Disclaimer: I own no franchise mentioned in this work. Halo belongs to 343, Overwatch belongs to Blizzard.

Four months. Despicable showing on my part. For however little it means, apologies for the delay. Got a bit stuck on this one. A little note, however, if there's a gap in my updating such as this (which, much as I don't like it, might not be rare. College and all) I will update my profile with what stories I'm working on. If I abandon something, it will be posted to that story and on my profile. Not planning on abandoning this, to be clear.

Also, Tracer now has a canon girlfriend by the name of Emily. So, yeah, that happened. Also, devs have confirmed Tracer as a lesbian. I only state that specifically because some people have called them 'gal pals', which I can neither figure out nor understand so I'm just going to shut down any of that trite nonsense right now.


Tracer awoke not to the sun shining in her eyes, as she expected, but to the sound of her communicator buzzing incessantly on her bedside table. She blinked at the clock beside her, noting that it was 03:28 in the morning, far too early for her tastes. With a scowl she swiped the device off the bedside table and glanced at the screen, ready to simply ignore whoever had the gall to call this early.

She sighed as the caller ID showed Winston's face smiling up at her. Knowing that the ape would never call at this time unless it was important, Lena slid the lock screen out of the way and took the call.

"Winston, it's great to hear from ya, luv, but it's a bit early for a call," Lena told him.

"Sorry, Tracer, but it's important. There's a situation developing," Winston replied. Tracer groaned and rolled over to lay on her back and stare up at the ceiling as Winston continued, "I've been getting reports throughout the night of two Australian Junkers moving east through the continental US. Their last known action was the theft of a vehicle on the east coast. Recorded statements have indicated that their next target is King's Row."

"So soon after Talon's attack last night? That can't be a coincidence," Tracer said, thinking about why the delinquents would target a residential sector. Talon wanted to escalate human-omnic tensions by murdering the omnic population in the contentious neighborhood, but the actual location held little tactical or monetary value for rogue scrap-artists.

Winston didn't respond for a second, although Tracer could hear him talking to someone in the background, likely Athena. He soon came back and answered, "I agree. Athena thinks it's likely that they're after the EMP that Talon left behind after you dispatched their team."

"I disabled it to the point that even the Spider herself couldn't fix it. Why would they want an oversized paperweight?" she asked.

"Such a device requires some rather complex infrastructure. From Talon's previous attempts at such actions, the bomb they were transporting was likely an EPFCG, which uses explosives to compress magnetic flux for a high-powered EMP without the need for a large capacitor bank or a nuclear device. The area is still locked down and police are processing the crime scene, but they won't be done before the company arrives in several hours," Winston explained, even knowing that most of his terminology would go over Lena's head.

Tracer rolled her eyes at Winston's verbose lesson before asking, "So, why couldn't you let me get at least a bit more sleep? Now I'm going to stay up thinking about keeping the barmy tossers from getting their hands on the fancy electricity thing. Not that I don't like talking to ya, big guy, but you know how I am after a mission." After any mission where the enemy refused to surrender and had to be dispatched through more violent mean brought up memories that she'd rather avoid.

Winston had expressed his immense disapproval of her continued presence in Overwatch operations for that exact reason, but ultimately he couldn't release her as there was no replacement. The Petras act had annihilated Overwatch as an effective organization, and even with the recall Lena was the only agent left in England. Before the fall, Lena had been in training, learning how to control her chronal accelerator and how to stay alive in combat. After the fall, she was one of the few who had stayed in hiding with Winston, if only because both her chronal condition and mental state made any extended stay in public life a lost cause.

The ape's voice brought her out of her deprecating thoughts and back to the issue at hand as Winston explained, "Sorry, Tracer, but there's a second incident in progress in Australia. It seems that the escapade of the two headed your way has encouraged a bit of an invasion on the west side of Sydney. I didn't have any agents in the area, but new forces arrived to hold the line."

"So? That's hardly surprising that the Australians would respond to an attack on their capital by a horde of nutters," Tracer interrupted, short on patience due to the time and her mission the night before. She had been expecting to wake up in a good mood, ready for a day of rest and daydreaming. Getting another mission so quickly was both irritating and unhealthy without proper rest.

"They were UN Special Forces soldiers, Lena. Dropped into orbit from nowhere before proceeding to intervene in a situation where normal constabulary forces were insufficient," Winston explained.

Tracer was silent for a few moments as her tired mind tried to process what Winston was getting at before responding, "All Overwatch activity was banned by the Petras Act. The only other armed forces the UN has are Peacekeepers, which hardly qualify as special."

