[achtung]

I sure wish I knew who Paxton Fettel was.

[Singh]

I sure wish I knew who Paxton Fettel was.

SPOILER!

Spoiler:

Paxton Fettel
Alma Wade

[Rampage]

Good story, Singh!  I leik.  I leik.

As the figure emerged from the fog, one could clearly make out that it was male. Wearing a red shirt and a black jacket over it, the man looked ahead at the door way. He stopped for a moment as the lights came on around him, and then flickered and died once more.

Paxton Fettel's expressions grew into that of a rather evil smile.

Recommendation: This may not be the best time to reveal Paxton Fettel's name (I think the description presented above should suffice - also mention that his vest was blood-stained), as none of the present characters have been introduced to him by name yet.  Keep him anonymous for now, and let another character introduce him, perhaps through the usage of a vision.

- Rampage

[Singh]

Good story, Singh! I leik. I leik.
Recommendation: This may not be the best time to reveal Paxton Fettel's name (I think the description presented above should suffice - also mention that his vest was blood-stained), as none of the present characters have been introduced to him by name yet. Keep him anonymous for now, and let another character introduce him, perhaps through the usage of a vision.

- Rampage

Well, it's already out now, so I'm afraid its a wee bit too late for that...

Edited in the blood-stained shirt into the master copy, though.

[achtung]

Well if you'd played FEAR wouldnt you already know?

[Rampage]

Well if you'd played FEAR wouldnt you already know?

True.  But it's to provide the reader with suspense regardless of his standing w/ FEAR.  And it helps the story flow better.  It's not a huge problem, so don't worry about it.

[Grug]

Nice work Singh.
I'm still following along this story.

[Singh]

Thanks. Next part's short, but done.

******

They approached a set of doors, having run through various corridors for a few minutes now. Sadhal stopped just in front of them. They didn't open. He moved to the panel to the side and mentally cursed.

“The Intruder alert is in place. The lift wont move without authorization from the bridge.”

Sadhal said to the Demon, deciding what exactly to do next.

He then placed his hands in the seam of the door, grunting as he pulled it. Within a second the Demon's hands were also in the seam, and pulling the other side. It slowly creaked open, revealing a dark and dim shaft beyond.

The shaft was empty, for the most part. Looking down, Sadhal saw only darkness in the decks below. Alma must have shorted out the lights on those decks. Looking up, he again saw only darkness. It appeared the entire system was down for the most part. Still, he kept a sharp ear out for the elevator in case it appeared. There was no telling what could happen, judging from what Alma Wade was capable of.

He took a carefull step to the edge, and looked to the side. Several rungs were built into a small niche on the side of the elevator shaft. Moving along the edge, he reached out and grabbed one. Glancing back, he spoke to the Demon.

“There is a set of rungs to the side. We will have to climb up several decks.” The demon only nodded in reply and followed him.

Grabbing the rung, he pulled with all his strength and hoisted himself onto it, swinging out from the side of the elevator. He climbed up slowly, looking up. The higher decks were also shrouded with darkness, the only light coming from the deck they were on now. Fortunately, they wouldn't need to grope in the dark from the shaft, as the internal open controls overrode the intruder lockouts most of the time.

Climbing up, he glanced down as the Demon did the same as him, although with greater difficulty. But he managed and soon was right behind Sadhal.

Such perserverence had to be admired, and Sadhal couldn't help but imagine the Demon making a fine elite, or commander for that matter. In either case, he looked up and continued to climb.

A minute later, Sadhal had made it up to a platform next to the doorway. It was a small niche that allowed for repair of the lift systems, which were located towards that side. It was simply a narrow corridor that wrapped around a pillar and circled around to another set of rungs that led further up.

Sadhal stepped onto the platform, and turned around. The Demon was right behind him and was approaching the platform as well. Sadhal went down on one knee, reaching down to help the Demon up.

That was when a massive roar ripped through the deck they had just left, sending a shockwave through the lift door and then through the shaft. The entire ship rocked, as if hit by something massive, and was soon followed by a loud explosion.

The floor underneath jerked and Sadhal immediately lost his balance, tipping forwards over the edge. He fought with gravity, hanging there for a second and trying his best to lean back. He nearly caught his balance back and was about to pull himself onto the ledge, when something pushed him, however.

He didn’t know exactly what it was, or where it came from, but whatever the force was, it was just enough to tip the balance over to gravity, causing him to fall off. Reaching out for the nearby wall to balance himself was useless, as   

His body tilted over the edge and gave in, falling off. Sadhal flailed his arms out, hoping to catch the rung of the ladder as he cried out in surprise. As he fell by, within the blink of an eye, the Demon’s arm struck out, and caught his hand just as he fell by.

The Demon grunted as he picked up the weight of the heavy elite, and for a second, it looked like the Demon would not be able to hold him. But the grip stayed firm as Sadhal looked down at the inky blackness below. He hung there for a second, and then started to reach for the rungs.

That was when he heard the cracking.

Glancing up, he noticed that the Demon wasn’t paying much attention to him, but was instead staring at the wall in front of him. Sadhal looked at what he was staring at, and in turn, simply stared in disbelief.

