabbing another mine, he planted it at the base of the door instead. He climbed into the Sabre and remote-detonated the explosive, flying out of the facility from the newly created hole before the smoke cleared.

4
Riker-012 watched the Covenant teams taking positions around the corner of the building, and knew they had him in a bad position. Still, he wasn't too concerned. Maybe he was pinned down for now, but he had fought them for long enough to know that when led by some thickheaded, overzealous Jiralhanae, they were notoriously bad at overlooking their advantages. And when that happened, certain alien bastards tended to get killed.

Still, he had to move fast. There were three Mgalekgolo pairs lurking somewhere in the area, and he knew that at least two of them were closing in behind him. He was a Spartan, yes, but he didn't have a death wish. It would be easier to take out a couple of Jiralhanae and their terrified subordinates than dance his way around Hunters and try and single-handedly kill four of them with some not-so-heavy weapons.

He looked up at the facility he was currently positioned outside of. It bore a remarkable resemblance to OUTPOST Base, an ONI research station he had once been assigned to defend. Or maybe it was just a base with the same model. It didn't matter. But when he had spotted it from a distance, he decided to check it out and see if there was any chance there were possible allies inside.

He had attempted to contact the base via COM, but received no response. Instead, he unwittingly caught the attention of Covenant forces in the area, which he hadn't spotted upon scoping the exterior of the base before moving in. It was almost like they appeared out of nowhere.

''Since when did the Covenant get so good at intercepting radio transmissions? I was using one of the most secure channels too...'' It was possible that the Covenant owned the base, but there was no sign of a fight here at all. The Spartan decided to find a way inside and see what he could find. It was more comforting to be close to a UNSC facility than to wander around aimlessly, even if he hadn't spotted a single friendly yet.

Riker glanced back one more time to make sure the Hunters hadn't caught up to him. Satisfied, he pulled the pin on a frag and tossed it around the corner. It was followed by a thump and a squeal of pain. The following explosion sounded much closer than he expected.

''Must have hit one of the little bastards in the face. Oh well.'' Instead of tossing another grenade, he raised his MA37 to chest level instead and turned the corner, running through the cloud of black smoke and spraying the nearest Jiralhanae with full-automatic gunfire.

The alien's shields went down in less than two seconds, and the Spartan crushed its skull by bringing his rifle hard onto the side of its head. Moving around the eliminated hostile, he opened fire on the second one before its dead companion even hit the ground. The rest of the Assault Rifle's magazine ended up in the Brute's stomach.

Riker ejected the spent mag from the chamber, and realized that his shields were low. Dropping the gun, he pulled out two M6H Pistols and took out a score of Grunts while still moving. Letting go of the empty sidearms as well, he grabbed a dead Jiralhanae's Spike Carbine.

There were only five Unggoy left, and his shields were back up now that the enemy fire had dwindled. He easily took out the diminutive enemies before discarding the alien weapons and picking up his MA37.

He was halfway through reloading the Assault Rifle when he heard the clanking of Mgalekgolo armour, not so far off. It sure sounded like there were at least four of them. Hurriedly sticking the magazine into his weapon, he scooped up his M6Hs and dashed for the security door.

It was locked, but to his surprise, the panel accepted his access code, the same one he used as Codename: CHRONO. So was he at OUTPOST after all? The Spartan hurried inside and locked the door again. He reloaded his pistols before proceeding further into the facility.

The hallway was dimly lit and there was no sound save for the dull whir of machinery in the nearby rooms. But it felt reassuring to be inside the UNSC facility, especially because its layout was one he was so familiar with.

5
Sigurd-D1010 guessed that somehow, for whatever reason, luck was working against him. Unless the Flood had learned not to turn a healthy terrain into a total hellhole since the last time he encountered them, the others that were here with him probably didn't have to put up with them right now.

Not that they were that hard to kill. The parasite had caught him by surprise, which was what annoyed him more at the moment. Here he was, in a nice lush jungle, looking completely harmless, and he was being attacked by combat forms mutated out of an unrecognizable species and more besides. He had been aware of the possibility of hostiles, but hadn't been expecting the Flood.

The M99 Stanchion Gauss Rifle magnetically adhered to his back was powerful against most enemies, but was of little more use than the SRS99 at killing Flood. Unless he destroyed the infection form with it, but it would be a waste of ammo since he could do that with his heavy-barrel BR55 anyway. So the Spartan simply backpedalled from the advancing hordes, pumped rounds into their chest cavities, and made sure none of them sneaked up behind him.

Another cluster of infection forms appeared, joining the already overflowing group of parasite and eagerly crawling towards him. Sigurd wished he had some fragmentation grenades to wipe them out while they were bunched together, but right now the only form of explosive he had was the Lotus anti-tank mine he carried, and he was saving that for a rainy day. So he just kept shooting them one by one, making his shots count and reloading as quickly as he could.

He looked over his shoulder momentarily to see what was behind him. He was approaching a cliff edge which dropped into a steep waterfall. He had just come this way a few minutes ago, and had been shimmying along the rock face because there was nowhere else to go. There was no way he could go back the same way and keep the Flood at bay.