"The Act bans Overwatch activity specifically. Their entrance was similar to our's, albeit without an active global crisis. Overwatch isn't coming back, Tracer. These soldiers aren't a reinstatement of the Watch or reinforcements for it, they're replacements," Winston continued, unperturbed by Tracer's interjection.

"The red tops will be all over this one," Tracer said quietly after a moment of thinking about the implications of being replaced. Neither she nor Winston would have anywhere to go if they lost the private monetary backing that kept them barely afloat. Official international government protection would be preferable to many of those that paid for their escort services.

Winston intruded on her thoughts as he said, "I just thought you should know, before the news hounds get ahold of it. Give it some time to sink in. I'm sorry, Tracer."

"What are they called?"

"There's been no announcement yet, so I'd imagine they'll finish their mission in Australia and then head up to the UN headquarters in New York to be introduced to the public. The acronym of the group is the 'UNSC', to slightly answer your question," Winston answered with a huff of annoyance at some issue with something on his end.

Tracer didn't hear anything that Winston said after that as memories rose unbidden from her mind. Scenes of fire and death on planets far from Earth, ships of colossal size destroyed in moments, entire planets burned before the might of an unstoppable enemy. Standing against annihilation, the unyielding green warrior, steadfast against the tide.

Shaking her head to clear the horrifying and confusing images, Tracer rolled off the bed and quickly made her way to the living room of her apartment. Her chronal accelerator sat in its charging cradle next to the tv, casting a blue glow around the dark room. After retrieving the remote from its resting place under the couch cushions, Tracer quickly flipped the channel over to the Beeb World News to see if there were any reports yet.

"Tracer!" Winston's shout finally caught her attention as the reporter on-screen mentioned the attack on Sydney but confirmed that no footage had been released from the active warzone currently.

Bringing her mind back on track with the conversation, Tracer replied, "Sorry, what were you saying Winston?"

"Nothing important except trying to get through to you. What was that, Tracer?" he asked, his tone conveying his worry about her sudden silence.

"Just getting my thoughts in order, luv! So, what's the plan?" Tracer asked, putting on the hyperactive persona that most knew her as.

"Lena..." Winston trailed off and gave a sigh as he recognized the avoidance tactic that Tracer was using. "The two headed your way will arrive in several hours time. Intercept and disable them, but try to keep them alive for questioning. They aren't Talon, and while they have caused damages, they haven't stuck around anywhere long enough to cause anything more than injuries."

"Will do, big guy. Do you want them or let the bluebands have custody?"

"Let the police deal with them. As for the other situation, I'll keep monitoring it and update you if we need to take action. If they head to the UN HQ, it would be an excellent opportunity for Talon to interfere. Kill the new heroes and show their capability to strike at anyone," Winston answered.

"I'll be waiting. If that's all Winston, I'm going to get some more sleep."

"Take care, Tracer," Winston said softly.

"Goodbye, big guy," Lena responded before closing the call with those parting words. Any last hopes of getting rest tonight had been lost with the mention of the source of her nightmares. So, alone in her space, surrounded by silence and the glow of her chronal accelerator and tv, Tracer sat and thought.

If it was the same being she had seen when lost in pain and confusion, then she would need to find it. She would confront it, and she would discover why it had waited almost a decade before coming to deal with the loose end that she presented. With that in mind, she drew her attention back to the news feed and waited for any confirmation of the warrior's presence.


"Halt! Lay down your weapons and approach with your hands in the air!" The call came from the line of officers before them, arrayed in a defensive formation. Though they couldn't see his face, Chief still hid his expression of confusion. Even during the Covenant war, few soldiers or commissioned officers would dare to order a Spartan around, and those that did were telling him where his objective was. Even though these humans had never seen a Spartan, it was still odd for a civilian to try and give orders to an obvious military unit.

Instead of doing as the civilian asked, the Spartan continued on his course to the barricade. The officer raised his pistol, a cute little thing that looked like it fired the standard nine millimeter rounds that were common police caliber even in the 26th century. Several others officers hesitantly reinforced their leader, although their hands were shaking, causing their aim to waver. The man who had made the demand of the Chief had steady aim, although his eyes were flicking to the Sangheili warrior behind the Spartan. Chief assumed that the man must have been military at one point, considering his courage and steadfast resolve in the face of true battle.