The wall where the ladder rungs were began to crack, slowly. From the cracks closest to the platform Sadhal had just been on, a red substance began to trickle out. Judging from the color, it seemed to be human blood. The blood continued to spill, moving impossibly fast through the many cracks and crevices inside the wall.

Then, just above the Demon’s head, it once again defied physics. The blood trickled sideways, up and then down again, following a series of seams that suddenly formed inside the wall from nowhere. Both of them watched as the curves soon began to form and take shape in that of a number – a human number. 084.

“Fhajad…” the Demon whispered, in shock and awe at the same time.

All this had happened so fast, that neither had time to truly react to the situation. This was especially true when in the next moment, the rung which the Demon was clinging to suddenly creaked, and then gave way along with the entire section of the wall. Sadhal began to fall as the Demon fell backwards along with the rung.

But the Demon’s arm immediately let go and reached out for another lower rung, grabbing it. Sadhal lurched to a halt, a death grip on the Demon’s hand.

The Demon looked back down to Sadhal. “Hang on!” he said. But as he was doing this, the rung he was holding onto creaked and fell off completely, unable to support the sudden weight placed on it.

He was unable to recover his grip, as gravity took over and he fell off the ladder. And then both plunged into the darkness below.

********

At the platform where Sadhal had just been standing, along the wall, there was no blood, no cracks that had led to the number appearing. Rather, there was a shadow, one cast by an individual now standing on the platform.

The person’s face and body was cast into shadow of the small lights that had been behind him, but one would clearly be able to make out where he was looking, and the smile that formed on his lips.

He then looked up the shaft, at the darkness above. He then took a step forwards and once more disappeared into ashes.

[Grug]

Keep it going dude.

[Deepblue]

Creepy stuff...

[Deepblue]

Oh, a couple other things that bug me a bit. You keep referring to Spartan 117 in pain, however, after injury his suit injects him with a cocktail of drugs to dull the pain and allow him to continue unhindered. Then there's the fact that you have a Spartan and an Elite working together like the best of teams despite the continuous war against humanity and John's personal witness of civilian massacres. While you can make the excuse that the truce is forced because of the threat of Alma, to make the story seem more natural you will have to deal with these underlying tensions at some point.

Great writing though, keep it up!

[Singh]

Oh, a couple other things that bug me a bit. You keep referring to Spartan 117 in pain, however, after injury his suit injects him with a cocktail of drugs to dull the pain and allow him to continue unhindered. Then there's the fact that you have a Spartan and an Elite working together like the best of teams despite the continuous war against humanity and John's personal witness of civilian massacres. While you can make the excuse that the truce is forced because of the threat of Alma, to make the story seem more natural you will have to deal with these underlying tensions at some point.

Great writing though, keep it up!

Considering the fact that the suit's pretty much smashed and dented all the way in to his ribs, it can be explained somewhat by malfunctions in that particular affected area.

The truce's not only affected by Alma; but the fact that John can't effectively fight an Elite at this stage as he would normally. Although tensions are clearly there; we see John working to some degree and co-operating with the Arbiter in Halo 2. One could also easily extrapolate that he's making use of the civil war in it's entirety to gain the temporary upper hand, especially after seeing the fighting between the Elites and the Brutes. Having any ally - even if it IS an Elite - against the brutes and the prophets = greater chances of mission success. This issue will be dealt with towards the end of the story, however and there is something planned for it, so dont worry

[Singh]

The Brutes gathered in the corridor, just behind the force field, with the Chieftain near its edge. To the side one of the brutes was near a control panel built into the wall. Almost all were talking to each other in low murmurs, making a significant racket in the corridor.

The Chieftain’s expressions turned to one of anger as he barked out a set of commands.

“Quiet down you imbeciles!”

With that, the rest of the group stopped and looked directly at him.

He nodded and continued.

“All contact has been lost with the lower decks, and the Demon roams there. Find him, kill him. Standard groups of three – use the human’s own weapons if you need to.” Some of the brutes raised the shotguns they had salvaged from the human’s wreckages. It had become a popular weapon amongst the Brutes, providing a significantly large punch in close-range combat, similar in power to the Elite’s plasma swords.

He continued on, ignoring them.

“Two teams to check out the cell block. I want to know how much damage we have there. If you see any prisoners there, kill them. Nobody returns until the Demon is found and killed. The comm. Network is down, so we will do a slow search, each team within the sight of another.”

Turning to the Brute next to the panel, he nodded. It was almost time, and the prophet would not be patient.

“Lower the force field.” He commanded.

But the Brute didn’t respond. Instead, he was staring at something past the force field, and pointing to it. Frowning, the Chieftain turned around to look at it, only to find…….nothing.

Well, nothing but some ashes anyway, but that was probably the result of equipment malfunction. He turned back to the Brute and hit him on the head, roaring a curse.

“Do not delay any longer! Lower the force-field.” 

The brute snapped out of it, but shook his head.

“No, there was something there, I swear!” he protested.

The Chieftain looked at the rest and growled. “Did anyone see anything?” All the brutes shook their heads.

He turned back at the one at the control panel and gave a low growl. He didn’t reply, instead only moving to the control panel and quickly lowering the force field.

