Chapter 32: Lone-Wolf

Devotion begets sacrifice…

+“Six… damn it if you can hear this you better fucking answer me!"+

Miyu's panicked voice was muffled to Noble Six, little more than a subdued prickle in his ears as he fumbled his way across the surface of the traveling APC, all of his training demanding that he arm himself before taking preliminary action. And he was not satisfied until he could feel the solid reassurance of the assault cannon. His weapon secured, Noble Six brought it to rest in his lap and grabbed his slackened arm. With a twist, pop, and mild grunt of pain, he crammed the wayward appendage back into its socket.

Utilizing a trick he had learned fighting sangheili special ops units, he increased the sensitivity of his motion tracker and converted his HUD to periodically shift between infrared and thermal imaging as he searched for his would be assailant. After once more hearing Miyu's frenetic request for a response he successfully masked his pain as he replied.

“Engaged with enemy contact… it's something new." He elucidated, again looking down to his buckled armor. Whatever creature that was, it had enough strength to collapse titanium battle plate with relative ease, and he could feel that something might have actually broke inside his chest, given that he had a greater difficulty than before in finding the means to breath. Meanwhile, neither infrared nor thermal scans had yet to reveal anything. Perhaps the aparoid monster had left, but that was considerably unlikely. In all reality, it was most likely regrouping for another strike.

+“Are you okay?"+The feline asked with audible concern, for the moment utterly disregarding this new information.

Doing his best to keep a wheeze from his response, he answered with an, “affirmative. It retreated before I could effectively engage." He paused with an unwelcome sense of hesitation.  “Miyu, whatever this thing is… its fast. Tell Staff Sergeant Bran to cut out all the stops. We need to get to the comms relay as fast as possible." The spartan did not explain that it was because he was uncertain he could combat this creature as affixed as he currently was, atop the personnel carrier.

+“Alright, I'll let him know. And Six… be careful."+

Moments after she spoke the APC roared into action as it slowly climbed to its maximum speed, the buildings around them passing by with greater frequency. The landscape flew into a haze as Six tightened his hold onto the roof of the armored vehicle, bringing around the lumbering barrel of his assault cannon as he locked the servos inside his armor from shoulderplate to vambrace in the hope that it would reduce any recoil that might come as a result from firing the weapon singlehandedly.

With little else he could do by means of preparation the spartan squared his shoulders and hunkered down. Yet, in that moment an idea came to him and the supersoldier shifted. Extracting a rectangular block from within a scarcely used hardcase on his thigh, he inserted the device into a slot located on his lower back, a trickle of code flashing across his visor as his MJOLNIR's unintelligent A.I updated software and reactivated an old system.

It was fortuitous that he finished when he did, as the alternating visor modes in his HUD registered a blurred object hurtling directly towards him from up above at the same moment his motion tracker pinged. Reacting within the span of a nanosecond, the spartan reached cross his damaged thoracic plate and keyed a function in his TACPAD. Instantly his limbs locked into position and the fusion generator within his armor temporarily overloaded, reinforcing his active shields by several magnitudes.

He was not a second too late as the entity careened into his armor with enough force to rock the APC on its axels. However this time, rather than his power suit crumpling, an ear piercing screech assaulted his senses as his foe abruptly learned what it was like to be on the opposite end of its, truthfully, predictable ambush pattern.

Six knew this was an opportunity not be wasted and prematurely deactivated armor lock, with a roar of rage at finally being able to strike back at his enemy he swung the substantial weight of the energy cannon into its side to the satisfying sound of crumpling chitin. A spray of bright blue fluids splattered across his HUD and most of his upper torso as he struck a great wound upon the alien arthropod, the power behind his strike crushing the unanticipatedly weak armoring of the mantis-like creature.

Gloved fingers tightened around the thick trigger and a stream of crimson blaster bolts spewed forth from the gaping maws of the assault weapon's rotating barrels. Retracting his free arm to generate force, he jammed the actively firing blaster cannon into the joint connecting the aparoid creature's torso to the rest of its body. His arm shuddered at the powerful recoil, but with his limb locked together there was no room for the barrel to pitch or yaw. All the same he could feel the reverberation numbing his hand and upper forearm as after a few moments, the back of the aparoid exploded outwards in a shower of fluorescent blood and cybernetics, shooting a torrent of rubicund energy screaming skywards.

The fusillade of cannon fire bisected the corpse and Six watched as the two newly created halves separated and fell of the racing APC, crashing to the asphalt with a wet smack and swiftly vanished as the vehicle sped away. Releasing the trigger and finally bringing silence to his ears, the spartan watched as the trio of tubes from the assault weapon glowed bright orange, a wisp of steam trailing off the device as its barrels slowed with inactivity.

A heavy sigh escaped him as he allowed himself to feel a brief moment of relief.

“Enemy neutralized…"

*****

Miyu only waited till the rear facing access ramp of the APC had lowered enough for her to squirm her way past the opening hatch. In her haste she tripped on a section of the webbing attached to the machine's interior, what was used to keep items from jostling around the cabin going against its function as it caught on the cat's boot and sent her hurtling towards the ground outside. But she hardly made a noise or reacted beyond throwing herself back onto her feet as she raced around the side. Hooking her foot underneath the treads, she twisted herself onto the vehicle's roof with a notable demonstration of acrobatics as she reached the spartan with a plaintive cry.

