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The Haunting of Block AC417-F

Block AC417-F was haunted. Everyone knew that. Well, all of the rest of the Rats knew that, at least, and Harriet had never really gotten around to asking them how they knew. It was just a thing that was known, that was accepted, that was constant - like how the sun rose each day, how the tap water in her flat always tasted of metal, how her mam always dusted down the blank, empty holoframes every day, even though they had been dead as long as she could remember. Her family was just like any other on this dustball, at least as far as she knew - and the idea of worlds beyond this one were nothing more than far-off dreams, fairytales about how her parents had roamed between the stars once; how she had, too, for the first few precious years of her life.

She dismissed those stories as casually as she dismissed the laughter of the rest of the Rats when they thought she was out of earshot. Sure, she was a kid, but so what? She was just as good as any of the rest of them, and today was her chance to prove it. Plenty of them had talked about planning, trying to explore Four-Seventeen-F, but none of them had had the guts to do it so far! Well, that was hardly for want of trying. She knew that Jacks had been making plans to, or at least thinking about it - well, if he hadn't been, then she wouldn't have been able to pinch his makeshift grappler, would she? She wouldn't be scaling the side of the block, scampering between ledges, climbing rusted fire escapes and shaky scaffolding left behind from maintenance projects forgotten long ago. Here and there were she could still find scraps of the life the building had once held - toolboxes jammed shut with dirt, their mag-lock keypads cold and dead; ventilation units and security cameras still, silent, gummed up by dust and cobwebs. She wasn't particularly worried about the latter, though. They hadn't moved in the long hours it had taken her to get here and climb up this high

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Biographical Information


Harriet McVey


"Moz" (Callsign)


Jan 11, 2538



Physical Information




6'7" (in armour)

6'1" (out of armour)


96 kg

Political/Military Information


  • CQC
  • Urban Mobility, Reconnaisance
  • Piloting





(Gamma Company)


Team Kalis (former)

Team FORTUNE (current)




Harriet McVey, known primarily by her service tag Hari-G055, is a SPARTAN-III supersoldier of Gamma Company, who served in the final year of the Human-Covenant War and into the post-war years. While her promising individual performance in her early years marked her as a promising candidate for transfer to more specialised training, the competitive streak responsible for it was seen as a potential liability, and instead she continued training with the remainder of the Company. While deployed too late to see action in the Fall of Reach, Hari and her team, Kalis, were diverted towards Sol, arriving in time to see action in numerous battles in the Asia-Pacific theatre of the Battle of Earth, although this exacted a devastating toll on the still-green Spartan team.

Following the armistice and the end of the war, Kalis was disbanded, ostensibly due to the casualties suffered in the numerous battles towards the end of the previous year. While some of her surviving team members were swept up by ONI, Hari herself was bounced between a number of low-risk postings by Spartan Branch, before eventually being paired up with another former ally and transferred to the Category-II Spartan Team FORTUNE.



Main article: The Haunting of Block AC417-F

Harriet McVey was born on the 11th of January, 2538, to a pair of relatively wealthy interstellar traders. Nominally resident on the major port world of Alluvion, the couple often drifted between worlds, delegating the day-to-day running of their company to others and dealing with the bigger picture from the bridge of the cargo ship they had used since the earliest years of their business. For the first few months after Harriet's birth, they were content to continue this practice; thoughts of when and where they would settle down were far off in the distance, and there was always one more run to be done before then.

However, this world of reasonable comfort came tumbling down within the year; the shipping company and its assets were seized under UNSC emergency law for use as troop and materiel transports, and with the token sum they were given the family were forced to settle down on the inner colony world of Meridem. With almost nothing left to the family name, Hari grew up on the densely packed streets as a city rat, soon picking up a particular talent for navigating her way around the walls and roofs of the run-down housing blocks. In spite of this skill she was still often derided as the runt of the group given her age - and in return, her resentment grew into a drive to prove herself to them, to be just as strong or fast or smart as the bigger kids. Unfortunately, this, too, would be denied to her - when a Covenant force arrived in the system, there was little her or her parents could do to get through the panicked, chaotic crowds surrounding the handful of UNSC evacuation transports available. Instead, a few contacts and final favours called in allowed her parents to secure her a seat on a small, barely slipspace-capable cargo hauler out of the system, and she would eventually be picked up by ONI at a refugee processing facility and acquired for the SPARTAN-III programme.