“Power is being re-routed, standby. Shutdown in 30 seconds.” He said, simply.

The Cheiftain didn’t reply, and instead only looked at the rest of his troops. They were staring at him, for some reason. He frowned and shouted, angrily “what are you all staring at?”

Then he realized, they weren’t staring at him, but rather something behind him.

Turning around, he again saw nothing there. Only ashes, and that also he could see some of it seemed to be spilling from the ceiling. He cursed and growled. What the hell was going on with this group? Were they all that incompetent?

He checked the timer and saw twenty seconds to go. Well, it would be over soon and they would get to searching. They would find that Demon, or they would die.

Unfortunately for the Chieftain, only the latter was about to happen.

*******

Paxton Fettel’s footsteps rung out loudly through the quiet corridors as he walked onwards, slowly and gracefully. Occasionally, he would stop at a corridor junction, to slowly glance behind him, and to look around.

He seemed to have no aim, no particular goal to where he was going. At times, he would call out for Alma, softly, and seemingly to nobody in particular, before moving on. Occasionally, he would disappear completely into ashes, only to re-appear in another corridor in the opposite direction, as if spotting something and then doubling back.

This continued for a while, till he was where he was now: standing at a junction, that led to a corridor behind him, and several rooms to the other sides. In the centre was a mirror. He paused in front of it, studying his reflected.

Then he smiled, and began to speak in a low voice.

“I can feel you, friend…there is no need to hide.”

“Indeed.”

A voice spoke up from behind him. A figure stood in the corridor. It was the soldier that had been in the cell earlier. Blood covered most of his uniform, with exception of the right leg, which had a flood infection form attached to it. The soldier’s expression was not visible through the gas mask, but one could feel the changes that had happened to his body, through the sound and tone of his voice, which was far, far different than what it had been.

Paxton didn’t turn around. Instead, he continued to look at the figure through the mirror, and continued on.

“It’s been a while, I see.”

“Yes…..too long.”

The soldier moved closer, but still, Fettel didn’t turn back.

“I trust you have used my gift well.” He replied.

The soldier didn’t reply. Fettel went on, anyway.

“Still stubborn, I see. How many thousands of years, and you still haven’t changed one bit. Little wonder you were left behind.” He gave out a slight laugh.

“Your words about my state may be true, but that still doesn’t change the fact I am here because of you.”

Came the reply.

Fettel frowned. This time, he turned. The expressions on his face changed, to one of anger.

“I see you have a puppet for your use, why – are you too afraid to meet someone you have denied in this reality?” The soldier continued.

“Look who’s talking.” Fettel replied his tone taking an icy demeanor.

“At least I have an excuse of being elsewhere. You on the other hand….are everywhere, yet you refuse to show yourself to us.” The soldier interjected, as he walked closer to Fettel.

“I am everywhere, yet I am nowhere. You know that. I know that. It is the only reason you are here, in fact.”

Fettel replied, his facial expressions still a frown, he stepped forwards.

“This little meeting has been entertaining, old friend. But my task and my job still call for me.”

“Not till you give us what we want, what we have asked and begged for all this time.” The soldier replied.

Then, in a flash, his expressions changed again as he smiled. “Oh but my friend. I already did.”

With that, he stepped forwards, and disappeared once more into ashes.

The soldier roared in denial as he did so, jumping forwards in a massive leap, and passing through the air where Paxton had just been standing.

Not finding anything, however, he just looked at the mirror for a second and spoke, to nobody in particular.

“We will have what is ours.”

With that, he moved off.

[Deepblue]

Short and scary.

[Singh]

The world was filled in pain and blackness. Yet what surprised him more was the fact that he could still feel that pain, and the fact that it was dark. Yet, it pressed on him, invading his soul and forcing him to stay in it. The pain was from nowhere yet at the same time, anywhere. His body did not ache, for simply, he ached in his entirety, starting from his body, to his very soul.

His mind was awash with thoughts, memories of the past. Memories of those he had left behind, and those he could not rescue. The memories...the pain – it was the worst kind of torture he had seen, and yet, it seemed like he was doing it to himself; his own guilt blasting his mind to bits. It was undescribable in every sense, and one that overloaded the Spartan's mind almost completely.

Some of the memories weren't even his – memories of time and space.

And then, it was gone.

As sudden as it had arrived, the pain faded away into nothingness, leaving a peace, a sort of calmness around him.

“He's coming about.” A voice spoke out, somewhere to his side. He recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

John tried to moved himself, but his body ached no matter how little he moved. And his eyes...he opened his eyes to a grey ceiling and bright light, and instinctively closed them again.

“Nurses! Get the lights down in here – be prepared in case he lapses back into shock again.”

A voice spoke out from somewhere in the distance. It was coming closer, to him, but was not anyone he had seen before. The lights dimmed, however.

“Vitals are normal. His body's taken a massive beating, but he should be allright. Go ahead and talk to him, Seargent.”

John opened his eyes and then looked around, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and neck. He was in a clinic of sorts, with medical equipment surrounding him and displaying all his vital signs.

“Rise and shine, boy. I hope the ride down wasn't too eventfull.”

The voice spoke out again, and then John recognized not only the tone, but the phrase as well. Looking at the source, his expression didn't change as he saw the smiling face that belonged to Seargent Johnson.