"Fuck this," he said to no one in particular. He emptied the remainder of his magazine, and not bothering to reload, grabbed the Stanchion and took aim. Time to blow a hole or two in this formation and run like hell.

6
"Kill him!" roared one of the Sangheili.

The statement triggered a mass of them sprinting towards him. They were armed with metal rods, utility knives, and other makeshift weapons that were close at hand. But their charge was uncoordinated, and Ro'nin easily gunned them down with his Type-51 Plasma Repeater. One or two bolts in the head each were fatal to their unprotected heads, and if they tried to rush him, well, they would only make easier targets.

One particularly daring Sangheili threw a small knife at him, which he easily dodged and retaliated by shooting the offender in the face. His weapon was starting to overheat from the excessive firing, but he was careful for them not to notice.

Still, one thing gave the mercenary pause for thought. These Sangheili seemed different. Even though they were clearly not in service to the military, they fell far short from the average civilian of his kind, who would even have a fair amount of knowledge on combat and also make fearless, and quite reckless attacks.

These civilians seemed more cautious though. Despite their bravado, Ro'nin could tell that they weren't too eager about rushing them, even if doing so meant some of them would make it far enough to injure him. They were almost like humans.

He had no sense of superiority over humans as many other Sangheili did, but he knew that these civilians acted a lot like them. Although why they decided to attack him on sight, he didn't know.

Have I become that infamous? he thought with a touch of amusement. He did have a lot of questionable endeavours with his fellow mercenary, the Jiralhanae Kenpachus. But they were able to remain unidentified to their victims and even sometimes clients. Mostly.

I wonder where Kenpachus is now, he thought, casually killing another civilian with a well-placed plasma bolt. ''He certainly would enjoy this kind of fight. Whereas I just find myself wasting ammunition on these pathetic semi-warriors.''

He felt a twinge of irritation. Kenpachus was usually around so often to the point where Ro'nin was unable to stand him at times, and it just so happened that irony decided to play its cruel joke on him by separating them when he actually wanted him here.

If he is in this strange land as well though, I know where he will most likely be, he thought. ''I don't know how big this...world is, but he certainly won't be in this dingy Sangheili village. I suppose I should try to find him, since I already grow bored of this slaughter.''

His weapon finally overheated, and its hiss was like the raising of a floodgate. The last handful of civilians charged en masse, brandishing their weapons and shouting threats. Without the slightest touch of concern, the mercenary activated his Energy Sword. ''There are only a few of them left. This will not take long.''

1
Kane lowered his sniper rifle as the last Jiralhanae collapsed with a 14.5mm round in the middle of its forehead. It was still more than fifty metres away, and was the last in a long line of dead aliens scattered around the grassland.

The Spartan checked his magazine, saw that there was only one round left, and ejected it, replacing it with a full one. He had only three mags left, but he could still inflict a lot of damage with twelve rounds.

He paused as he heard running coming from inside the forest, coupled with the barely audible rattle of a submachine gun. He turned around and zoomed in with his sniper rifle again, and it wasn't too long before he spotted a Kig-yar dashing through the foliage, weapon raised and looking around frantically. It was soon joined by three more of its companions.

Kane set down his rifle and switched to his M6D instead, aiming at the lead alien but not firing. He didn't need to give away his position if it wasn't necessary, and with any luck these guys would run straight into—

The Kig-yar stumbled, tripping over what seemed like an invisible force. It didn't even have time to maintain its balance before it was consumed by two explosions from his frag grenades.

The other Jackals hissed in shock, staring at the mutilated remains of their companion and looking around to see who triggered the explosions. Two more Kig-yar joined them, looking more like they were running from something. They didn't last long though; an SMG flared from behind the foliage, cutting down both of them in seconds.

When the last three turned to the bushes and started firing, Kane decided to lend the newcomer a hand. He shot two of the Kig-yar in the back of the head with his Pistol, and finished the last one by shooting it twice in the back. Silence fell over the forest again, only to be broken by the rustling of leaves as an ODST emerged from the foliage.

The ODST hadn't spotted him yet, but kept walking in his direction, weapon still up and looking around.

Kane kept his weapon trained on the newcomer as he called out, "You might want to stop there, before you trip one of my wires and end up like that one over there."

The Marine stopped, looking at the bloody remnants of the first Kig-yar, then to him. He depolarized his visor. "Hey, don't point that at me, Spartan. I'll help you, alright?"

Kane grabbed his equipment and jumped down from the tree. "I suppose I need someone to watch my back, and I'd rather it's someone from the UNSC. Nice job with the Jackals. I'm Kane. SPARTAN-099."

"Raphael Cortez," the ODST said. "Gunnery Sergeant."

"I don't think ranks are important in here...wherever we are. It's all about survival."

"You said it. What was with the sniping? I could hear you halfway across the forest."

"Let me show you." He led Cortez to the clearing, and pointed to the thirty Jiralhanae corpses lying in the grassland. The Marine pulled his own rifle off his back and looked down the sight. Kane examined the weapon. It was a Sniper Rifle no doubt, and it looked similar to the M99 Stanchion. He could probably tear a Hunter in half with one shot if he fired that thing. He was glad of the extra firepower, but hoped that he would run out of ammo before they inevitably had to fight each other.

