Chapter 2

Arcadia: October 9, 2549

*BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM*

You unload a clip from your assault rifle into an elite, dropping its shield and ending its life seconds later.

As you crouch back down into cover, several marines stand up and unload their guns into the oncoming Covenant. The alien squads’ blood floats in the air like a cyan cloud for a split second, before falling to the ground and mixing together into a thick brown puddle.

“CEASE FIRE!” you shout, “They’re falling back.”

You use this moment of peace to reload your weapon. Reaching down to your belt to grab a full magazine, you discover that you are all out of ammo.

“Damnit.”

“Need a gun, Solus?”  A voice calls from behind you.

You turn around and see a young man standing behind you. A thin layer of blonde hair covers the top of his head, and even though his face is smeared with purple gore, you can make out two bright blue eyes beneath the alien muck. His right hand holds a silenced SMG out for you to take, while his left arm cradles a dented ODST helmet.

“Thanks, Webber,” you say, flipping the gun from ‘safe’ to ‘full-auto’. “I owe you one.”

He gives you a fake evil eye. “Its okay, I like pistols more, and how many time have I asked you to not call me Webber?”

“The same amount of times I’ve told you to not call me Solus.” you shoot back. You hate that stupid codename. It translates into ‘alone’, and that’s not something you want to be.

Webber pulls a packet of Sweet William cigars from an ammo pouch attached to his waist. He offers you one, which you decline, and then offers them to the remaining members of your squad. No one accepts.

“Fine, suit yourselves,” he says as he lights one for himself. “So what’s the plan?”

You take a moment to observe your surroundings. The small neighborhood you were held up in was called Abaskun, a farming community on the planet Arcadia. Eleven years ago this world was full of life, but that changed when the aliens attacked it. The UNSC Spirit of Fire had beaten the extraterrestrials, but now they were back.

You had jumped into the small town feet first with Sgt. Webber and eighteen other ODSTs, aiding ground forces in evacuating civilians. All the transports got away, but it cost you nearly all your men. All in all, only six soldiers remained.

“ I made contact with colonel Holland requesting an evac.” you start. “He’s sending a Pelican to pick us up. We hold our position here until it arrives, which will be about fifteen minutes.”

Webber turned to face the troopers. “You heard the Lieutenant, take up defensive positions. Ramsey, I want you and Heyman on top of the police station over there, and Dan I need you...”

As Webber continued to hand out orders, you prepare yourself for the oncoming battle. The SMG you had been given had five full magazines. Besides that all you had were two frag and plasma grenades. It wasn't much, but thankfully you had five other trained killers by your side with their own equipment.

Soon everyone was ready, all you had to do now was wait.

Minutes passed by, but they seemed like hours. Fear of what lay just beyond the village consumed everyone’s mind.

Suddenly, several large apelike creatures, Brutes, charged into the small town. The sound of their spiker rifles rang in your ears, but it would take more then noise to stop you.

You exit your cover to fire into the massive crowd of oncoming aliens.

*pftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpft* *pftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpftpft*

The first volley of bullets knock a Brute’s helmet off, causing it to stumble backwards. The last few enter the beast’s head; filling its face full of lead, and spraying its brains into the open.

You quickly turn to a new target and spray a swath of ballistics into its legs. The creature goes down hard, slamming its head into the dirt.

You duck back into cover to reload. The new magazine slides in with ease, just as the old one had slid out.

You risk a glance at the other ODSTs to see how they are holding up.

Webber was a few yards away crouching behind an overturned Warthog, blindly firing his M6C from around the corner of the demolished vehicle. Though most of his shots missed, the ones that did hit their mark had a devastating effect on the Brutes. Kneecaps exploded and shin bones shattered as the .50 caliber rounds hit them, sending the aliens to the ground to die in agony.

The other ODSTs were doing just as well. The two that had been posted on top of the police station rained suppressive fire into the fray, allowing the other two soldiers to pick targets and take them out using more accurate weapons.

You stand up again and unleash another barrage of bullets into the remaining Brutes. One of them is struck in the chest several times, and dies before it hits the ground. The last alien takes a few rounds to the shoulder. The wound isn’t fatal and only causes the animal to go into a frenzied rage. It charges at you full force, slamming its hard head into your gut.

The blow is powerful enough to knock your shields down, the remaining force being absorbed by your MJOLNIR armor. You manage to stay standing, planting your feet firmly on the ground and pushing back against the Brute. With some effort, you manage to shove the thing back, following up with a savage uppercut to its face. The alien’s jaw explodes into a mixture of blood and splintered bone. It immediately falls to the ground, where it cradles what’s left of the lower half of its head. You end its life with a quick slice from your combat knife, slitting its throat and splattering red gore all over yourself. You slowly stand up, slightly appalled by what you had just done. In all your years of combat you had never brutalized an enemy like that before. Looking down at your own handiwork sent a slight shiver down your spine.

“Damn lieutenant, that’s one hell of a way to kill someone. Makes me glad I’m fighting with you and not the Covenant.”