“Where am I?” John asked, slowly. The last thing he remembered was falling down in a shaft while being on the forerunner ship. Johnson had been on Halo, last he remembered, along with the Commander and the others.

“Relax. You've probably got a lot of questions, suffice to say, you've been out for a long while. They barely were able to extract you from the wreckage, but they made through allright.”

“You were on Halo.”

John stated, simply looking around the room. There was nobody else here – the doctor must have moved out.

“Were being the operative word. The Elites didn't like the fact that my boots were so far up the Brutes' asses, that they saw it in their mouths every time they went on the battlefield, so they shipped me off back to Earth. Besides, someone's gotta come back to hold your hand.”

Johnson smirked, and then attempted to hold him down as John tried to get up.

“Cortona.” he asked, giving up and settling in.

Johnson looked away, and then the smirk disappeared.

“No trace. She sent a distress signal, but when we got there and cleared out the flood,  she wasn't in High charity's system at all. We can't find a trace of her, even with the help of the Elite that saved you.”

John looked at Johnson, unsure what to ask next.

Then a thought raised through his mind, one that alarmed him on all possible levels. This time, he shot out of the bed, nearly breaking Johnson's arms as he moved them aside and got up.

“Alma.”

He said, looking at Johnson.

“Where is she?”

“Al-who?” Johnson asked, somewhat puzzled.

“Alma. You said there was an Elite that saved me. Did he tell you anything about Alma?”

Johnson shook his head. No, not at all.

With that, he quickly signalled the doctors and nurses from outside.

“Now, now Chief. You've had a rough time. You really should get some rest. After all, you still have a job to do.”

Johnson pushed him harder. This time surprisingly, it was strong enough to push John back into the bed.

Impossible John thought to himself as he tried to struggle. Johnson should not have this much strength – indeed, no unaugmented human could.

“You don't understand. Alma – if she gets here, she'll kill everyone.”

John continued to struggle, ignoring the pain that shot through his body.

“Relax chief, you shouldn't worry. Nothing is going to happen.”

Johnson replied, pinning him down with more strength than should have been possible. John reached out with one hand and grabbed Johnson's arm, attempting to dislodge it using all of his strength.

To his utter amazement, it remained rock solid. By any right, it would have either moved or snapped. But it did neither.

And then his blood froze as he heard it.

It was the last thing he was expecting...yet, strangely, as the sound reverberated through his body, he should John realized that he should have been expecting it.

The sound was plain, simple yet so incredibly horrifying, that when John looked at the door, and saw Alma standing there, he immediately began to scream and struggle as her laughter – and his screams - reverberated through his soul once more.
**********

He got up screaming, bringing his arms to his face in an attempt to shield himself, only to move what felt like several pieces of debris and rubble out of the way.

John quit screaming as he realized that he had woken up once more – it had been a dream...an illusion.

What has she done to me? John thought to himself, as he brought up his hands to his head. First, Fajhad, and now...now she was placing images in his head? How could he tell whether where he was now was real or fake?

He couldn't exactly tell, either way.

Going over the records in the suit showed that they had fallen approximately 10 meters or so. Although the impact was substantial, he'd fallen further before, and still lived – but that was when he was relatively healthy. The impact had knocked him out cleanly. Judging from the timer, he had been out for nearly ten minutes now.

Fortunately, the suit's auto-repair systems had gotten some of the medical systems online, and he no longer felt the brunt of the pain that came with the impact.

He got up and looked around. The entire area was dark, that much for sure. No lights were operational and Infrared vision was damaged, however. The flashlight came on with just a thought, illuminating the immediate surroundings. He was on one of the Covenant's grav lift. It filled the lift chamber quite easily, and to one side he could see a lift door that was open.

Something had pried both doors open half-way, and consequently shut down the lift here – probably a safety feature. In either case, he could not speculate. Littered across the floor of the lift were several barrels and other large storage modules. Some were broken apart, as if by impact with a heavy object, explaining the amount of debris around him.

A thought of alarm came out, and he looked around quickly, getting up. After a minute, he spotted the Elite buried underneath one of the piles, facing away from him. From the somewhat limp position, he looked either unconcious, or dead.

Getting up, he walked towards the Elite, and kneeled down next to him. His head was covered in some debris that had been knocked over by the impact, but generally John didn't see any obviously broken bones or such. Clearing out the debris, he placed it to the side. Looking back, John reached out with his hand, to turn the Elite over to face him.

When he did so, a flash ran through in front of his eyes, and for a brief millisecond, the figure in front of him changed from an Elite...to someone else's face.

It was Kirk's.

He looked up into John's eyes, and mouthed a single word. One that forced John to reel backwards onto his haunches.

why

He blinked.

Kirk was gone, and the Elite was there.

John shot to his feet and staggered back. What had happened there? What was happening to him? Was Alma doing this to him? How? More importantly, how could he stop it?

“You think she is in your mind, plageuing your thoughts like there is no tommorow;
Yet it is not her...for what causes you so much pain, is nothing but your own sorrow.”

A voice spoke out from behind him. That voice...he remembered it.

Whirling around, he came face to face with the soldier from the brig.
 