The ODST finished looking over the area and whistled, one eyebrow raised. "Damn. I'm glad we're on the same side, Spartan."

2
Gutak 'Cyandenee reloaded his MA5C in half the time it took for the enemies to try and reach his cover. He poked his head out of cover and opened fire, taking down the two Marines that tried to rush him.

He grimaced as the humans fell, crimson blood leaking from their wounds. Things were just not going well ever since he arrived in this strange world. He had spent hours wandering alone, trying to find out what this was all about. He had finally reached what looked like a UNSC outpost, only to have numerous teams of Marines attacking him on sight, regardless of his protests that he wasn't the enemy.

I have broken my vow, he thought sadly. ''But I have no choice. I do not know why these humans seek to kill me, but I will not allow them to.'' He ducked back just as a sniper round passed in front of his face. These humans had been pushing him back away from the outpost, but he was almost at the tall hills where he came from. Perhaps he could escape and find allies elsewhere. In the meantime, he would try to do as little harm as possible to these humans.

There was an explosion not far off, and broken chunks of wall sprayed him. He could hear the Marines' shouts as they continued advancing. There wasn't much time. He broke from cover, shot one of the Marines, and knocked the other two down as he ran a few metres towards the others and took a burst of machine gun fire before he ducked into an alleyway between two buildings on the opposite end of the outpost.

His shields were still recharging when three fragmentation grenades rolled into the alley. Gutak backed away as quickly as he could, but the force of the explosions knocked him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, and making sure he wasn't injured, ran out the other side.

There were five more Marines here, and they fired at him, but he ducked back into cover behind a storage unit. He looked around but saw no snipers or turrets in the area. Good. It wouldn't be too hard to escape from here. I will have to kill these humans though, he thought, stowing his Assault Rifle away and pulling out his Energy Sword.

Felix-116 heard the gunfire from the hills. It was mostly the sound of MA5s, although there was occasionally the sound of snipers and turrets. Readying his BR60, he ran faster over the hills and towards the distant cluster of buildings. ''It's like someone took a chunk out of a city and stuck it in the middle of nowhere. This is weird.''

He had been wandering the hills when he found what looked like Sangheili tracks. They had led him here, and he guessed that whoever was fighting humans in those buildings was probably one of the "contestants".

He soon arrived at the buildings, and spotted a pair of dead Marines lying in a pool of their own blood. They were riddled with bullets.

"Spartan! Come and give us a hand!" a nearby Marine shouted. "We've got one of the alien bastards on the run! He slipped into that alleyway!"

The game of survival begins, Felix thought. He had been unsure whether the Sangheili he was tracking was an ally or an enemy, but if these Marines were fighting it, then it was probably the latter. That would make it a lot easier for him to kill the alien.

He ran down the short alleyway, coming out the other end to see an armoured Sangheili standing over the corpses of five Marines. Snapping up his Battle Rifle, the Spartan opened fire.

The Sangheili flinched, but recovered fairly quickly and activated its Energy Sword. It lunged at him, but he was able to dodge it, retaliating by firing more bursts into it, taking its shields down bit by bit. It shifted its weight without losing momentum and unexpectedly leaped backwards, slashing at him again. The blades slashed him across the chest, taking his shields down to half and knocking him off his feet. And despite the intensity of the fight, a thought had time to cross his mind. ''Thank goodness for the Mark VII. The Mark VI wouldn't have stood a chance—''

The attack had thrown the Sangheili off-balance, but it still managed to lash out with its other hand and knock the Battle Rifle out of his grip. Felix retaliated by tripping it, causing the alien to lose what was left of its balance and fall to the ground. In one smooth motion, the Spartan pulled the C70 Assault Shotgun off his back and fired three rapid shots into its head. The first discharge of shells instantly took down the Sangheili's shields, the second blowing its brains out all over the ground. Purple blood splattered the destroyed cement, and the alien lay still, its hand still clutching its Energy Sword.

Felix replaced the Shotgun on his back and retrieved his BR60. He checked the five Marines in case they were still alive, but there wasn't so much as a pulse from any of them. He shook his head as he made his way back to the others. ''There are sixty-two of us here. But these Marines don't seem like they're part of this. Are they real, or just created by those teenagers?''

''Hah. Teenagers. This whole thing is bizarre.''

He returned to the other side of the alley, where there was what looked like a UNSC outpost. "The Elite's dead," he called to the Marines.

"Nice job, Spartan!" said the nearest one.

"Where's your commanding officer, Marine?" he asked.

The Marine looked confused. "Commanding officer? We don't have one."

Felix stopped. "Is your CO KIA?"

"No, Spartan. We...never had one."

And that doesn't strike you as odd? he wondered but didn't say out loud. Instead, he asked, "What are you all doing here?"

Again, the Marine faltered. "We're...we're guarding this facility, Spartan."

"Against?"

"Enemies."