“Six, are you alright? Did it get you? Where are you hurt?" Her questions fired out of her mouth almost faster than she could articulate them as she kneeled at his side and looked him over, taking no notice of the glowing blue fluid he was covered in. Having grown used to the sight of the older marks on his armor, she looked for any new damages, her amber eyed scrutiny locating the belt of collapsed plating running across his abdomen. The sight slowed her speech and the feline felt a cold jolt run down her spine.

“Does it hurt?" She asked with in a soft whisper as she traced the crumpled titanium with a hesitant paw, her breath hitching when she noticed the thin trail of blood and a strange indigo jell seeping out from the deep laceration in his armor.

By then the spartan had finally acclimated to her hurried inquiry, a low chuckle sounding from his helmet's speakers. “A little… but I'll get over it." He answered as he grabbed her gently by the waist and moved to jump off the side of the APC.

The lynx grinned, allowing him to shift her after growing quite used to his manhandling, but her smile waivered as she felt him stagger as his boots hit the ground. He was schooled well in hiding his reactions and if not for the fact he was carrying her she would have missed the shift in his posture as his left leg met the asphalt.

“Are you sure you're alright?" She wondered with a frown that seemed to have no effect on the spartan as he nodded despite his obvious discomfort.

“It's nothing I haven't felt before." He offered in an explanation that was not as relieving as he might have expected it to be. Yet she couldn't press him on it as the Bran's squad finished disembarking, the badger himself climbing out last, his eyes scanning the broken masonry scattered about the courtyard.

There wasn't much left to the city environment around them, only one or two buildings left standing in any form of reasonable condition. Fortunately, one of them happened to be the comms relay. A battered sign perforated by old detonations and marred with carbon scouring lay only a few feet away, the faded logo advertising for a news station with the name of LNN, a worn slogan faintly readable.

The galaxy's news… today.

The Staff Sergeant brushed a boot across the print, clearing away the dust with an indiscernible expression on the mustelid's muzzle as his gaze pulled away to scan the ruins of a dead city he had once called home. He was frozen like that until one of his squadmates, a male wild dog, tapped him on the shoulder.

Shaken from his reverie, the badger cleared his throat, and after a quite utterance of thanks to his subordinate, raised his voice to carry across the plaza. “Right then, let's get this job done and get out of here. “Ora, Simon, escort the technician inside so he can get to work." As the two selected peeled away from the unit with an unarmored female mouse to head inside, he looked to the large ursine amongst them. “Levi, take second squad and see if you can set up some kind of barricade for the doors. I'll take Quill and the rest of first and scout out the building, maybe set up some firing positions in the windows."

“On you orders, comrade." The bear nodded and gestured for a handful of those present to follow him.

An aura or reluctance pervaded the badger as he looked to the spartan, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of giving him commands, perhaps wondering if he was even supposed to.

“Specialist Lynx and I shall assist Corporal Levi with reinforcing our frontwards position." He announced much to the Staff Sergeant's relief.

“Excellent idea, Sir. Contact me on the comms if anything comes up." Bran advised with a swift salute, the spartan and Lynx watching him enter the building with the rest of his unit.

A silence was shared between them as they lingered, the last to walk away from the APC. Unspoken words hung above their heads, words from one too afraid to voice them, and from another that just did not know what to say.

“Come on…" Six spoke softly, the spartan gently spurring Miyu along with a hand at her back. “We should get to work.

With one concise nod she agreed, following the human supersoldier to the front of the building.

*****

Miyu wondered at why there was such an uneasy air separating them as she helped Six carry the largest sections of rubble to the makeshift firing line they were assembling at the bottom steps of the building.

She hated it, hated that she did not know what happened to turn him back to his silence so quickly after he had returned to normal, or at least what was relative to the word when he was brought to question. She had been so relieved to finally have him back at the start of the mission, the comforting reassurance of his strong personality offering her peace of mind during this stressful time.

She… she hated him, or at times she at least felt as if she did. It was not her fault that he could be so agonizingly irritating that she wanted to tear her fur out.

Why did he make it so hard to love him?

And why was the thought of stopping so unbearable?

If it where anyone else in the universe, she knew she would not have taken the shit she'd been served on near about an everyday basis. Yet when she looked at him, to those distant eyes that never seemed to be focused on the present, and the lines on his furless face etched by hardships she could not even begin to fathom, she knew she could never stop loving him. She found it impossible to blame him for simply being what he had been made to be.

He did care about her, at least when he remembered to.

The spartan was unalike anyone she had ever known in the way he showed his affection. At times he could be cold, distant to an almost criminally immoral extent. And yet at others… the thought alone filled her with a sense of content and security beyond anything she had ever experienced.

There was no shred of misconception about Six, no lies or hidden secrets from those around him. He treated people as they deserved, nothing more, nothing less. Since the first day Miyu had known him he had never lied nor sought to mislead her. He was honest, to a nearly cruel degree. And yet, she appreciated that much about him. The guys who had tried to get in her pants before she met Six were as double handed as they were determined.

Miyu didn't consider herself a goddess, at least not more than any feline had a right to, but her looks did make it difficult to make friends of the opposite gender. There always seemed to be a secondary agenda behind their motives, guided as they were by the head between their legs as opposed to the one between their shoulders.

Maybe that was another reason she liked Six so much. While the fact his sexual interest was nearly nonexistent, which was a little cutting, she at least knew that his appreciation for her companionship was founded on her character and not her feminine properties. And that meant more to her than most anything else in the world.

“You alright, Ma'am?"