Yet, there was something different here. His voice was completely different from before, and the phrases he had said, and the way he had said it....

John took a step backwards as recognition realized itself within him.

No...this just couldn't be possible. It must be an illusion...it had to be. Nothing else could explain it.

Disbelief soon replaced itself with suspicion as he remembered the bodies that had disappeared in the corridor.

Suspicion gave way to practicality as he looked the soldier over and noticed the flood infection form that had placed itself on the foot.

He looked back at the soldier, and spoke only one word. It was a statement of fact, one of identity, nothing more, nothing less.

“Gravemind”

********

[Deepblue]

[Singh]

You know you're going about the right way of writing a horror story when it scares you into putting on all the lights in the house as you write it.

*****
On the bridge of the ship, Prophet Truth looked at his assistant, his features and expressions contorted into one of anger and rage.

“Where are those bumbling fools! We sent them out just two minutes ago, and they are yet to report back.”

He said, talking to the Brute near the back console next to the door. The Brute simply shook his head.

“Unknown. They are not responding to comms, and their tranceavers no longer transmit either. It is as if they vanished completely off the grid.”

The prophet's rage increased. How could this be possible? An entire group of Brutes, all at once? Not even the Demon was that powerfull to take on so many at one time...or was he?

He was about to reply when the bridge's lights flickered once. Truth looked up at the lights and frowned. First they had the malfunctions on every other deck, and now the bridge? What was going on here?

Then the lights flickered again, before failing completely and going into darkness.

“Damn this cursed storm! I should have just let the Elites stay in command!” Truth shouted out, to nobody in particular. Pressing a button on his panel, a large flashlight switched on from the hover-chair he was sitting, illuminating the Brute he was talking to.

There was no Brute there, however.

All there was left was a charred skeleton and some blood.

Truth moved backwards in shock, sending the chair backwards and colliding against the railing.

“What in the name of..” he started, and then swung the chair over to look for another.

“Did anyone see - “ Truth stopped mid-sentence, as he saw another charred skeleton on the other side of the bridge. Who had done this? How could it have happened so fast?

Then the lights came on, revealing the entire bridge.

Truth looked around as all the brutes that had stood guard were in similar positions. Not one had uttered a sound of alarm, or even been given a chance to draw a weapon. He turned the chair to survey the bridge and the casualties, overcome with shock and fear to react much to it,

And then there was the sound.

It was a giggle, a short laugh. Coming from the main entrance. Truth immediately turned the chair around to face it.

At the entrance, he saw a girl. A human girl, wearing a blood-stained skirt. There was no question about it – she had to be the one responsible for this. But how had she done such a thing?

The question that frightened him most, however, was why she hadn't done it to him yet.

Before he could speak or saw anything, the lights above flashed and exploded suddenly, causing him to blink and cry out in surprise as the entire bridge was plunged into pitch-black darkness. The flashlight was still on, meaning that he could still see in the area ahead of him. But yet, when he looked up at where the girl had been, all he saw were ashes drifting to the ground.

And then the laughter came again, from off to the side.

“Who are you?” He asked, somewhat alarmed and scared as he turned to face her. As the flashlight brought her into view, she just walked into the edge of darkness and disappeared.

Then there was a whisper, it was soft, slow and came from behind him. The sound reverberated not only through his ears, but through his mind and soul itself, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You come here seeking the truth of your existance...”

As he turned to face her, he found that she was looking right at him, her eyes glowing in the darkness.

And then she disappeared once more, leaving only ashes.

Fear ran it's course through his mind and body. This girl, this human...how could she do the things she could? It was terrifying, to say the least.

And then, he heard movement from his left. Turning, he saw her right in front, at the staircase leading up to his command section.

She looked at him, and walked up slowly, all the while whispering, slowly.

“...but know that you, like me, shall find no salvation on this ship.”

Then the flashlight flickered and went dead, plunging the entire bridge into the darkness and silence, the latter of which was promptly shattered the next seconds by a scream of pain that was loud enough to make it's way out past the corridor, and down through the open elevator shaft.

[Deepblue]

One critique...

The general story outline seems to be getting somewhat monotonous and less scary as a result. Mix things up a bit!

[Singh]

The soldier didn’t move forwards, standing perfectly still and facing John. But for his part, John didn’t react either, waiting for the soldier – or rather, Gravemind - to reply to his statement.

Gravemind had betrayed both him and the arbiter, using them to get onboard High Charity and taking it over. What was most disturbing, however, was that Gravemind had somehow managed to make his way onboard the Forerunner ship before either him or the prophet – or he managed to get onboard just as it launched, like John had. Such a scenario would explain the large amount of flood John had to fight his way through to the forerunner ship.

However, now John had one more thing to worry about: the soldier himself. Earlier, he had proven to have incredible strength, holding John in place with a vice-like grip when they had first met in the cargo hold. Despite the strength given to him by the armor, John had not been able to shake it off even remotely. According to what had been recorded by his instruments then, the Soldier equaled him or an elite in strength and reflexes even with the armor. The fact that Gravemind now had control over him just made it far, far worse than before.