This conversation was going nowhere. "What's your name, rank, and serial number?"

"My name is Clint Haverstock. My rank and serial number..." He trailed off.

Felix sighed inwardly. "Don't worry about it, Marine. I'm leaving now, if you don't mind. Unless you boys want to come with me?"

"Sorry, Spartan," said Haverstock. "We have to stay here and guard the outpost."

I figured as much, he thought, walking down the street away from the Marine unit. Although it would be nice to have some backup, he knew that he had to find another participant, someone who he recognized.

A sudden thought struck him. ''Who else is here? What if Jess was brought into this as well? Or Amber? Victor? How could we all make it out of this alive if only one of us will survive?''

''It doesn't matter. If they are here, I must find them.'' Gripping his Battle Rifle tighter, he broke into a run and was soon out of the isolated cluster of buildings.

3
Michael Robson knew from taking many ground missions that he was not alone in the forest. He could discern heavy but careful footfalls and guessed that it was a Sangheili. Checking to make sure that his M28A1 Assault Rifle was fully loaded and had its safety off, he kept walking with just enough noise, making a gradual change of direction that led to the arbitrary "east", where he had found a clearing to rest in earlier.

He had a plan to deal with the probably-hostile, but his heart was still pounding all the same. If the Sangheili decided to attack him before they reached the clearing, he could be a goner. Still, he kept his pace steady, deciding that it was better to avoid suspicion but knowing that the alien was gradually closing the distance between them.

Nico 'Killamee caught glimpses of the human he was tailing. He saw that it was encased in black body armour, and knew that it was one of the soldiers the humans liked to call "Helljumpers". Not exactly a worthy adversary, but certainly a threat.

He knew that he was making a bit of noise while following the Marine, and cursed the fact that for all his combat prowess, staying stealthy was never his strong suit. But if he was unable to stay completely quiet, it seemed the human was unable to hear it. He just continued walking at his normal pace.

'Killamee slowed down slightly just to be safe, and the Helljumper vanished from his sight, but his footsteps could still be heard. The Sangheili continued to follow, deciding to make his move as soon as they were clear of the forest.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped. He stopped walking as well, wondering if the human had detected him. He stood still, scarcely allowing himself to breathe. He listened hard for any more sounds ahead of him, but there were none even after he waited several long minutes. Slowly, carefully, he moved towards where he had last heard the Marine, this time making sure he didn't so much as disturb a leaf.

He stopped just short of a clearing. The human had to be around here somewhere. Was this some kind of trap? He was almost certain now that he had been deliberately led here, and knew better than to step into that clearing—

Something hard landed on him, knocking him over. 'Killamee hit his head against a tree as the thing rolled off him. He was dazed, but he could tell that it was the Helljumper, who was now grabbing at its weapon. The Sangheili's head was still spinning, but he knew he had to move fast. He picked up the nearest weapon that he had dropped, one of his Plasma Rifles, and fired a stream of shots at his adversary.

As his vision focused, he realized that he was firing too wide, and adjusted his aim to face the human, who was now rushing at him, its gun flaring as bullets sprayed him. 'Killamee managed to loose off two shots that failed to penetrate the Helljumper's armour before he was tackled to the ground again, his weakened shields flickering out from the impact.

He heard the click of the Marine's gun that meant he was pulling the trigger, but it was out of bullets. The Sangheili took aim again with his own weapon, but he felt two hands grabbing at it, pointing it at the sky and trying to pry the Plasma Rifle from his grip. It was surprisingly strong for a human.

His eyes still on the Helljumper, 'Killamee grabbed at another weapon on his waist. His fingers closed around his Energy Sword and he activated its twin blades. He twisted, preparing to deal the fatal blow.

The Marine punched him hard in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and causing his swing to miss. It came down on the Plasma Rifle and sliced it clean in two. They both fell back, both clutching half the destroyed gun. The Sangheili regained his balance first, however, and discarding the useless rifle, he moved towards the human, who had fallen quite far back and was still trying to get up.

'Killamee felt the force of the explosion first that sent him flying through the air and landing in a heap next to the Helljumper. Then the pain kicked in, and he could feel the blood oozing out of the numerous wounds the explosion had opened in his back and the back of his arms and legs.

The human was on his feet now, and there was a Pistol in his hand. He pulled back the slide and pointed it at the Sangheili's head.

'Killamee heard a gunshot, then everything went black.

Robson placed his SM6D back into its holster as he stepped away from the Elite's body. His M28 was no longer where he had left it; the explosion must have either sent the gun flying or destroyed it completely. Still, it was worth it, considering that the alien hadn't even noticed when he dropped the grenade behind its feet and backpedalled as far as he could.

Still, the idea of walking around with just a pistol and some grenades didn't appeal to him. He took a Needle Rifle off the Sangheili's back and fired it experimentally a couple of times, amazed that the weapon still worked after being so close to an explosion. Taking a few ammunition cases off his now dead enemy, he walked away from the clearing, now alone.

4
"Nice hiding place you've got here."