The lynx looked to her left to a marine hauling a large hunk of rubble across the yard, the soldier having stopped to look to her with concern. “Yes, thanks for asking." She answered with a somewhat embarrassed smile at having been caught day dreaming.

I swear, Six's brooding is contagious. She mused with some well-deserved internal grumbling. If she didn't watch herself she might end up stricken with the same pensive inclination of the Noble Spartan.

“Alright then Ma-"

Miyu flinched as her vision was blinded momentarily by a jet of hot liquid spraying across her muzzle, the feline faltering back a few steps as she wiped at the slick wetness with a disgusted groan. Opening her mouth to vocally declare her displeasure, the lynx froze at the unmistakable metallic tang of blood coating her lips.

Her eyes flicked wide open as she stared down to her chest, the armor Six gave her drenched heavily in crimson fluid, her shoulders down to her kneepads wholly saturated in gore. A rhythmic crash of steel on concrete distracted her disoriented mind and the feline watched in mounting horror as a helmet bounced into sight, heavy with the weight of the head it had unsuccessfully tried to protect.

Miyu was deafened by a piercing scream that echoed across the plaza, the feline realizing the source of the noise was her own throat. Fear and confusion wracked her thoughts as she stumbled backwards till her boot caught on an errant chunk of stone that sent her crashing to the floor. Her mind was blank, sent into shock by a series of unexpected events. Her actions guided by nothing but abject terror she scrambled backwards, kicking her feet into the ground as she tried to crawl away from the butchered corpse scattered across the ground around her in bloodied hunks of flesh and armor.

Her gaze finally lifting upwards, she grew further confused at the distorted silhouette looming above her, the lynx's stare revealing an abnormal profile outlined with freshly spilled bodily fluids. Whatever it was, it wasn't cornerian, and that was the only prompt she needed as Miyu fumbled for the blaster clipped to her armor, squeezing the trigger in a white knuckled grip as she vented her fear at the apparition with a cry of fright.

Miyu's retaliation - her trigger discipline blemished by sheer panic - sent her shots wide. Though a few did hit as the target was so large it would be near impossible to miss at such close range. Four blaster bolts flattened against an invisible force, burning the blood around their area of impact and forcing a high pitched screech from the unseen target that hit at such a high decibel that Miyu nearly dropped her rifle to clutch at her ears to block out the painful sound.

It was her years of combat experience that ended up saving her life.

The floating drapery of blood shifted, and the feline instinctively flung herself backwards, pitching her rifle up in front of her diagonally, only to watch in shock as her weapon split clear down the middle. The attack continued and carried itself forwards, the feline howling out in agony as the invisible blade carved through her breastplate and dug a shallow furrow into her chest.

Her shout was abruptly overpowered by a deafening roar as a blaze of blue color filled her vision. The sapphire blur collided with the unseen creature with an explosive thunderclap that launched the two combatants hurtling across the square with the reverberation of metal striking metal.

Gasping and clutching her chest, Miyu felt a pair of arms slide underneath her armpits and hoist her up to her feet, a deep and burly voice whispering loudly in her ears.

“Come, we need to get out of here." 

The feline did not answer the voice, now identified as Corporal Levi by the familiar tone and height, as she instead focused on her damaged suit as the ursine dragged her across a field newly alight with the sounds of baster fire, the once empty plaza now swelling with aparoid scarabs, the bugs pouring in from all sides. A deep gash cut horizontal down the center of her combat uniform. Whatever weapon that… thing had used, completely bisected an armor piece composed of several centimeters of some of the toughest metal in existence.

Realizing just how close she had been to death was enough to shatter her stupefied haze, and she was quick to stand under her own power as she swayed unevenly in the bear's footsteps as she beat a hasty retreat to the defensive line that was partially erected. Seeing as she did not want to find herself left behind for the aparoids, the feline fed into her adrenaline, ignoring the ache in her chest in favor of crossing the courtyard in record time.

Slowed by pain and sudden exertion, by the time she reached the safety of the barricade she could only muster enough willpower to pull herself over the waist level wall of accumulated debris, the lynx dropping roughly to the ground on the opposite side with a hiss of pain as she clutched her bleeding chest wound.

“Eva, see to the Specialist's injury." The voice of the Corporal erupted behind her as the bear vaulted into cover only moments after her, the ursine quickly orienting himself to provide his own assistance to the handful of marines in repelling the aparoid swarm.

A strong grip lifted the feline off the ground and set her roughly against the makeshift cordon they had been unable to finish building, and Miyu looked to the imposing mass of Bran's female medic. Yet the canine's bulky paws were deft and tender as she pried apart the broken breastplate to swiftly wash the wound out with antiseptic and bind it with gauze.

As Miyu took in the battered state of her armor, and the fractured chestplate lying in two ruined pieces on either side of her, she felt a pang of guilt. It had been a gift from Six, one she was certain the spartan had worked long and hard on.

With the thought of the augmented human warrior in mind, she cast her gaze down either side of the debris wall, gradually noticing the distinct lack of the spartan's unforgettable profile. Dread quickly set in and the feline moved to stand, ignoring the rumbling protest from the fireteam's physician as she scanned the battlefield with worried concentration, trying and failing to discern the spartan's location amidst the chaos of battle.

The volume of blaster fire issued from the defensive line was thick enough to visibly agitate the atmosphere, the air distorted by the heat transference imposed upon the environment from such a high volume of energy dissipation, as they burned back the veritable tide of ravenous chitin like militarized foresters clearcutting a sentient and hostile field of greenery.