He could take down a hunter unarmed in this state. John thought to himself, a slight shiver running down his spine as he considered the implications. If he was built to be a God amongst men before…then with the flood’s power as well as his own…what is he now?

In less than a second, he had already done the combat evaluation. The soldier was unarmed, he was – John still had a very, very good shot. He was also armored, so the Soldier’s strength was nullified as him. But if he truly was Alma’s son, then may not matter, considering what Alma had done with a single touch.

It didn’t matter though, as John still needed to finish the mission, Gravemind or not. This was only another obstacle to overcome, one that he knew he could win. Spartans always won in the end, and this would be no exception.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity as the soldier – No, Gravemind, John corrected himself – was studying him, he spoke slowly, his voice ringing out similar to a poet of sorts. It was so identical to how he spoke in the cave underneath the forerunner installation that it was downright eerie, even for him.

“I can feel in your mind, the fear you hold of us. Yet you remain determined to stay your decision to end this mad course.”

The soldier paused, not moving. John’s mind reacted first, taking a step back as suddenly, movement showed up on his tracker, originating from above and all around him. From the darkness of the lift shaft above, in a blur of movement before John could react, several flood combat forms jumped onto the gravity pad, shaking it as they impacted on the floor with a resounding thump. 
They fell into a circle around the perimeter of the elevator, numbering around eight and surrounding both him and the still unconscious elite.  John didn’t react though; he continued to focus his attention on the soldier in front of him. The odds just kept on getting better and better.

The soldier took a step forward to John, as it spoke again.

“This ship was brought into this storm for a reason, for now it seeks two beings upon this ship – two beings that it was denied.”

“Alma?” John asked, slowly, unsure what to make of the Gravemind had just said. The combat forms didn’t move towards him, but neither did they move away.

“She now rules this ship, feeding upon the souls that rest within its central core. Soon she will grow and the storm will not be able to claim her anymore.”

Slowly, the combat forms around them took a few steps forward, closing in. But John never took his eyes off the soldier’s form. This had gone on too long, he needed answers, and he needed them here and now.

“The storm…”

The soldier took a sharp breath in and then exhaled. John recognized the sound. It was something akin to laughter – or at least, what the Gravemind could manage with the soldier’s body.

“Can you not feel it in your soul, in your mind? It has begun it’s task, and yet you are so ignorant? It is the most basic force across the cosmos, chasing something that it was denied in many a universe.”

“What is it?”

John asked, still puzzled. Gravemind was speaking in clues, riddles as usual. He noticed that the combat forms were moving closer still. He tensed visibly, getting ready to fight his way out. The elite would have to fight his own way out – John had too many adversaries and too little time to finish his mission.

“You don’t get it, do you?”  Gravemind’s voice grew colder and distinctively darker.

“When the rest of our species began to leave so long ago, we few asked it for help; begging it to have mercy. And instead, it cast upon us a curse far worse than any we had imagined.”

The soldier took another step forward, and with blinding speed it reached out and grabbed John’s arms. The vice-like grip held him steady, not allowing him to move at all. John was about to react when he suddenly felt another presence in his mind. But the suit displays said he hadn’t been breached in anyway, so it wasn’t Gravemind. Yet, there was someone there – it sat like a pair of eyes in the dark, looking at him – looking through him. It did not react even as John observed it back, trying to discern it’s presence.

Gravemind leaned in further, the mask on the soldier’s face nearly touching John’s faceplate as he spoke again.

“You can feel it. It is there, it watches all of us, all the ones it knows it must claim.”

The soldier paused for the briefest of seconds, before continuing.

“But it does not watch over us.”

John let his combat training take over as he jumped, using his legs to kick the soldier back and push him away. But the soldier responded impossibly quickly, moving much akin to a blur even by John’s standards as he dodged out of the way and then moving behind John. He continued to speak even as he did so.

“It is here for two beings. But we are here for it. We have waited for thousands of years, the seven of us. It claimed our races but left us behind…forever doomed to a fate of loneliness, exile and insanity, all because of what it denied us.”

The combat forms attacked, leaping forwards to engage John. He stepped backwards, ramming his elbow in where the Soldier should be – but finding only empty air as Gravemind dodged his blows again. However, his weapons were free this time around as he leapt forwards into the clear space Gravemind had left ahead of him. He did a roll, coming up with both weapons firing as the closest Combat form leapt at him, bringing about its tentacle arm like a whip.

John ducked, but didn’t stop pressing the trigger. Blue bolts of plasma spat out at the combat forms, charring and burning flesh and appendages alike. But still, they came, unrelenting despite the insane amount of damage they took. One of the flood forms lost an arm, while the other’s legs just melted away to nothingness.

Before the first combat form reached him, John had already done another leap backwards, jumping just out of range as the form whipped at him with the long and spindly appendage. John already had anticipated the two other forms that came from either side of him as he watched them close in equally fast. Holding the plasma rifles in either hands, he held them out to either side, firing at full burst and slowing the combat forms just long enough for him to take another step back. The plasma rifles hissed and then ejected their cartridges from over heating, letting out a small cloud of steam that was hot enough to be felt through the gloves he was wearing.

John was almost out to the exit, however. All he needed to do was just turn around and –

The motion tracker tracked another incoming object as John fought off the other combat forms. It was moving unbelievably fast.