Kayla-B261 jerked in surprise and instinctively reached for the M6D next to her. An armoured hand on her forearm stopped her. She looked up in surprise and saw that there was another Spartan looking down at her.

"Hey, relax," he said. "In the real world we'd be on the same side."

"In the real world," she muttered. "Too bad we're currently in the not-real world."

She peered out into the hallway from the crevice she was sitting inside. It was a long passage with only one exit on either end that led to other parts of this empty UNSC facility. She had picked this spot because it allowed her to detect anyone coming in from the other end, and also have herself braced to engage anyone who came in from the door next to her. If things got bad, she could run out the door rather than be pinned down on both sides.

"I was wondering how someone could have sneaked up on me like that," she said, letting go of the Pistol. "Should have known it was another Spartan."

"So let's stick with being Spartans and work together. I'm Basch. SPARTAN-138."

"Kayla. SPARTAN-B261."

"Well Kayla, do you have a plan?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

"Sure," she said. "Sit next to this door and shoot the first thing that comes through it."

Basch laughed. "I got you by surprise, didn't I? Is this how you usually do things, Kayla?"

"No," she said, a little defensively. "I'm a Headhunter."

"So what are you doing cooped up in here?"

"Because I have no idea what is going on. I may be a Headhunter, but I'm not going to stick my neck out if it gets me killed."

"I know what's going on. Do you want me to tell you?"

"Enlighten me."

"Well, I was with twelve others in this weird black room, except it has no doors or windows. And this voice tells us we have to kill each other—"

Kayla glared at him. "Are you screwing with me?"

"I wish," he said. "Anyway, we have to kill each other until there's only one left."

She stiffened. "You want to start on that now?"

"Hey, take it easy. How about we worry about that later and start with the ones we wouldn't usually have a problem with neutralizing."

"Such as?"

"Such as this tall robot guy lurking outside the facility. He looked like a tough son of a bitch, so I decided to go look for some heavy ordnance. I was on my way to the armoury when I found you. You can come with me if you want. Unless you'd rather stay here?"

Kayla thought about it for a moment. "Nah. I'm getting bored sitting in this hallway. Let's take this robot guy out."

5
Demolyn Syrico wondered what strange phenomenon had led him to this land. He knew that this was not the world he was accustomed to, and he hadn't yet decided whether or not he liked it here.

On one hand, it seemed that this place was free from the Necros threat that, as much as he hated to admit it, seemed unstoppable in the world where he had been putting every bit of effort to defeating. That in itself could mean that the beings here could be very well capable of living without the constant threat of extinction.

But on the other hand, there was something very eerie about the world. Although he had wandered far and observed a lot of things, he hadn't noticed any form of civilization. Yes, there were buildings in some places, and there were even people. But they all looked like soldiers, with no purpose other than to survive by their own means. He had seen them killing each other without check.

Is it possible that my brother Vevictus is here as well? he thought with a great dread. ''He would certainly revel in this world. And he would be as always a great threat to those he meets.''

''I must continue to travel the land. I will see if I can find out why the beings here know nothing except war. And I will be on the constant watch for Vevictus. If he is here, then it remains my duty to confront him.''

6
Vevictus Syrico wondered whether Demolyn had been selected for the deathmatch. It would make everything more interesting, since he guessed that no one else would be a match for him. He allowed himself a grin of anticipation. When he had heard the voice tell them that they were to slaughter each other until there was only one survivor, he was immediately interested. ''These voices, whoever they really are...must share my vision of how things should be. This will certainly be amusing.''

He had already found groups of beings and killed them easily. He doubted that they were participants, but it was satisfying nonetheless to exterminate them like animals.

If Demolyn would do if he really was here, he would no doubt protect these beings. Perhaps he would even try to stop the bloodshed and find a way to bring everyone out of this alive.

''Well, dear brother. I really do hope you are here. When I meet you really doesn't matter. Everything around us might be different, but I still await the day when I will find you. And I'm sure you do as well.

''I hope you are here because I would like to see you try to save them. Let me see you try and stop me from wiping every single one of them out.''

You won't.

1
"There it is," Basch said.

"I see him," Kayla murmured. "You're right. That guy does look like a tough nut to crack."

"But let's crack him."

The two Spartans had exited through an exit on the opposite end of the facility of where the robot guy was. They had an array of heavy weapons with them; Rocket Launchers, Laser Rifles, Missile Pods, and a couple of machine gun turrets they had acquired from the armoury.

"Alright, lemme get that thing's attention," Basch said, grabbing a turret.

"Wait," Kayla said, suddenly thinking of something. "What if this thing can help us?"

The SPARTAN-II eyed the black metallic creature hovering on the other side of the facility. "I don't know what it is, and I don't want to take that chance. Besides, we'll have to end up fighting each other eventually, remember? Let's just get rid of some of the competition first." He stepped out of cover and opened fire.

The turret sprayed bullets into the air, scoring several hits on the cyborg. It didn't seem to do any damage at all, but it turned to face him, and began flying towards them at an impossibly fast speed.

"Help me out here," Basch grunted. Kayla snapped into action, holding a SPNKr over each shoulder. She alternated between the two weapons, firing four rockets at the incoming enemy in half the number of seconds.