Service History

Upon arrival at Onyx, Hari was immediately

Early Deployment

Battle for Earth

Main articles: Danger Close and Another Night on the Town



Personality & Traits


Physical Profile

IRONSIDE-class MJOLNIR Shapeable energy shields? Forerunner signature bafflers? Twelve fuckin' AIs? Look, boss, kick out all these crutches and a suit of armour still needs to be a suit of armour - and if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you can’t hack a quarter-inch of Titanium-A." IRONSIDE-class Mjolnir is a variant of MJOLNIR Powered Assault Armour [GEN2] developed and produced by Hannibal Weapons Systems. Originally developed as a simpler, stripped-down design for ease of manufacturing and training, it later saw usage in contested electronic environments, where more sophisticated designs were hobbled by interference and jamming.


Early Concepts

As the expanding Spartan-IV programme began to draw on more and more recruits, a logistical problem swiftly presented itself; much of the industrial capability and design expertise behind the existing GEN1 Mjolnir suits had been lost or destroyed in the Siege of the Inner Colonies, meaning that new Spartans were being augmented and trained without armor for them to wear.

In Which Alaska-013 Possibly, But Probably Doesn't, Die.

The mess hall was filled with ODSTs and Marines gathered around tables; eating, talking, resting. Through the din, one voice - old, worn, raspy - cut through the others.

"Well, you can call me an old bastard, but they don't make 'em like they used to." He gestured down at the reheated portion on his plate, pausing to let a laugh ripple around the table before he continued. "No, I mean it. Even Spartans, y'know? The first batch we all figured were freaks, probably grown in a tube in some ONI lab somewhere - but these lot are more... helljumpers with implants and titanium-A bones. They’re all hard talk and bravado, but I've seen more of a few of them getting tossed around like the rest of us. Don't mean to talk them down, but... well, you know, maybe the others are just a better vintage."

He glanced around, watching the young faces of his table-mates, and cleared his throat,

"Now, I know you’ve heard stories 'bout the first Spartans. If I had money, I’d bet you’ve all, at the very least, heard of the Chief - and if not, I’m gonna have to ask my CO when we started recruiting folks who lived under rocks. There's stories that've been going around longer than some of you lot have been alive, though. Some that stick with you more than others."

"So, how many of you kiddos have heard 'bout a certain Alaska?"

Spartan Ruiz cleared his throat - sounding a little hesitant, even awkward, over comm. "You, uh, you guys hear that?"

The other two members of Team Heads paused, instinctively; their weapons raised, their eyes scanning the burnt-out city around them for long, tense moments.

"Nothing." Yenko let out a sigh, eyes rolling behind his polarised visor. "You just hearing things, or should I go fetch a Grizzly to scare these Innie rats out of their-"

-and he froze. His suit did, at least - inside, all he could do he could do was glance down at the armour restraint attached firmly to the chest plate, locking him in place.


A sizeable group of ODSTs, Marines and even the odd brave sailor had gathered around the table where the scar-faced man sat, now listening intently to the tales being told.

"...hell, I think I still can't tell ya about most of what happened, but that’s probably for the better. Aleria, though? That was one helluva mess. Me, the rest of my team, we were dropped in to push back the split-lips, and we had about as much luck as there is air in space."

He paused for effect, watching the reactions of the younger troops around him, the faint outline of a wry smirk growing on his face as he watched them rapt with attention.

"We'd made a little progress, pushing down to the old spaceport, when this massive Brute Chieftain showed up. Must've been, what, ten feet tall? Twelve? However big he was, the bastard shrugged off MA5 rounds like rain - me, I thought we were dead men walking 'til something tackled the damn Kong, slammed it to the ground." Another pause, the veteran Helljumper gesturing as if coming around to the punchline of the joke. "Alaska, of course."

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