Gravemind was all John could thing before a blur came out from behind the combat form and then leapt at him feet-first with enough force to knock him down. Combat forms immediately came up to either side and held him down. John was able to struggle and was about to get loose, however, when the soldier came in front and helped them.

“You still don’t understand, do you…if you will not listen, then I shall show you.”

Slowly, carefully, Gravemind placed one hand on John’s faceplate, not doing anything else.

The presence he had felt in his mind re-appeared – or rather, John began to notice it once more. It had always been there, and as John felt it, he realized that it had always been there. Now that he recognized it, its presence had been there throughout his life, present in nearly all of his memories – but like the tiny part of a picture that you never really noticed unless you knew what you were looking for. It had been watching…waiting.

He had seen it’s presence hovering in his illusions, in his hallucinations just mere moments ago, but at that time he hadn’t recognized it. But yet, as it looked on to his studying of it, John still couldn’t recognize what it was.

“What is it?” John whispered slowly, his mind awash with the shock and horror of this discovery.

The soldier only whispered back slowly, steadily. It was a single word, but one word that brought chills to John’s mind, forcing him to reel back from the presence mentally. It was something he had avoided, dodged and generally missed for most of his lifetime, but it was also something he had seen happen to all those around him, to his friends and even his foes. He had brought it about to many a person, and indeed, claimed to have stared it in the face. But  it was only now that he realized….he had never stared at it in the face like he had now, for back then, it had never looked back at him the way it did now…as if, he was next.

“Death.”

John didn’t reply immediately, but he stopped struggling. If it was death…it would certainly explain Alma, to a certain degree…and the storm. But if Alma was the one it was after, why did it bring them here? Unless….

“Who is the other being it is here for?”

Gravemind took the palm off his faceplate and then stood up. He looked down at John as the combat forms moved off. Before Gravemind could reply, John already suspected the answer. The soldier pointed at him and whispered slowly, carefully.

“You.”

[Singh]

John blinked.

He just stared at gravemind blankly as his mind raced to take it in. Even as he did so, he continued to watch the pair of eyes that were observing him in his mind. This was what he had faced many a time, and indeed, stared it down just as many times.

Death the thought ran across his mind. Considering how he had managed to dodge it so far, the question bugged him...why had it simply not come after him right away, if it were so powerfull? Alma...the fall...the countless number of times he had dodged it in recent history. Why hadn't it simply not just taken him away. It was clear that Death had the power to warp time, and the universe itself – as was witnessed in the storm that surrounded them.

“Why doesn't it just take us?” he asked, voicing out the thought. “It has the ability.” he continued, looking directly at gravemind.

Gravemind, for his part, didn't reply immediately. Instead, more combat forms suddenly jumped down onto the elevator pads around him.

Where did so many bodies come from? John thought to himself. This ship must have been far, far more occupied than he had previously thought. Alma left behind nothing but charred skeletons, and he knew for a fact that the flood needed some matter left on their victims and bodies before they could make use of them. Either the flood had arrived much before he had come onboard and remained hidden...

The last possibility shook him, however. What if the flood had been here all along? But just as immediately, he dismissed it...why would the covenant allow flood to remain on their holy relic, one that powered the entire city?

Then Gravemind replying, interrupting John mid-thought. His voice was low, grave...

“It is death...the destroyer of worlds...it watches each of us take our journies through life, and knows when to end it, as per the agenda given to it by those who control time, space and fate itself...”

Gravemind took a step forwards and continued, looking away to the side and to the combat forms surrounding.

“...but even it is not infallible. Death is something that comes to us not by direct action; but by circumstance...which is why it has not taken you yet.”

“I don't understand.” John replied. It was the truth, he didn't understand this at all. Gravemind's answers only led to more questions – despite not even answering the original one.

“For it to take you or Alma directly, with all your luck and her power, would be to breach the laws of existance, and destroy all that which you fight for...”

Gravemind's voice contained what seemed like a smile. It was so obvious that it frightened John to his core.

“...Which is why it has set up this circumstance...this trap. It wants both of you, and will do everything it can to take you...but we know it is here, we know it is waiting. It will not have us; denying an end to our constant hunger...one that we shall end now.”

John's mind raced as Gravemind revealed this particularly disturbing piece of information. What was gravemind trying to say? Was he holding John and Alma 'hostage' as it were, not allowing either to die until it died first? Did John want to die? He considered it carefully..if he died here...what of the Covenant invasion? What of Earth, what of humanity? He was not afraid to die if it meant saving them – that ideal was something he had learned from day one of the Spartan program...but this situation was confusing...indeed.

John no longer knew what to do. He wished Cortona was here – she would at least have some advice, some insight to the situation.

The entire thing was...strange, odd and completely alien to what he was used for.  As much as Gravemind frightened him, John couldn't help but feel there was something else to this entire fiasco. The images of Kirk, Fajhad and the others replayed in his mind; much as it did earlier. Memories of those that had died. What Gravemind now told him was disturbing in more ways than one.

To say that he was not afraid of death would be an utter and complete lie to himself. Every human being feared death...it was only a matter of how much he cared about it. John, like every soldier, was willing to die for the UNSC and Earth...but to watch helpless as his teammates had fallen...that was a far, far worse fate and always shook even the hardiest soldier to the core.