From first glance, there was little reason she could find that they had yet to be overrun. While not as massive as the usual hordes of the aparoid menace, there should have been more than enough present to simply overwhelm their slipshod defiance. Yet if she strained her eyes hard enough she could somewhat see a pattern in the aparoids' movements, much like the current of an ocean as a large portion of their might was diverted outwards for unknown and unseen reasons.

A gruff exclamation directed towards her uncooperative patient, the medic grabbed Miyu by the shoulders and forced her into a semi-reclined position none too gently. Capitulating to the stronger female, but unwilling to give up her search, the lynx peered over the pile of smashed stonework as she called out to the Corporal.

“Where's the Lieutenant?"

“Saving us all from dying I imagine." The bear shouted in an effort to be heard over the buzz of lasers and the constant chittering of the aparoid horde. Gesturing with his rifle towards where she recalled as the place she had been injured by the invisible monster, Miyu followed his indication with her eyes, her heart beating a horrified, monosyllabic rhythm in her chest as she finally found the spartan.

The blue blur that had slammed into her would be killer had been the human supersoldier of her affection. And she could see him now, stranded far inside the churning mass of cybernetic death. Where once the spartan had towered over any aparoid, he now found himself engaged with a creature that surpassed his once intimidating stature, the considerable size of the bony monster shifting about the battlefield with alarming velocity as it exchanged a hurricane of blows with the spartan's equally instantaneous attacks, even as the warrior valiantly fended off the aparoid swarm attempting to engulf him under the sheer weight of their bodies.

It was, for the lynx, bewildering that anything could possibly comport itself on the same podium as her spartan, and a newfound source of fear for his wellbeing as she regarded the visibly fatigued, but relentlessly tenacious human as he railed against such weighted odds.

Her mind erupted with activity as she struggled to find some manner or method of helping him before he would be brought down by numbers alone. She pushed away from the supportive presence of the wall as she sat forwards on her knees, an absent paw brushing across the dry bandaging wrapped around her torso as she looked for her blaster, a weapon, anything she could use to help him where she could.

The shuffle of boots carried her attention to the open doorway of the comms station as a trio of soldiers sprinted out from within, their haste carrying them towards the frontline, the feline watching their movements till she noticed an obscure but familiar shape. There by the steps she caught sight of something, its reflective ebon sheen glinting in the light. Rising to her feet the feline sprinted across the short distance, huffing in irritation at the ebbing ache in her chest and the lack of administrable painkillers. Dropping low once more she examined the object that had grabbed her attention, the female letting out a weak cry of victory at her luck.

The enormous mass of Six's assault cannon rested at the bottom of the stone stairway, the spartan purportedly leaving it behind in his alacrity to rescue her from the jaws of death. Such a remembrance introducing a fair modicum of promptness to her actions, Miyu grabbed it by the carrying handle and gave it substantial tug. Only to hiss in pain as the she nearly pulled the muscles in her arm and exasperated the wound on her chest. To reward her efforts, the cannon shifted half a dozen inches towards the sounds of battle, and she realized that she would never have enough time to drag it over on her own.

“Levi!" Miyu called out for the Corporal's aid, turning to watch as the hefty ursine glanced over his shoulder. Upon seeing what it was the lynx was trying to accomplish, he was quick to vacate his position on the line and rush over.

“Help me get his thing down there."  

Nodding silently, the large bear wrapped his arms around the burdensome dimensions of the heavy weapon and lifted, his muscles bulging at the palpable strain of its encumbrance. Adding her undeniably weaker efforts to his, they were able to get it to the battle line with no little amount of effort and a soreness that would linger for some time if they ever did managed to survive this.

One last grunt of exertion passed through Levi's lips as he dropped the weapon onto the wall section with a sigh, the already damaged stone cracking ominously under the weight. But that was ignored as even when he stepped away, Miyu was already saddling up to take control.

Wrapping her paw around the iron grip, she pulled the trigger.

*****

There was no hesitation once he heard the scream.

Noble Six was in motion the instant he heard Miyu's distressed cry through his auditory sensors, concrete shattering underneath his boots as he lunged forwards, propelled across the field by nothing but pure instinct. There was no tactical deliberation or forethought as he leaped into action, the spartan honing in on her voice with only the desire to protect. In that moment nothing else mattered but her safekeeping. He cared neither for the odds nor the danger, only that she needed him when he was not there for her. A booming noise echoed within the confines of his helmet as he moved, what he came to recognize as his own voice howling seconds before he met his target.

All he saw was a red blur before the impact.

The armoring on his right shoulderplate contorted awkwardly as it met the form of Miyu's attacker, his shields imploding under the incredible strain of their collision. Yet there was nothing but dark satisfaction at feeling the creature fold under the weight of his furious charge, with a piercing wail of agony. Catching it low to the ground, he wrapped his arms around whatever he could get a hold of and applied pressure as he dragged its ghostly figure to the concrete.

Glowing blue fluid splattered across his visor and a wet crunch whispered across his ears as the once firm structuring within his grasp warped as he compressed it tighter and tighter.

Then he was weightless.

It had been so fast that Six was not aware that he was airborne until he had already returned to the ground, armor scarring heavily as its unshielded bulk towed brutally across the battlefield. Moving to stand, a small organism leaped towards him and the spartan deftly caught it mid-flight, crushing its carapace with a dismissive clenching of his gauntlet before tossing away the broken form of the aparoid scarab as he firmly planted his feet. The aerial creature sailed on a precisely calculated trajectory, arriving at its destination with a sickening crack as it punched through the abdomen of another aparoid. 