The thing dodged three of the projectiles, although the fourth missile, which had been fired after a slight delay, managed to curve enough to blast it in the leg. The explosion seemed to have some effect, causing the black cyborg to stagger in the air. She noticed that its armour was now somewhat damaged.

"This thing should be easier to take down than I thought," she said.

"Don't bother reloading," Basch said, still firing at it. "Grab another weapon. What the fu—!" he leaped back suddenly as a long extended claw grabbed the turret right out of his hands and flung it sky-high. To his amazement, he saw that the claw had extended from the cyborg's "arm", from which a long thick cable snaked.

He ducked behind the facility wall as the second arm flew past, barely missing him. "Shit," he panted. "This thing is dangerous. Kayla, take that laser and the missile pod, and follow my lead. We'll keep moving, but be careful you don't fall off the cliff."

"Hey, I'm a Spartan, not an idiot," she said, but she did as he said and grabbed the missile turret after placing the laser rifle on her back. They broke from cover on the other side of the facility, firing missiles at the cyborg and moving along the cliff edge next to the building's rear exit. The launchers had a much faster rate of fire than the SPNKrs, and sixteen missiles were flying towards the cyborg in a matter of seconds.

It seemed to have caught on to their plan, however, because this time it easily moved around array of missiles, causing them to overshoot. And before either of them could react, one of its claws had Basch in its grip. The SPARTAN-II was hefted into the air as the arm retracted.

Kayla had the laser rifle out now, and was aiming it at the cyborg's cable, a thin red line appearing as the weapon charged up. The cable was flailing a bit, but it wouldn't be too difficult a shot for her.

The claw holding Basch suddenly flew towards her at lightning speed, smashing her off the ground before she could blink. Her weapon was knocked out of her hand, and she couldn't hold back a scream of horror as she realized she had fallen over the cliff and was plummeting into the abyss.

Basch saw her disappear over the edge and knew there was nothing he could do for her. He was trying to free himself when the cyborg's arm moved again, this time flying rapidly downward. He saw the ground coming up fast towards his face. Oh shi—

Strifalex Benvora released the dead Spartan and retracted his arm. He had seen this one sneaking into the strange building earlier, but decided to let it go until it came out, possibly with some of its friends.

The other human, the one that had fallen off the cliff, had damaged him. He didn't like that. The damage is not extensive, but all the same...I don't think I should underestimate them like that again.

Whether there were more of them inside the building or not, he decided it was time to leave. ''I see how it is now. I've been brought here because this is a challenge. A game of survival. If that's the case, then I look forward to it.''

I don't intend on having these humans defeat me, he thought as he flew away from the facility. But I hope that at least some of them will prove to be a challenge.

2
Erin Coney checked the Spartan's body over with both technological and old-fashioned methods before accepting the fact that he was dead. She straightened up, wondering what kind of monster had the capability of hurling a supersoldier into the ground with such force. He landed so hard that he had created a three-feet crater in the ground. His armour was still mostly undamaged even from the impact, but the bloody remnants inside the suit had not been pretty.

She didn't recognize him, and wouldn't have even if what was left of his face wasn't pulverized. But she managed to identify him as Basch-138. Strange, she remembered keeping records on a SPARTAN-138, but his name certainly wasn't Basch. Nonetheless, she grimaced at the sight of the corpse. Another dead Spartan.

And why was he dead? She had observed others here—humans, Covenant, and God knows what else—but they seemed to be intent only on killing each other. She even saw some turn against their allies the moment their enemies were dead. It was like a fight for survival.

She felt a coldness seeping into her thoughts. ''How did I enter this world? Where am I, and why have things become so barbaric here?'' For a moment, she wondered if this had something to do with Parangosky; it seemed that everything had some sort of connection to her. But Coney dismissed the thought. Not even ONI would be capable of something like this.

Unless it was all a trick. Some kind of simulation, a test, for...what? What was her purpose here?

''I don't know exactly, but I'm going to stick with what I'm best at. I'll try to link up with UNSC forces in the area, and I'll try to keep us all alive. And if I consider anything a threat, well, I haven't lost my touch in combat yet.'' With one hand on her M6D, she walked towards the door to the nearby UNSC facility. She doubted there was anyone inside, but at least there was bound to be resources that would prove to be useful there.

3
Sona 'Demal instantly recognized the person that was standing at the water's edge. Encouraged by the familiar face, he ran towards him. "Stel!"

Stel turned around slowly. "Do not take another step, Sona."

He faltered. "What?"

The other Sangheili activated the Energy dagger on his wrist and held it in front of him. "Draw your blade."

"Why?" Sona stared at him incredulously, but moved his hand to the hilt of his Energy sword nonetheless.

"This is a fight for survival. And if I am forced to kill my allies, I intend to at least do so honourably."

"Stel! We should be on the same side. We can work together..."

Stel's eyes glimmered. "And how will I know when you intend to turn against me? You could kill me when my guard is down."

"I would never do that. Never."

"Sorry, old friend. But I take no chance here. It is nothing personal." And without another word, he charged, dagger raised.