John noted that the motion tracker lit up as even more combat forms fell down into the elevator shaft. This situation could hardly be called good at all. Gravemind pointed directly at him, though and spoke.

“And this is where you come in...circumstance is reaching it's pinnacle; and your fate approaches the end of it's cycle...you will help us find death, an end to the madness...”

Something caught John's attention. The way he had said 'your fate' had seemed...odd. He couldn't quite put it down, but he knew that there was something there, something important. But before he could do much about it, gravemind raised his right hand, palm up. Something happened...and a figure began to form...John felt a tingling in his mind as it did...he didn't know exactly how Gravemind did it, but he somehow did. Perhaps he had tapped straight into John's mind, or maybe his suit systems...how exactly was irrevelant. What mattered was the figure that stood in his palm.

It was cortona. She was looking none too pleased at all, and seemed to be speaking to someone else. Her eyes had a fire behind them; one of anger and rage...yet at the same time, her posture was one of fustration...as if she was being coerced.

Then the image changed to someone else – or rather, a group of someone else, and John immediately recognized it. It was Sgt. Jonhson, along with Miranda Keys and the elite he had seen when he had first met gravemind.

“...do as we ask, help us to bring about an end to our suffering, the agony that has befallen us...or she, and the rest of your kind shall suffer.”

As it to re-iterate his point, the image changed this time..to that of Earth.

Just as slowly as it had arrived, the images faded away. John's mind reeled back with many questions. This was blackmail. Blackmail of the highest order, actually. Then the implications of the situation hit him. If the flood were here...and the forerunner ship was originally headed to Earth...

Even as he thought this, John's mission came clearer than ever. This ship could not be allowed to reach Earth; nor could it's flood occupants allowed to touch one foot upon it's soil. But how? he thought to himself. This forerunner ship...although the tech was familiar, with Cortona John realized that he would need some other way to ensure that.

He glanced back at the Elite, who was still unconcious, and then looked back at Gravemind. There was no choice. To save Earth, John had to do the exact opposite; and had to aid those that had wished to destroy it. While he felt little sympathy for the Covenant, the fact of the matter was that they were now at a Civil war of sorts, and the Elites had been betrayed by their leaders.

The flood on the other hand...the fact that he now had Cortona and High Charity...he could very well carry out that threat.

There was little choice in the matter.

Looking at Gravemind, John simply nodded slowly.

“Fine. You have my help.”

Gravemind took a step forwards, and John could feel the smile in his voice.

Then something happened, and Gravemind's head shot up, towards the darkness above.

A ripple went through John's HUD systems, and then his armor became slow and unresponsive for a second before something happened.

There was a sound behind John, one that chilled him to the bone and made his blood run cold.

The sound was of laughter..of a small child laughing softly...

His hud fuzzed again, encountering interference.

Oh God no. he thought to himself, instantly whirling around and then taking a leap backwards.

Standing in front of him was Alma, blood-stained skirt and all. Her hair covered her face, and John couldn't tell if she was looking at him specifically. Even worse to witness, however, was the gore and blood that was present behind her, as skeletons of the various flood forms that had surrounded them littered the grav lift. Fear rushed to his mind as she stood in front of him, slowly moving towards him, hands outstretched.

And then in the blink of an eye, she was gone, leaving nothing but dust and ashes in her wake. John glanced at the Elite, somewhat glad to find that he was still intact. So was Gravemind, even if the combat forms weren't.

But before either could reply, another form suddenly appeared where Alma had stood just a moment ago. He appeared suddenly, and out of nowhere. Yet it had seemed like he had been there forever. This person was...strange, wearing a similar uniform as the soldier, yet completely different. He didn't have the same mask as the soldier behind John.

John took a quick glance in the person's eyes before he disappeared. Not one, but two pairs of eyes looked back at him. One was in front of him...and the other was in his own mind; the pair that been looking at him earlier. He stook a step back as shock and recognition went through his mind.

Death... Death was looking at him straight in the face, and within his mind.

And then just as quickly, it was gone, disappearing into the same pile of Ashes that Alma had left just seconds before.

The entire encoutner shook him, from the inside out. He had claimed to have faced death many times till now...it had faced him again. But rather than him escaping it, it had ignored him, moving on after more important quarry. Fear went through his mind now greater than ever before, and he couldn't help but have a thought or two of what possibly the afterlife would be like.

Quelching those thoughts, however, John straigtened himself out and brought his mind to the mission. Even if he were to die, he needed it to be worth something. His thoughts were interrupted as Gravemind spoke up behind him. John turned to face him.

“Time waits for no-one, and neither does Death. We must catch it before it catches it's quarry, or else your civilization is doomed.”

With that, the surviving combat forms leaped after the soldier as he ran off, out towards the near by exit. He turned back before entering it, though, indicating for him to follow.

John was about to go in, but glanced at the still-unconcious elite.

“Leave him. This is not his battle.”

Thinking rapidly, John realized that carrying the elite would only slow him down. Not taking a second look, he ran and chased after the soldier, following him as they chased down Death itself.