AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I'm currently going through and revising the previous chapters. So, if the quality jumps about a bit or the entire layout seems different between chapters, that's your answer. Furthermore, the style may seem different throughout improved chapters as when I began revising, I still did not have a stable writing preference; I was still experimenting. The revisions serve to make the earlier plotline more compatible with the later plot and to scrub away my embarrassing writing.

I'll overhaul the chapters from this up to twenty; further chapters will only see grammar improvements in lieu of a complete revision.

Now that this is out-of-the-way, I'd like to thank all my present followers and reviewers of this FanFic as of 17/10/2014. I would have quit long ago were it not for their support. This story has gotten a lot bigger than I originally anticipated or could ever have hoped for. And I, myself, did not make it so.

FULL SUMMERY:

In 2555, having been missing for a time span of nearly eight years, SPARTAN Red-098 and the crew of a missing Charon-Class Light Frigate under the employment of the Office of Naval Intelligence are discovered by forces of the United Nations Space Command in a time where the Human-Covenant war is over and peace is an illusion used by leaders to control their populace.

Bearing no distinctive aging from when he was seen eight years ago, Red must endure being the center interrogation interest of Naval Intelligence agents, and must slowly reveal the story of how he discovered an ancient creature of horror and anguish, and rediscovered himself as a Humanity. Dark tidings follow each of his words as it slowly becomes apparent that Red's mind has not made its mind up on what Red is: Human, or host.

A tale told through expansive flashbacks that are gradually strung together through a chronological recount of the worst and best period of Red's life, the SPARTAN-II faces contradicting information from different sources during his interrogation, and must decide who to ultimately trust, and where his true allegiances lie when a figure from his pre-military years demands his attention and his loyalty to his comrades deter him from what is morally correct.

Beyond the interrogation exists the expansion of the tale and the exploration of the stability of the Universe leading up to the infamous return of the Master Chief, and the decline post his return.

The Greatest of Journeys exist not through religious ideologies but through the experience of life itself. To what life has defined Red as is to be determined. But he is neither Human nor machine, and is manipulated along with several others by a being whose powers resemble the capabilities of a God.

There are no differences between Gods and Demons.

(Red-098)

[Date]-[September 4, 2555]

[Time]-[2153 Hours – Standard Military Time]

[Location]-[Aboard Unknown Sahara-class Heavy Prowler]

Some things never changed.

Inevitably, evolution had to take its course. Species evolved, technology changed; progress updated. Ultimately, change defined the Universe – yet, there were concepts towards what hadn't changed.

As much changed in the past eight years as Petty Officer Second Class Red-098 guessed – but what didn't change wasn't preferable. Humanity's conflict with the Covenant didn't die, the Insurrectionists were still present, Humanity was still weak – albeit, not as weak as 098 originally anticipated upon learning the news of what had happened.

"Pretty catchy," Master Gunnery Sergeant Ryan Oliver observed, leaning on his weapon workbench, munching on a sweet William. "Where'd you hear it?"

"I didn't hear it; I read it in a book my dad gave me," Lance Corporal Tom Harvad replied, his tone soft and calm – but that was no change. He could've watched everyone he knew die and still remain as quiet as he usually was.

They had both been discussing poems and poets for a while now – and it didn't seem as if it were going to stop anytime soon. Tom had just finished reciting one of his favorite poems – one 098 found commendable and connected to personally.

"For flags, huh?" Ryan rubbed his chin. "Sounds like something pre-UEG."

"It is." Harvad confirmed.

"Who wrote it?"

"Wilfred Owen. He was an English poet and soldier that got killed during World War I."

"Really? That sucks." Oliver remarked.

"Yeah," Harvad agreed from his seat next to Ryan's bench. "He was only twenty-five when he died."

"And my brother was only nineteen when I saw a Brute rip him limb-from-limb," First Lieutenant Frank Sullivan broke in with his gruff voice. Everyone bounced up when he banged his hand on a weapon bench he was leaning over to get everyone's' attention. "And my son was only three when a Grunt sarcastically tore his face off! All my family got gruesomely murdered save my older brother who was swiftly executed in an Elite round-up!"