Sona reacted quickly, activating his sword and in one smooth motion, blocked the attack. Stel didn't let up, following his first attack with another, and another, using both blade and fist in his barrage.

Sona knew his opponent was older, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. Stel was still nimble enough to keep him on the defensive, and come dangerously close to striking fatal blows a couple of times. He focused on blocking the deadly dagger, although a couple of times he felt Stel's fist landing painful blows.

Sona ducked under a horizontal slash, and without losing momentum, kicked the other Sangheili hard in the chest and knocking him into the air. Stel landed on his feet, however, and raised his weapon again.

"You will have to try and kill me, if you intend to live," he said.

"I can't allow myself to do this."

There was pain in Stel's eyes, even though Sona could tell he was trying to appear indifferent. "Then you will die."

Sona braced himself as his former friend rushed at him, readying his Energy sword. ''He's right. I have to kill him to survive.'' The older Sangheili must be getting desperate, because his charge was far too reckless. It wouldn't be difficult at all to strike him down before he even managed to attempt another attack. ''Goodbye, Stel. Forgive me.'' The twin blades came down—

On empty air. At the last second, Stel had feinted, spinning to the side and grabbing Sona's right wrist with his left. Then he raised his right hand again, the Energy dagger flashing through the air.

Sona felt a sharp pain on the side of his neck, and fell sideways to the ground, blood spurting out of him. His sword hilt clattered onto the ground beside him, the plasma blades hissing as purple liquid splashed onto it. His vision was fading, and the noise around him slowly became a quiet, consistent ringing.

He heard Stel's voice from a great distance. "Goodbye, Sona. Forgive me."

4
The sniper rifle's sight danced across the Elite's skull as Bryce-073 tracked the lightly armed warrior's meandering path through the forest. This one didn't seem to be moving with any real purpose, as if he himself wasn't quite sure of where he was going.

Bryce had already stalked and killed several Elites identical to this one. None of them had spotted him in time to even put up a fight. Bryce attributed this mostly to his years of experience of fighting in woodland environments like these, but he had also noticed that the Elites only seemed mildly aware that there might be a threat like him to be on the lookout for.

With a quick sweep of the surrounding area to make sure this one didn't have any friends nearby, Bryce exhaled and pulled the trigger. A sharp crack split the air and the Elite slumped, its head hanging from its neck by a small sliver of skin.

Bryce frowned as he hunkered down inside the discreet nest of dirt and branches he had built for himself. The problem with this kind of fighting was that he had no clue about the rest of the battlefield. He had no map data or reconnaissance that would have made planning a bit easier, and while he was confident in his ability to hide himself he would eventually have to take on some real contestants.

With a sigh, he shifted himself and rose carefully from the nest, sweeping the area again with his rifle. There was no one in sight save for the scattered corpses of the Elites he'd already shot, but that didn't mean there wasn't any danger.

His eyes peeled for any signs of movement, Bryce advanced deeper into the woods.

5
"Alright," Aksel-113 said calmly. The burly Spartan had his battle rifle trained on the smaller supersoldier in front of him, but kept his finger off the trigger. "We can work this out."

"Sorry," the less imposing Spartan replied. The FOF tag flashing from his brown armor marked him as Isaac-B312. "You heard the rules. There's only one winner, and I'm not waiting around for you to shoot me in the back."

Isaac's words hung in the air, punctuated only by the trickling of the small creek at Aksel's back. The surrounding woods seemed to be listening in on their standoff. Aksel was keenly aware that it could be moments before another combatant came out of nowhere and started shooting.

"Ah, that's too bad," he said, eying the sniper rifle Isaac had pointed at his chest. "Because I don't plan on shooting anyone in the back today, or at least, not a fellow Spartan."

"I move faster on my own." Isaac's voice carried no emotion, but Aksel could practically feel the tension radiating from the SPARTAN-III. He was making up excuses, trying to justify what he was about to do. The whole thing made Aksel terribly sad. He didn't know what was worse: dying right here from a sniper bullet or dying slowly as he was forced to kill men and women that, in another time and place, he would have given his life for.

He let out a deep sight. "Alright," he murmured. "Have it your way."

Closing his eyes, he lowered his rifle. "Go ahead and shoot."

The next second stretched into an eternity, but the expected bullet never came. When, after five more seconds Aksel was still alive, he opened his eyes. Isaac had lowered his rifle and was staring at him, head cocked to the side in confusion.

"What are you doing?" the other Spartan demanded.

"I already told you, I'm not shooting another Spartan," Aksel explained patiently. "If that's what I have to do to win, then I quit."

Spartan emotional sigsn were enhanced by the armor they wore, and Aksel could see that Isaac was actually quivering. "This is a trick..." the younger Spartan said uncertainly.

Flicking the safety on, Aksel dropped the rifle and reached for his other gear. "No trick. If you want to shoot, hurry up and finish the job."

Isaac hesitated a moment longer, then sighed and slumped against a nearby tree. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"My point exactly." Aksel bent to retrieve his rifle. "Now, you may move faster on your own, but I like to go it slow. Mind moving at a snail's pace?"