"I said Drop. Your. Weapons!" he stated once more, enunciating the last three words. Once more he was ignored as the two warriors stepped over the cement barricades with ease, moving with deceptive ease for their size. At this point the group of officers had backed up to the Pelican, with many taking cover behind the metal struts of the dropship to try and give themselves a chance if it came to a firefight.

As the two massive beings in front of them continued to ignore their commanders orders, the police line drew back even further, many looking close to turning and running. They were local cops, under oath to protect their city and its citizens from crime and assist in mitigating crises. Full scale military action against what were obviously a walking tank and some alien was not why they were there.

Seeing his support withdrawing slowly, the commanding officer made a mistake he would not soon forget. With a sharp crack, a gunshot rang out as the belligerent officer fired his weapon at the advancing Spartan. With a burst of flame, the small metal bullet exited the chamber at almost 400 meters a second, covering the distance to the green giant in just over ten milliseconds. A crackle of energy emanated from the impact site as the small round ricocheted off the glowing barrier.

Thirteen milliseconds passed before the Spartan reacted, a flash of time far too short for any but a Spartan to acknowledge. With a decision and strategy already formulated, the armored giant shot forward, accelerating at a rate that would kill an unaugmented human. In the 295 milliseconds it took for the officer to register the charge, the Chief had already covered three meters. Frozen from the mass bearing down upon him, the commander could do nothing as his pistol was grabbed from his grip by the Spartan's massive hand. Not that he would have had a chance if he could move, for the weapon was out of his hands faster than he could see, pulled with a force far greater than he could exert.

So it was that the rest of the world caught up to the blur of events that had just transpired. The Arbiter simply looked on as his human ally dealt with the situation, content in that he did not have to deal with the confused humans himself. The police force that was half-heartedly covering their leader, however, found themselves in a much different situation. Their commander was disarmed and at the mercy of a being who could apparently take direct gunfire without any notable effects. Many lowered their weapons to the ground, unwilling to attempt a shot with their commander standing in the line of fire.

The Chief noted the other officers standing down as he continued to stare down the man in front of him, the small police-issue pistol held in his large fist. Keeping his gaze directed to the commander, he began to tighten his grip on the firearm. At first the weapon held up, admirably enduring the force of Chief's grip. Within seconds, however, the Spartan's grip overcame the resistance of the plastics and metal that made up the barrel of the gun. Several cracks visibly opened on the weapon, rendering it useless for further combat.

Eyes glanced feverishly between the deformed firearm and golden reflection as the officer waited for a retaliatory strike. Instead of the expected hostile action, however, the Spartan ordered, "Evacuate this sector and fortify the edge of the combat zone. We'll deal with the enemy." With that promise, Chief dropped the destroyed peashooter and turned to make his way to the Pelican. The Master Chief grabbed some more ammo for his Magnum and MA5C. Thel shook his head when the Spartan glanced in his direction, silently asking if he needed to rearm. With that done, Chief made his way out of the dropship and past the disarmed officer. The Arbiter spared the man a single glance of annoyance for impeding their mission before continuing to follow the Spartan.

As the two warriors made their way back towards the junker-infested streets, the dropship that they had arrived upon became active once more. Officers scattered as the transport vessel rose with a blast of thrusters to take off towards a more secluded location until it was needed once more. The commanding officer diverted his gaze from the broken pistol on the ground to stare after the mysterious figures.

He was distracted once more as their craft flew overhead with a dull roar. A scowl formed on his face as he glanced at the letters 'UNSC' painted on the side of the ship. To him, it seemed as though the United Nations had finally replaced Overwatch with whatever this new organization was. It was the only logical conclusion that would explain the odd technology and the, 'thing', that had appeared to help them. From the way they had inserted themselves into the situation and begun throwing about orders, it was obvious they had the same arrogance as Overwatch had as well.

Instead of focusing on the activity behind him, Chief was concentrating on a map that Cortana had projected on his HUD. Several sections were highlighted to show enemy clusters and other relevant tactical data. Seeing that the main vanguard of junkers had been eliminated, their objective at this point would be to flank any opposition, break the front, and prevent enemies from becoming entrenched.

With that in mind, Chief turned off the main road and into the industrial environment that spread out around them. The Arbiter followed behind, knowing that being seen with another human would be better than going off on his own. While they would cover less ground, it was better to stay grouped together in unfamiliar territory. Without any words being exchanged between the two veterans, the each took to a side of the street they were on, scanning any opening for signs of hostiles. Even with motion sensors, years of combat experience demanded no less from the two warriors.