Utilizing the free moment he had earned, the spartan quickly twisted on his heels to face the real threat.

He could see his target now, the swirling blue and red of mixing blood revealing most of its frame and Six recognized it as another one of those large aparoids that had assaulted him during the APC's journey. The creature wilted to a side, seeming to favor its hind pair of legs as it shuffled irregularly from side-to-side, one of its arms dragging uselessly across the ground, the unusable blade sparking against concrete whenever it moved.

Unlike his first battle, he knew the capabilities of this particular adversary, and if his postulation was correct, its weaknesses as well. With knowledge came victory and he was assured in the prospect of his success.

Studying the chitinous abomination for any sign of movement, he reached across his battered torso armor and unsheathed the curved blade there within, the gritted texture of the handle and the glint of the steel in the light reminding the spartan that he was far from unarmed, despite that he had left his equipment behind. A kukri may not be a shotgun, but it would have to serve him just as well if he was to win this engagement. The muscles that he could still feel after his most recent influx of injuries, flexed and tensed steadily with tensile anticipation for combat.

Half a dozen seconds passed before the world exploded into a conflagration of pandemonium and unmitigated violence.

Movement erupted from his left and the spartan fluidly dropped into a crouch, pivoting on his foot as he shifted his mass to bring about the titanic force of his left greave. The heavily armored appendage plunged through the thin shell of a scarab beetle, tearing a gaping and mortal fissure across its minuscule form. Even as the aparoid suicide unit was expended, Six threw himself forwards, rolling under the inbound forelimb from the great beast that sought to cleave him in half. In that moment he realized that if he were to slow down or stop for even a second, that he would be instantly overcome and brought down by the insectoid throng converging all around him in a heaving, rolling mass of chittering horrors.

As the spartan allowed himself to be carried onwards by his momentum he recalled an old lecture in biology from his academy days, the memory briefly interrupted by the unpleasant noise of an aparoid flattening under his weight after throwing itself below him in an attempt to slow his actions.

Tucking his legs close to his chest, Noble Six catapulted himself skywards. The spartan cleared the height of a two story building with the release of his coiled calve muscles, utilizing those precious seconds to plan as well as retaliate.

The drive of the common ant was much the same as what drove the aparoids. Individually the lower cast was incapable of defeating most threats to the colony, but as a united, guided force they had the ability to overpower creatures and foes many times larger and stronger than any one ant could hope to best alone. And while ants used pheromone trails to coordinate, he did not understand enough about the aparoids to assume the same. Unfortunately all he could really do was keep killing them until their numbers would subside. An all-around unsatisfactory strategy, but truly the only one left to him at present. 

Reaching into the grenade case on his bandolier the spartan extracted a CDF standard issue incendiary grenade, flicking the cap and pressing the button at the top of the device he launched it into the horde below him. With its adjusted timer a mere second passed before it detonated, a swirling fireball engulfing the area around his path of descent for three meters in every cardinal direction. When his boots hit the ground there was nothing near him by scorched earth.

His motion tracker beeped with a harsh, shrill tone and the spartan leapt backwards, a thirty-six inch blade digging a trough across the newly blackened concrete as he created a fairly credible safe zone between him and the still surviving mantis-like aparoid. The abomination must have been close to death, rear legs bent at odd angles, an arm draped unresponsively at its side, and now a full third of the surface area cross its chitinous dimensions was blackened beyond the forth degree. Six was, in all regards, alarmed at its persistence.

This was a creature that would not die easily.

If he possessed more explosives he would have used them there and then to blow it to kingdom come, but that incendiary had been all that was left of his current volatile arsenal. In other words, he would have to kill it the old fashioned way.

But he hoped that the information he had acquired on this particular beast would be enough to give him an edge, one that would be much needed. This format of aparoid was physically strong, perhaps even stronger than he was, but its hide was remarkably susceptible to blunt force trauma. Perhaps that was the drawback for its incredible speed, reduced armoring to allow it to attain absurd velocities. The poison coating its blades was of a kind he remained unaware of, but Six had no intention of discovering its potency today. As long as he remained aware of where its limbs were, and kept the creature within eyesight, it should not prove more difficult to defeat then a peculiarly devious zealot.

As if sensing his confidence, the aparoid reared its head backwards and let loose a warbling screech, the spartan watching in alarm as the swirling throng of trilling beetles rushed in from all directions with an eerie synchronization, much like the ambush from several days ago.

The largest of the alien creatures seemed content in its new place at the edge of the swarm as Noble Six suddenly found himself in the midst of a living ocean of carapaces and bladed limbs. Against such vast numbers he found it difficult to fall back on his extensive knowledge of hand-to-hand combat. No make or manner of martial arts disciplines would give him any advantages in this brutal melee. There was no time for thought or finesse in his movements. He could only react to the chittering, sensory overload fully encompassing his wits.

Parry, strike, counter, displace, a vicious sequence of instantaneous movements that barely kept him from being buried underneath the churning tide of cybernetic entities. Within moments his kukri was awash with luminescent fluid and bits of viscera as it flashed a deadly dance around him, the spartan marching through the rising mountain of shattered corpses in a constant and desperate attempt to remain at the top. His boots sunk deep into the pliable and ever shifting quagmire of bodies, each step a monumental effort as the mire of aparoid cadavers churned and clung to him with each boot he pressed forward.