Webber’s lighthearted comment seems to blow away the cloud of shock that had suddenly formed over your head. At first you grin at the sergeant’s smug comment, but soon enough you find yourself laughing. Webber shrugs his shoulders.

“Never thought of myself as a funny guy, but by the way your acting I’m starting to think that I should’ve been a comedian.”

“Yeah..*pant*..but then..*pant*..I wouldn’t have..*pant*.. a friend.” you state between breaths.

The broken statement seems to have an effect on Webber. His smile disappears and his eyes fall to the ground. It was as if he those few words made him feel like he would throw-up.

“ Anyway,” he began as he turns away. “Ramsey cant see any Covenant outside the town, so we can assume the fighting is done, and our evac should be here any minute now. I’m going to get everyone else down here to clear a spot for our bird to lan-”

“RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!”

Webber spins around and his face transforms into a mask of terror.

“SOLUS GET DOWN!!!” He cries out.

You turn your head and see something that made your heart skip a beat. A Brute chieftain was right behind you, swinging its Gravity Hammer like a baseball bat toward your head.

The thing was too close! Could you dodge it? Could you block it? You raise your hands in an attempt to catch the weapon before it connects with you. Hopefully, you could stop the blow and disarm the Brute, but the chances of success were slim.

Suddenly something grabs you from behind and pulls you the ground. You land on your back and see the Brute’s weapon swing over you and connect with something just outside your field of vision. The object it hit is sent flying and slams into the side of a nearby building with a sickening “SPLAT!”

You don’t know for sure what that thing was, but you have a pretty good idea. A sudden rage begins to boil inside of you, and with this immense anger comes a tidal wave of pure adrenaline. In a matter of seconds, you kick the Brute’s legs out from beneath it, and get on top of it. All your hatred goes straight to your fists as you bring them down onto aliens face with blow after blow. Your brutal assault ends when you grab the Chieftain’s jaw, and with a loud tearing sound, separate it from the alien’s head.

You accomplished what may have traumatized others for life without a moment’s hesitation. None of this crossed your mind though, all you wanted to do was get to that thing that now lay in a crumpled heap near the base of the building it had collided with.

You stand over the broken body of Sergeant Calvin Webber. His right arm and leg are twisted at awkward angles, and his face is smothered in his own blood and bone fragments.

As carefully as you can, you pick him up, making sure that his head is positioned comfortably in your arms. You don’t say a single word as you walk towards the landing zone, desperately hoping that the Pelicans will arrive soon.

You feel as if you have failed, failed as a soldier, as a Spartan, as a friend. If Webber died, you would be all alone, becoming the Solus you despised.

________________________________________________________________________

It had been three years since that day.

Thankfully, the evacuation team arrived shortly after the confrontation. You and the other ODSTs were taken away to safety and Webber received proper medical attention.

If he was a normal soldier, then the surgeons would have patched him up the best they could and then either sent him home in a wheelchair or in a box.

Fortunately, he was anything but normal.

As soon as ONI caught wind of what happened they immediately sent a team of their best doctors to treat Webber.

But why?

That confused you, so you immediately began doing research. After days of reading dozens of classified files you found what you were looking for. Four documents answered your question; a volunteer roster for a biochemical test called ORION, a certificate of marriage, a certificate of birth, and an ONI personnel profile. Now all the pieces fit together.

In the mid 2490’s ONI had begun to perform biochemical tests on volunteers, these augmentations, dubbed ORION or SPARTAN I, lead to the development of the SPARTAN II project. Since all the test subjects were volunteers though, they were allowed to leave and live out their lives as they saw fit. That meant they could get married, and have children. When a subject had a child some of their augmentations were passed onto their offspring. These children were labeled SPARTAN 1.1s, and Webber was one of those children. That meant he could run faster, jump higher, and lift more weight then the average human being.

Webber’s deployment was supposed to be a test to see if the SPARTAN 1.1s were capable of combat. His incapacitation had been a major setback, and ONI still needed him. That meant they would do anything to keep him alive.

And now you were about to see how well they did in fixing the broken man.

________________________________________________________________________

UNSC Thermopylae: Present day.

The hangar doors slide open to reveal a massive room full of vehicles and supply crates. Dozens of people run around, trying to find the right tool or part needed to fix the many damaged ships. These people are all a blur to you. The only person who in the room to you who isn’t a shadow is an ODST leaning against a scorched Pelican. You wade through the crowd of bodies and finally reach the damaged ship. By the time you get there you can see the soldier in all his ‘glory.’

He wears standard ODST battle armor with the words ‘grunt killer’ carved into the chest piece. Synthetic limbs replace the soldier’s right arm and leg, and his headgear isn’t customary. Instead of a normal ODST headdress he seems to wear a  helmet resembling the Spartan GUNGNIR variant. Said helmet is lifted slightly above his mouth, where a lit cigar smolders.

Without a doubt, this man was Webber.