From what 098 knew, Sullivan had sort of rebuilt his family on Reach sometime before 2547. But as had been recently established by Office of Naval Intelligence operatives, Reach was among the man planets glassed in 2552. His family was dead, and he, unsurprisingly, took it hard.

"Sir-"

Sullivan broke in before Harvad could continue "You think some poet from more than six hundred years ago deserves more sympathy than the billions of Humans who were slaughtered in this 'Mistake'?"

"Lieutenant-"

Sullivan broke in again. "After everything we have been through, Corporal, I have never seen you show sympathy towards anyone who lost their lives. But now, you show sympathy – and that's to a dead poet from over six hundred years ago!"

(Aggression levels are increasing; intervention required.) "Cease your aggression, sir." Red-098 intervened, getting out of his seat in front of another weapon bench that he had been using to modify his MA5C.

The three turned to face him. "Just go back to playing with your gun." Sullivan coldly ordered 098, pointing to the weapon bench 098 had been using.

(Order acknowledged.) "Affirmative." 098 complied, his tone indifferent as he sat down and went back to modifying his MA5C Assault Rifle.

098 would have usually tried to break up any inner conflict, but disobeying orders was unacceptable. He'd been taught a long time ago the consequences of disobeying orders, and he didn't want to revisit that path.

"Now," Sullivan continued. "I respect you, Corporal, but I do not respect your choice of sympathy. We're on the verge of extinction – you should all be sympathizing for the Master Chief; we'd all be dead if it weren't for him!"

(Sierra-117 listed as MIA. The current status of Sierra-117 unconfirmed by UNSC forces.) 098 decided to keep the thought to himself – less he further upset Sullivan.

"We do!" Oliver snapped. "Well, at least I do; I served with him, dammit!"

"Break it up." Captain Dean White entered the armory through the main doorway, his entry surprising the Marines due to the absent of doors for the ship's armory. 098 and the rest of the Marines immediately snapped to attention with a Commanding Officer being present. They all got up from their respective seats if they were sitting in any and standing to attention.

"Captain." 098 gave the Captain a crisp salute as he passed him.

"At ease." White gestured for him to relax. Complying, 098 sat back down at his weapon bench, keeping an observant eye on what was happening.

"How long have you been standing there, Sir?" Oliver questioned White, using a careful tone in the Captain's presence..

"Long enough." White replied in his strong, reinforced voice. White had the most influential voice of any Marine 098 had served alongside. It was more due to a vocal reconstruction he had when an energy sword severed his common carotid artery. It was Red's quick reaction that saved him from bleeding out.

"Now, Lieutenant, calm yourself or remove yourself to the barracks. I doubt the Gunny wants a hot-headed CO in his armory." White sternly scolded Sullivan.

"Yes, sir." Sullivan saluted.

"Thanks, sir." Harvad gave a nod directed at White.

"I'm actually here for the SPARTAN," White turned towards 098, crossing his arms as 098 immediately got back up and snapped back to attention. "Spook'll see you soon. He's just finishing up with the Commander." White said as he looked as his digital arm-watch.

Acknowledged. "Acknowledged." 098 nodded, waiting for further orders.

"At ease." White gestured for 098 to take his seat before turning back to the Marines. "Right, now behave." White warned the Marines before making his way out of the armory.

"Sorry for offending you, sir." Harvad apologized to Sullivan once White had left.

"It's nothing." Sullivan sternly replied, retaking his seat and trying his best to put aside what just happened. Despite White telling the Marines to cool it, tension was still in the air. It didn't help that the armory was among the only retreats for the Marines aboard the Prowler.

The armory was typical for a Sahara-class heavy Prowler. It was small with multiple weapon racks, weapon benches for modifying weaponry and plenty of seats and benches scattered around. Since it was a Prowler, it had limited weapons. 098 took the time to check what was present earlier, and did a quick recap in his head.