"I thought you said you quit," Isaac said suspiciously.

"I said I wouldn't shoot Spartans," Aksel replied. "Any comrades at all, really. Not for someone's entertainment. But I've got no problem with watching someone else's back, and if that's all it takes to get you to back off you'll definitely need some protecting."

"Fine," Isaac said, defeated. "I don't suppose you know which way to go."

"Towards the shooting," Aksel replied. "Let's see if we can't save some soldiers."

6
"Please," Kenpachus rumbled. "Don't make me laugh."

He wrenched the tip of his sword out of the Sangheili's belly and kicked the dying warrior away. Two more darted down the small village's dirt road, their plasma rifles firing wildly.

Grinning with anticipation, the hulking Jiralhanae charged forward, leaving the corpses of a dozen other Sangheili lying behind him. He brought his blade up to waist height, slashing as he approached the two warriors; they fell in pieces on either side of the road.

Three more Sangheili, these garbed in dirty peasant robes, came at him from all sides, brandishing clubs and knives. It would be an insult to his sword if he dirtied its blade with scum like this. Kenpachus merely waited for their attack and, one after the other, simply snapped their necks with his open hand.

It had been like this for the past hour, nothing but a never-ending stream of hostile yet disgustingly incompetent Sangheili. Kenpachus had enjoyed the exercise at first, but now this was starting to get boring.

A stream of plasma fire struck his armor. Kenpachus turned in time to see another warrior charging towards him. With a shrug, he stepped forward and cut the warrior in half.

Boring this might be, but Kenpachus was alight with barely contained excitement. An entire world filled with nothing but worthy opponents? He could hardly believe his luck. Somewhere, somehow, he had died and been taken up to this glorious place, to fight on and on against whatever was thrown at him until he fell to another's superior skill or stood victorious atop a mound of bodies.

Either result worked for him.

Two more warriors emerged from the small huts around him, energy swords crackling in their hands. They moved together, coming at him with a maddening caution.

"Come," Kenpachus said, readying his blade. "I'll show you what fighting with swords is all about!"

1
Korgus paused and sniffed the air. He searched for the scent and honed in on the scent to make sure he didn't imagine it.

Yes, there it was again. It was faint, almost undetectable under the more subtle scent of metal that encased it, but he had no doubt that he had come in luck. This forest wasn't just devoid of something of interest to him after all. He knew what he had smelled, having become so familiar with it over his years of "experience".

Human.

Justin looked into the distance, very slightly to the right. Something was coming. He couldn't see it or hear it, but he could tell because the constant chirping of birds from that direction had dimmed. That usually meant there was something predatory heading this way. Whether or not it was sapient, it could be dangerous, and he was at the moment unarmed.

He looked around for somewhere to take up a position where he would have an advantage, but all that was around him were flimsy trees that wouldn't hold a Spartan and his suit of armour. I'll use what I have then, he thought, grabbing a large jagged rock off the ground.

Korgus had his Plasma Rifle held in front of him, watching for signs of the human. It wasn't moving very quickly, that was for sure. Perhaps it had set up camp somewhere in the forest. Trying to stay as quiet as he could, he continued to follow the scent, resisting the urge to rush. ''Patience. Soon it will be mine. It will be most satisfying to—''

A sharp stone flew towards his face in a blur, striking him hard in the eye.

Justin didn't waste another second. As soon as the rock hit the Jiralhanae in the face, he dashed towards it, closing as much distance between them as possible before it recovered.

As the alien howled and pawed at its bloodied eye, it fired several shots from its Plasma Rifle. Most of the crimson bolts missed, but a few landed hits that merely took down a fraction of the Spartan's shields. He reached his enemy and gripped the weapon, careful to point the barrel away from himself. The forest echoed with the sound of the gun firing its rounds into the ground, burning away patches of grass between their feet.

The Jiralhanae was now grappling with him, momentarily ignoring its injury. It was much stronger than him, and was slowly causing the Plasma Rifle to slip out of Justin's grip. It opened its mouth and roared in his face.

The Spartan took one hand off the gun and forced his opponent's fingers down on its trigger, while pointing it upward. Bolt after bolt rapidly discharged into the sky. He watched the overheat metre slowly increase as he kept both their hands on the weapon. Just a little more...

The Plasma Rifle stopped firing as it shook and vented crimson steam. Reacting quickly, He pressed the barrel of the gun into the Jiralhanae's hand, who roared as the deadly vapours burned its unprotected palm. Instinctively it let go of the weapon, and in that split second, Justin snatched the alien's Mauler off its side and jammed the bayonet into its already wounded eye.

Its roar was abrupted cut off as the metal blade entered its brain, and it fell back onto the ground, still. Panting, Justin relieved the dead Brute of its Plasma Rifle, and yanked its Mauler out of its head, placing it on his armour's magnetic hip holder after a quick wipe. He decided to take its spiky grenades as well as its long, curved combat knife.

It's a start, the Spartan thought, resuming his leisurely pace, now with a weapon in his hands and just a hint of satisfaction.