So it was that they advanced northwards, away from the main road and into the ruined manufacturing plants and warehouses that surrounded the area. Intelligence gathered by Cortana from field reports indicated that there was a group of junkers roaming unchecked about two blocks ahead. While both warriors picked up their pace, their advance was still cautious as they scanned the area for threats.

After clearing out the rest of the street, both operatives took up position in a destroyed warehouse that was missing its roof and several walls. From their elevated view of the area, both warriors could identify multiple contacts roaming the area, either scavenging materials or destroying infrastructure. Cortana was already highlighting targets, feeding the information back to both combatants.

Spread out before them was a small side-street, an alleyway that lead to a dead end with several parked trailers at the end. On their side of the street were the ruins they were ensconced in, the former building stretching most of the block for industrial storage requirements. Across the way stood what looked to be grain storage. Connected to the units was what looked to be a large hangar for shipping and receiving. Several massive concrete silos provided an undulating wall of stone, only broken at the base of the rightmost unit where junkers had planted explosives and blasted their way inside.

A score of those responsible stood outside, each one armed with poorly maintained firearms as they kept guard. Chief formed a plan for infiltrating the structure, plotting fields of fire and routes for himself and the Arbiter. Once he received the Sangheili's silent nod of approval, Chief slowly rose from his position and moved to flank the junkers and provide enfilade fire.

The Arbiter, in turn, disappeared from sight as he activated his cloaking device before moving to the left side of the collective. Unseen and silent as any Spec Ops operative, Thel quickly closed the distance between himself and the disorganized line of enemies. Before he reached the unaware souls, Chief initiated contact with a tap of the trigger.

Two junkers went down, both now missing several important components of their head, most notably the majority of their brains. Not that there was much there in the first place. A second later the Arbiter ignited his blade with its distinctive hiss. His target whipped around at the sound, the Sangheili's charge distracting him from searching for the Spartan. The junker's last sight was of a glowing plasma blade hanging in midair before it cleaved through his head.

A quick glance at his tracker showed seven more targets maneuvering out front along with a significant force inside the building at the edge of the tracker range. Thel's concentration was drawn back to the battlefield as a few rounds impacted harmlessly again his energy shields, outlining his form from the dissipating energy. His distraction allowed the Spartan to take down three more targets, the bullets rendering all three headless.

Thel once more closed in to engage in close quarters combat with the remaining four enemies. In quick order each was dispatched, the searing gashes across their bodies sealing their fate. Another glance at his tracker showed three forms moving towards the sounds of battle from inside the damaged structure. As they exited the structure, the Arbiter noted that their weapons seemed to be slightly better than their comrades, albeit still nothing compared to UNSC models.

Before the Sangheili leader could move to engage, the Spartan eliminated all three targets. The massive rounds of the human assault rifle rendered each enemy headless, spraying the ground with blood and other internal matter as the shots exited. Thel turned to watch his human ally drop down from where he had been perched. Cement cracked and the ground shook as the Spartan landed with straight knees, completely unfazed from the drop.

The Chief quickly made his way across the cluttered street to take up position on the right side of the hole into the silo. Considering the lack of pollutants or material on the ground, these specific units must have beens empty when they were breached. This meant that enemies could be on catwalks or other maintenance structures when they entered, creating a much more diverse combat zone than a simple breach and clear.

A small green light appeared on the Arbiter's HUD, a silent communication signal that he knew the Spartan favored. Thel drew his carbine in preparation for the unavoidable ranged combat. He sent a blink back with a thought, showing he was ready to proceed. The light blinked once, then twice, then turned a solid red to signal permission to instigate contact.

Chief was the first to enter, twisting around the ragged edges of the impromptu entrance. He raised his rifle to the walkways above, already anticipating enfilade fire from those positions. A hail of rounds answered that question as his energy shield flared to life. Several quick taps of the trigger of his MA5C put that threat to rest, allowing the Spartan to focus on the ground forces. He saw the Arbiter take up position on his left, the Sangheili's carbine firing precise shots into the enemy lines.

Having taken out the three junkers above, the Spartan joined in breaking the enemy resistance on the ground. Of the eighteen that had begun the fight, two were already dead from T-51 rounds to the face. As before, the two warriors split to each side to flank their enemies. The closed nature of the silo had the unfortunate effect of amplifying each gunshot to a much greater volume, making it much more difficult to locate where enemies were. Echoes reverberated throughout the structure as the disorganized miscreants attempted to halt the two special operatives.