In the haze of battle it was difficult for him to deduce how much noticeable real time had passed since he had been set upon by the multitudes of his adversaries. Every second dragged with a syrupy slowness, influenced and distorted by his system flushed with adrenaline and his already augmented senses. Regardless of his hyper capability to perceive, analyze, and respond to outward stimuli, he nearly found himself overcome by the sheer quantity of his enemy. Acting now as they were by what he could only assume to be the guided encouragement of a creature he was beginning to categorize as a potential command unit, the aparoids seemed to understand his enhanced biology, acting together to strike with a disturbing synchronicity and apparent awareness of the extent of his abilities.

It was all he could do to keep the swarm at bay as he fought for even a moment of respite to regroup himself and form some battle strategy. Planting his boot into the onrushing form of a particularly altruistic aparoid scarab, he pushed with a substantial amount of his strength to propel the small monster heavenwards, where it smashed into a cloud of aerial targets that had just arrived to the fight, dispersing the pack and crushing several inside with the complete force of its velocity.

With a wheezing exhalation squeezing through his battered lungs and most assuredly broken ribs he finally surmounted the summit, the spartan taking a brief instant to examine his situation, pondering on how to remain alive as he reaffirmed his grip upon the slick handle of his blade. The weapon was sodden with the strange indigo lubricants and fluid that powered these cybernetic beasts.

He was stranded within a veritable sea of adversaries, their numbers beyond what he had time to count but undeniably in the thousands. This was a battle he could not win, not as he was now, injured and bereft of the necessary equipment for a proper retaliation. The aparoids' coordination was beyond anything he had ever seen before, the swarm acting as a singular entity. It was only a matter of time until he would succumb under the pressure. His only hope would be to incapacitate their one advantage.

He cast his gaze past the insect horde, to the lumbering form of the aparoid command unit that stood so superciliously at the edge of the throng, so far from his reach. For him to even have a chance to emerge victorious, that creature would have to die. Yet, as Noble Six scrutinized the obstacles he would have to circumvent, he reconciled with himself in the understanding that this mission would not succeed without sacrifice.

The spartan risked a momentary glance backwards.

Bran's squad was still alive, the team of soldiers mired in a desperate last stand, their only means of transport isolated by the ravenous throng of aparoids vying for their blood. And Miyu, he could see her, injured, but safe for the interim behind the line as she crouched over some object by the stairs leading up to the comms relay. He had done as he promised. He had carried out his duties, kept his vows, both as a man and as a soldier.

There was just one last commitment to honor.

A soft smile drew itself upon the spartan's bloodied lips as he allowed himself one more genuine laugh.

All considering, he had done a fine job with what he had been given.

*****

The triumphant cackle Miyu began to release dried up as the blaster cannon failed to fire, the weapon silent and unresponsive no matter how hard she strangled the trigger. A high pitched, destitute scream of frustration sailed from her lungs as she smashed a fist against the insubordinate device, her assault upon the unfeeling steel as pointless as her wasted aggression.

The issue became apparent within moments; the arming rack for the power cell had been warped by some immeasurable force. The chamber no longer fed energy from the battery into the weapon. Effectively, it was useless without a few hours of technical work.

“Gods damned useless piece of shit, fucking faulty workmanship!" She yowled profanities as she wailed on the damaged machine with blind rage, vowing to find the manufacturer of this particular cannon and skin their hide.

Her anger however was not long lasting and the feline felt a wave of utter despair crash over her.

After all her effort, after all the promised she had made to herself… when Six needed her, she failed.

The lynx slumped her shoulders and fell to her knees in bitter defeat at the recognition that she was, in the end, useless. Her blaster would not be enough to help him, and going out there herself would be the same as offering herself up for slaughter. Turning her eyes away from the broken device, she was helpless to watch as Noble Six charged headlong into matchless odds with fearless ferocity.

She watched as he at last, after all the time she had known him, had finally reached the limit of his capacity. He made several meters progress, carving his way through the aparoid throng, leaving nothing but butchered remains in the wake of his passing before he was, in the end, driven to his knees.  

The scarabs were relentless. Unable to pierce his armor, they simply sought to weigh him down with their combined bulk and gnaw on the armored carapace until they created a breach point. The creatures clamped their jaws onto whatever surface space they could claim on his suit and worked in concert to drag him to the floor.

Miyu cried out for Bran's team to get them off him, to stop this madness, but they couldn't spare a rifle from the defense. The lynx grabbed her own blaster and fired at the abominations that were trying to kill the male she loved, but for every one she billeted with a blaster bolt, another effortlessly took its place.

However, amazingly, despite the mass of cybernetic monster, he centered his grip and picked himself back up, ripping them off his armor as he marched onwards. His blade never stopped moving, not for a second as he forcibly cleaved a path to the end of the swarm.

And just when it seemed like he would fall to the aparoids, just when she thought her heart would break, he reached his goal.

*****

Six grit his teeth, the spartan pistoning his plated fist through the cranium of an aparoid, the arc of his swing and the momentum carrying his gauntlet into two more of his attackers, their shells shattering under the colossal force of his single-minded belligerence. He took another step forward, repelling another dozen scarabs as he fought desperately for each meter gained. His kukri, Emile's Kukri, was broken; the blade lodged in the corpse of an aparoid half a dozen steps back as the UNSC manufactured steel finally caved under the abuse it had undertaken these past weeks. His other weapons had been out of reach when he recognized Miyu's peril, and the spartan already cursed himself for the hundredth time at his inexcusable negligence. It had been foolish to attempt repairs out in the field.

