Halo:Oedipus

Halo: Oedipus is a novel set within the Against All Odds fanverse, revolving around a secret UNSC project to train a new generation of black operations soldiers.

Prologue
The ONI agent fed the parameters of the project into the computer in front of him, then sat back and waited for the machine to spit out the results. Whenever some branch of the UNSC proposed an operation or a project, the general parameters of the proposal were fed into a program that kept track of all the projects, secret and open, that the UNSC had run or was running. It also provided each with a name. Sometimes these names were based on the project's goals- the SPARTAN supersoldier program was one such example- ,but at other times, the nams seemed completely random, like naming a proposal for redecorating military prisons in the Sol System TYRANNOSAUR.

The machine beeped, indicating that the proposal had been registered in the system and named. The agent leaned forwards. Slowly, he grinned.

"Oedipus, huh," he murmured. "Makes sense."

Over the next three weeks, five hundred UNSC servicemen and -women vanished. There was no correlation between the soldiers- they were drawn from all branches of the UNSCDF, with no two being taken from the same unit. Their records were systematically erased, and their commanding officers were informed that the soldiers were being used for a black operation, one that could very well cost them their lives. The chosen few had little to no family left, and those who did hadn't seen nor heard from their relatives in years. No one asked any questions, and no answers were given. The five hundred simply disappeared.

First Sergeant Cameron Harding, UNSC Marine Corps, filed slowly into the large auditorium along with what seemed to be a completely random mix of UNSC servicepeople. Everyone wore their dress uniforms, complete with decorations. Looking around, Harding saw no one who didn't sport a dizzying array of color that was enough to make one think they'd had fruit salad spilled on them. Hardly any officers, either, he thought, eying the ranks of those around him.

He estimated the crowd to be around five hundred people, and confirmed that by counting the chairs in the room. Twenty rows of twenty-five. He took a seat in the thirteenth row, thirteenth from the left.

At the front of the room stood a man, wearing clothes that, while not a uniform the Marine recognized, were too severely cut to be civilian. Apart from a general's stars, he wore no identifying insignias and was of average height and build. He waited until everyone was seated, then began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to your new life," he began. The crowd was too disciplined and professional to start talking, but Harding knew that everyone, including himself, was wondering what the man was talking about.

"Please, remove your IDs, decorations, and all other identifying marks from your uniform and place them into the disposal units in front of you." As he spoke, the back of each chair opened to allow the objects to be disposed of.

This command brought a slight murmur, but that was soon outweighed by training. The hall was filled with a rustling as soldiers removed the objects and threw them into the disposal units.

Soon, the hall was quiet again. The man nodded, satisfied. "From now on, your past life is dead. You will choose a new name. You are all parts of an elite unit crossing into every branch of the UNSC. Welcone to Project Oedipus."

Someone near Harding whispered, "What, they'll teach us to kill our fathers and screw our mothers?"

The general turned slightly and looked directly at a man in the row behind Harding. "No, that's not what you're here for," he said.

"This is where we teach you to kill kings."