Unluckily for them, both the Spartan and Arbiter were on an entirely different level. Within seconds Chief had taken four more kills. Two targets went down without heads as the large 7.62 rounds tore through their skulls. Another two went down when they had the brilliant idea of lining up for the Spartan to put one bullet through both of their chests.

Seeing that open combat would not work, the junkers began firing wildly from behind several pieces of machinery that were bolted to the floor of the storage unit. Against normal, unshielded opponents,such a tactic may have worked, but against energy shields the unconcentrated fire proved to be a negligible hinderance.

Leaping over the cover of the closest group of targets, Chief managed to catch them completely by surprise. The first got a boot to the temple as the Spartan flew through the air, breaking the junkers neck and ending his existence. A bullet ended the second man's life, cutting off his panicked attempt to run from the armored giant. A quick bash with the stock of his rifle finished off the group of three, leaving six enemies surviving.

Thel took the opportunity to engage as two junkers attempted to charge the Sangheili with explosives lit. Two shots brought them to the ground, where their screams were silenced by the detonations of their packages.

Of those that had opposed the two warriors, four survived the slaughter to make it out alive. The survivors fled into a ground-level maintenance access port before either warrior could get a clear shot to take them down. Chief glanced at his motion tracker to take note of which direction they had fled before scanning the room for any enemies clinging onto life. Seeing no possible threats from any targets that may have survived their entry, the Spartan made his way over to where the junkers had escaped. Thel followed him after a careful glance around the area.

The Master Chief entered the area first, MA5 loaded and raised to fire on any junkers that may have stayed behind. It appeared such an opportunity had been missed by the junkers in their panic, however, as no resistance greeted the two as they advanced down the narrow tunnel. In short order they were entering the main building of the facility.

A massive hangar created the main reception and processing area for whatever product had been stored in the adjacent silos. The roof was raised far above them, although several of the metal panels that made up its surface were missing. Various items were spread out across the main floor to create a chaotic yet dangerous series of blind spots for enemies to engage from. Chief immediately moved to cover behind a rotting box to get out of sight from any ambushers while the Arbiter positioned himself in the doorway and allowed his focus to roam over the building for any motion.

After a few seconds of waiting and no flak forthcoming, the Chief moved from his cover and advanced further into the space with his weapon drifting between various likely engagement points. Thel followed a second later, far enough back to provide cover fire for the Spartan but close enough to not become separated in a melee.

They were about halfway across the hangar floor when the first spray of bullets kicked up sparks around the Chief as he glanced around the corner of a metal shipping container. Instead of pulling his head back, the Spartan let his shields take a few rounds as he gauged the situation.

Between him and the enemy was about twenty meters of open space, lined by various items along with debris from the collapsed roof overhead. Fourteen targets were currently visible, although it was possible that more were behind barriers and reloading or expecting return fire. Instead of following that prediction, however, the Spartan pulled back behind cover as his energy shield began to consistently glow as it absorbed enemy fire.

Chief turned to look at the Arbiter and motioned for the Sangheili to be ready to charge the enemy lines in a head on attack. While suicidal against the Covenant, the psychological effect of having a seven-foot tall soldier charging a position under withering fire ended up being an effective tactic to break the fighting spirit of the Insurrection fighters. It was likely that the untrained junkers opposing them would break ranks and flee entirely if scared enough.

Thel nodded his agreement with the tactic and took up position behind the Spartan in the typical breach-and-clearing stack. They held that formation for several seconds, waiting for a pause in the hail of rounds. Their opportunity came as several of the enemy ceased fire as they needed to reload or realized that their shots were worthless. His shields recharged and weapon ready, the reduction in firepower was all the Master Chief needed as he burst into motion and darted out from behind his cover. A second later, the outline of a cloaked Sangheili followed, splitting off in the opposite direction so as to get behind enemy lines undetected.

The junkers were obviously unprepared for this moved as their aim did not shift as the Spartan passed through their lines of fire. As he was meandering across the open expanse, Chief sent several quick but accurate bursts at exposed targets. Three junkers went down as their lives were ended by the Spartan. While the Spartan was busy drawing enemy fire, Thel charged the right wing of the barricade.

Unseen and unheard above the din of gunfire, the Sangheili leader approached the unsuspecting junkers. Their fate was sealed as the Arbiter leapt over the hastily-erected barrier, igniting his energy sword as he did so. A swipe to his right cleaved one of his opponents in half and rendered the other disarmed. The junker didn't have time to mourn the loss of his arms as the Arbiter's sword was in the perfect position to stab forwards after his initial sweep.