Unfortunate, but entirely inconsequential to his long term goal, he would make do with his fists if he had to.

An aparoid wasp flew low to the ground, so the spartan plucked it from the sky, crushing it in his merciless fingers. The thing burst like an overripe melon, spraying chips of chitin and several liters of blue lubricant that briefly painted the sky with an ugly array of blood and offal, all the while the hordes continued to weigh him down.

He knew by now that his MJOLNIR would most likely be irrecoverable. For more than a decade it had served him well, but now it was enduring a volume of sustained trauma that, quite frankly, it had never been designed to withstand.  At this point it was little more than a broken frame wrapped over his body. The electronics in his HUD functioned only sporadically now, and the shield generator had been cleaved by an aparoid pincer, perhaps damaged beyond the point of recovery.    

By this point, Six was beginning to think the same of himself.

As if by the will of some malevolent god, the list of his grievances came around full circle. Body to armor, Noble Six's injuries were a seamless reflection of the state of his powered armor, near to the point where he was almost physically incapacitated. The spartan found it hard to breathe as he endured the aparoid onslaught. But that was unsurprising considering the presence of rib bone fragments protruding into the soft tissue of his left lung. No matter, as long as he could breathe well enough to fight he cared little. That was a grievance he could ignore, despite its long-term ramifications. He couldn't even muster enough concentration to dwell on anything but his immediate situation. His only complaint was in the difficulty he had retaining focus on the battlefield; no doubt this was brought upon by blood loss. He had any number of lacerations that he could foist the blame upon for his combat hindrance.

But none of that mattered, not his broken armor nor failing body. Only one goal held any importance in his mind, and it was soon approaching. No matter what happened to him this day, that aparoid command unit would die, and Miyu would be safe. He was certain she was trying to contact him right that moment, but his comms equipment had been damaged some minutes ago, the shattered machine parts protruding from a gaping breach in his helmet's casing. Now an annoying buzz of static intermittently plagued his ears.

The spartan beat back the next rising tide of aparoid threats with his clenched fists, his gauntlets clinging to his armor solely by the stiffness of his grip and his stamina fueled by his ravenous desire to know and secure victory, for the cost of defeat was so high that he found accepting anything less to be an impossibility. And just as he entertained the notion he was not strong enough, at the very second his mind whispered that this would be the moment where he defamed the name he had been given at the gates of Onyx… he broke free.

The human supersoldier at last stumbled out from the unremitting throng encircling him, the creatures breaking away in a sudden dispersal as he reached a physical crescendo of unadulterated ferocity, as if the aparoids were stricken numb by his capability for carnage. His fist lunged forwards, yet contacted nothing but open air, and that proved the realization needed to shake him from his vicious stupor.

The sky… he could see the sky again.

The masses of the aparoids had, up till the moment of their withdrawal, swallowed the entirety of his vision, his sight encompassed of nothing but the flailing appendages of murderous insects and the innumerable ovular silhouettes of their hides.

He was free.

For a moment the spartan was almost dumbfounded that he had reached the precipice of the enemy army, astonished that he had actually broken through their numbers after he had begun to consider that as unfeasible. It was a wonderful moment, one that brought to him the faintest murmurs of hope as he looked to the cloudless sky. He could almost imagine the warmth of the sun on his cheek and the soft caress of a passing breeze.

The next instant of clarity brought him nothing but anguish.

His muscles screamed out their agony at being abused so mercilessly. Everything hurt. A pain that burned so harshly, and so violently, that for the briefest of moments, he felt an uncontrolled tear spill from the corner of his eye as his legs threatened to fall out from under him. An unusual sensation wandered across his perception, the feeling as if he was floating. It was quite distracting. Yet the spartan gathered himself and made to move, knowing that he could not afford to collapse now.

He could save her.

Just one last promise left to keep.

He stepped forwards.

The tatters of his once mighty boot touched the cracked concrete, and he faltered.

An unusual sound made itself known to him as he stumbled, an unpleasant squelch that originated from within his leg.   

Noble Six looked down to learn the source of the noise.

The overlapping armored plates on his greave, once bright sapphire and devotedly inscribed with sigils he had intended to represent his affection for Krystal, were heavily layered in a reddish liquid. The cerinian runes that once decorated the steel with cursive and elegant script had been washed away by the continuous flow of blood and hydrostatic gel as the mix of fluids vacated his body in a temperate stream.

The gaze he sent traveling up his MJOLNIR revealed much the same, sporadic tributaries of crimson and blue rivers that emerged from various fissures in his suit to follow pre-prescribed conduits through the broken delineations of his ruined armor. For there to be enough to leak like that, his bleeding must have been catastrophic.

He felt like he was floating.

The spartan processed all of this as he fell, nearly catching himself with the gauntlet he threw out, seconds before his helmet rebounded of the concrete floor. Another fracture traced its way across his already splintered visor, the soldier trying with great difficulty to peer past the fragmented latticework of his faceplate as he picked himself back up.

Just as he sat up on his knees he threw his body back to the ground, a bladed appendage cleaving the air he had occupied only moments ago. Banishing the considerable pain he felt, Six completed his maneuver and arrived on his feet to face the lumbering form of his adversary.