As the other two enemies present in the immediate area noted the now-visible Sangheili, the energy sword came whipping around to remove both of their heads. With those four down and the junker line compromised, the Arbiter began strafing along the perimeter of the junker defenses. He had already dispatched the rightmost enemy emplacement, so he continued where his last strike had faced him and began the assault.

Chief noted the Arbiter decloak at the edge of the frontline and knew that his part as a distraction was finished. His shields were sitting at about a quarter and he was still about fifteen meters from the start of the junker position. Unluckily, fifteen meters for a Spartan was nothing but distance to accelerate. Within a second he had covered the distance to the barricade, but instead of leaping over as the Arbiter had done, Chief simply lowered his shoulder and went right through it.

Splinters of wood and nails exploded out into the junkers around the area of impact. One unlucky soul was standing directly in the path of the charging warrior as he broke through, resulting in an airborne bag of meat as his innards were pulverized from the sudden and forceful acceleration. The rest of his compatriots fared much better without 450 kilograms of armor and soldier smashing into them.

However, while the resulting debris was relatively harmless compared to a Spartan, the junkers couldn't suppress the instinctive flinch that accompanied the spray. The Master Chief didn't give them any time to regret such an action as he almost instantly gunned down the three closest enemies in a display of speed that would've torn an unaugmented human to pieces.

While the junkers on his right were dealt with by means of MA5 rounds, the two that had survived so far were attempting to react to the situation as best they could. One was still bringing his weapon around from where it had been pointed at the Spartan seconds earlier while the other was reaching for a melee weapon by his feet. Neither achieved their objectives as the Chief planted his elbow in one man's face as he turned, breaking his neck and sending him onto the weapon he had been reaching for. The other received the butt of the Chief's MA5C to the side of his head as the Spartan continued his turn, expertly dispatching anything the moved as befitted his training.

With those six down and an unknown number to go, the Spartan began to acquire new targets. Using the same tactic as his Sangheili partner, Chief had engaged at the endpoint of the junker front, leaving enemies to his right. Down the line, Chief could see the Arbiter chewing through any opponents that stood before him. Not to be outdone, the Spartan started his own spree as he lightly jogged towards the center of the formation.

Any resistance was quickly dispatched with quick taps on the MA5's trigger or a melee strike to vulnerable areas. The futility of their efforts became apparent to the junkers as both warriors were completely unimpeded by the defense presented. As the two warriors closed on each other and the remaining opponents, the junkers finally broke rank and fled in a disorganized mess.

Neither the Arbiter nor Master Chief would easily allow such a threat to escape, a trait which was evident as the Sangheili sheathed his sword and once more took aim with his T-51. The Chief changed from small taps to full automatic to prevent any possible survivor from escaping into the nearby civilian areas.

As the last junker fell, half his head missing from a 7.62 NATO round, the two warriors that had defeated the junkers once more fell into a careful advance through the remaining space of the hangar. It appeared that the last of the forces arrayed against them had fallen in their assault, however, as they made it to the main shipping and receiving port on the opposite side of the building unopposed.

The two had just finished scanning the outside area for any hostile presence when two jets came screaming overhead, showing that official armed forces had arrived to assist in containing the junkers. Shortly afterwards, a helicopter appeared from the same direction, propulsion jets blasting full bore to push the aircraft to its destination. Instead of continuing on, however, the craft suddenly banked as it caught sight of the two warriors.

A wide circle later and the dust and debris around the Sangheili and Spartan was being flung away by powerful waves of wind produced by the archaic means of transport. As the chopper landed, the side door swung open to let out a squad of rifle-wielding soldiers dressed in the BDU's of the Australian Army. As the group made their way to the two armored warriors, both the Master Chief and Arbiter prepared for the inevitable questions to come.


I did not know that you could use ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) faces on FanFiction. Consider me mildly amused. Red tops is British slang for tabloids. Beeb is British for the BBC.

Normal Spartan reaction time: ~20 milliseconds, faster in combat/with AI assistance. Hence, 13 milliseconds is not insane (besides the fact that it is, of course). Human reaction time record: 101 ms, average: ~277 ms, median: 266 ms

Not a lot of Cortana here. Against what are essentially barbarians to modern day, a Spartan hardly needs assistance. If you spot canon mistakes, please point them out. I try to be true but I'm sure I miss some stuff.