At least the beast did not look any better than he did.

The aparoid command unit still bore the severe injuries inflicted upon it by the spartan, and from its heightened aggression, it seemed aware enough to recognize that he had been the one to hurt it.

Rolling back on his heels to avoid the returning swipe from its weapon arm, the supersoldier tried to draw up a plan to beat his foe. In his current condition victory was uncertain, and Six hated uncertainties. He had no shields and none of the usual benefits from his armor beyond the still partially functioning HUD. With the motion tracker and shield monitor offline, it offered nothing useful.

The world blurred around him and he lost his footing, dropping to the ground as he tripped over a mound of aparoid corpses. Such a blunder provoked a low growl of irritation from deep inside the spartan's throat.

Blood loss wasn't helping either.

Tucking his limbs close he turned on his side, narrowly avoiding impalement upon the giant creature's still functional arm. It slammed its blade so deep into the concrete that it had difficulty in trying to extract the weapon. Sensing an opportunity, Six unfurled his arms and clamped his torn gauntlets around the joint between its cybernetic carapace and the alien alloy. With that as leverage he pulled his lower body upwards and drove his boots into its thorax. They met resistance for only a second before it caved inwards.

He could feel something wet drip from his ears as the aparoid shrieked and tore its arm from the ground in an explosion of fragmented concrete that sent him flying. The flat of the blade smashed into his leg while he was in the air and the spartan let loose a howl of pain as he felt the bone of his kneecap shatter, the splinters digging into the meat of his leg as he flew backwards.

Utilizing his immense willpower the spartan hurriedly forced himself to stand as the hulking, hazy figure of the aparoid behemoth rapidly approached him, releasing another earsplitting scream from behind its agitated mandibles as it charged him blindly head on.

Six knew as he watched it barrel heedlessly towards him, focused only on killing its prey, that he only really had one shot at taking it down. He was crippled, his vison had been impaired, and with his armor essentially forced offline under incredible duress, it only weighed him down. Meeting it on an even footing would be impossible. He needed to let it come to him

Noble Six braced himself as the creature smashed into his body at full velocity.

His world darkened as he felt everything in his torso break, his stomach voiding the entirety of its contents on forced reflex as his chest cavity imploded upon itself. His vision had finally abandoned him, the rank stench of stomach acid and partially dissolved food burning his nostrils as slimy fluid polled in the recess of the protective seal around his neck. Despite the compound and devastating nature of his damages, the spartan didn't lose consciousness, even when his mind begged for a reprieve from the agony, and his body wanted to die. He wouldn't allow himself to surrender to the bliss of the void. He was a spartan, one of humanity's finest warriors, bred for the purpose of waging war and unable to accept defeat. Death was the only loss he found acceptable, and he had no intention of dying before kept his promise.

There was one guaranteed emotion that could block out pain.

Everything was washed away, his agony, his fear, even rational though in favor of the blazing, blinding rage that propelled revitalizing energy coursing through his veins. He would see this abomination die by his own hands.

The spartan slammed his boots into the ground, stunting the aparoids momentum with a unexpected squeal of surprise from the cybernetic being as he wrapped his arms around the massive beast's torso… and lifted. He could feel his deltoids, already sore and tired, rip themselves apart as he elevated the titanic aparoid from its firmly planted stance on the floor, his chest a swollen and throbbing hurricane of indescribable agony. And, at the pinnacle of the elliptical arc, he brought the full encumbrance of the creature and his rage driven strength screaming back down to the courtyard's concrete with a colossal roar of exertion.

The result was spectacular.

Its chitinous carapace, unusually brittle, shattered when it was brought careening into the concrete floor of the plaza with a stunning discharge of fluorescent azure fluid and great hunks of flesh and metal. Most of its outline had been broken apart by the impact, and the remains of the aparoid soaked in a growing mire of lubricating fluid, meat, and machine parts.

Noble Six had wrought such devastation upon its form that he could only believe it to be dead.

A great wail reverberated through the air after its death, and the spartan watched from his fatigued genuflection beside the broken husk of a corpse as the aparoid host set upon itself like a pack of starving beasts in an orgy of mindless violence. Had he been of enough cognitive presence, he might have wondered at this development, though he did possess sufficient awareness to realize it had something to do with the death of the aparoid command drone, the one event transpiring almost instantaneously after the other.

Fascinating…

A grunt of surprise erupted from his lips as he felt an intense pain in his torso, His kneeling form physically manipulated, his face was shoved violently into the ground as a blade punched through the battered plates of his MJOLNIR and sliced through his pulmonary artery. The appendage was loosely connected to the lifeless form of the aparoid he had killed, its body performing the last nerve led act of revenge from the cybernetic abomination.

He tried to speak, to curse the creature that, even in death, had managed to get the last blow in, but when his lips pulled apart the only thing to leave his mouth was a gushing rush of blood that gradually pooled within the closed confines of his helmet.

The spartan's extraordinary reserves of strength and focused resolve… depleted.

Noble Six collapsed. His broken and bloodied form motionless,

His immovable figure was largely ignored during the frenzied slaughter. The efficiency of the aparoids' previous, guided coordination now suited itself as their Achilles heel, the alien swarm ripping each other apart with an impressive speed that was only rivaled by their machinelike tenacity. There was no telling how far the effects spread, but to any survivors of this battle, they hoped it had killed them all.

Within minutes not a single cybernetic creature was left alive, their leaderless aggression ensuring that nothing of the same species survived.