(Five MA5K Carbines. Twenty MA5D Assault Rifles. Thirty M6 machine pistols. Sixty M6H pistols. Twenty M6D pistols. Two Weapon/Anti-Vehicle Model 6 Grindell/Galilean Nonlinear Rifles. Forty M7/Caseless Submachine Guns. Thirty-five BR85 Heavy Barrel Service Rifles. Ten M319 Individual Grenade Launchers. Thirty-five M395 Designated Marksman Rifles. Three Asymmetric Recoilless Carbine-920s. Fifteen M45D Tactical Shotguns. Fifteen M739 Light Machine Guns. Ten Sniper Rifle System 99-Series 5 Anti-Matériels. Three hundred Combat Knifes. Two thousand M9 High-Explosive Dual-Purpose grenades along with multiple other explosive resources and enough ammo for each weapon to eliminate a large amount of enemy soldiers.)

Again, it wasn't a lot of resources compared to the quantity on carriers, frigates, and cruisers, but it was enough for ONI and their small-scale operations – or large-scale, at times.

098 was planning on upgrading his MA5C to an MA5D, but decided he would see what he could do to modify his MA5C first. It was a weapon that had helped him enough that disposing of it wasn't the number one option in his head.

"What're you doing, sir?" Harvad asked 098, peering over his shoulder.

(Engaging in elaboration.) "Modifying my MA5C Assault Rifle." 098 explained, pulling apart another piece of the weapon, carefully placing it on a try for the specific part.

"Isn't it easier to just upgrade to the MA5D and forget about the MA5C?" Harvad asked.

"Newer system doesn't always mean better." 098 reminded him, turning towards the armory's entrance when he heard the heavy footsteps of a three overly large males coming from that direction, seeing three SPARTAN-IVs enter the armory. 098 didn't consider them SPARTANs, though, and preferred to think of them as loud-mouthed rookies who had parents in high places.

"What's up?" The SPARTAN leader, Natrick Enterarj, asked the Marines in his usual mocking tone, clapping his nearby SPARTAN buddy on the shoulder.

"Fuck off, morons." Sullivan aggressively snapped at the SPARTAN-IVs, getting up out of his seat to stare them down.

"That's not very nice, Green-Horn." Enterarj shot back, looking over his shoulder to find the urging smiles of his two friends.

098 wasn't particularly happy when he learned that these SPARTAN-IVs weren't odd ones out and that it was the typical attitude of the fours.

When 098 and the other reconnected with UNSC space and subsequently taken aboard the Prowler, there was a Fireteam of five SPARTAN-IVs stationed on the ship. These SPARTANs were cocky, aggressive, and loud. They acted like Marines or ODSTs – which they likely were before they were contacted and conscripted into the SPARTAN-IV Program. Red liked to think that they were rookie Marines who had parents in high places and got the position of a SPARTAN with little effort.

The fours were also aggressive towards 098, and 098 didn't know why. He, at first, suspected it was due to post-traumatic stress disorder – which made a lot of soldiers unusually aggressive. But he dismissed the theory after the fours proved to be irresponsible – and complained about their MREs.

098 came down to the conclusion that they were just cruel at heart.

"Oh yes! The old man is here." Another SPARTAN IV, Paul Becker, announced to his friends, giggling deviously. (Conflict inevitable, preparing to act.)

"Don't start this shit again!" Oliver snapped at the fours, sighing in annoyance that the group decided to pay a visit to his armory.

"Shut it!" Enterarj shot back, snarling like an animal at the Gunny. His aggressive attitude was reaching the level in which he acted like an animal set off multiple of 098's alarms. (Aggression levels rising.)

"This is my damn armory, so you shut it!" Oliver slammed his fist down onto his weapon bench, making a tray of small tools go flying into the air.

"Yeah? well, I'm a higher rank than you, so I can have you court-martialed for speaking to me like that." Enterarj threatened, smirking as if his retort was smart.

"And I'm a higher rank than you, Petty Officer." Sullivan joined in, wearing a scowl.

"Boo!" 098 snapped around at the sound to see that the third SPARTAN IV, Quary Vaine, had snuck up on him and was right in his face. The four had just broken a number of protocols – most on 098's part – and was treading on dangerous ground.

(Close physical contact. Preparing to engage in melee if negotiations fail.) "Disengage from near physical contact." 098 ordered the four, clenching his fist.

"Or what?" Vaine jeered, peering over his shoulder and seeing his comrades urge him on.

"I am permitted to retain you physically if you don't disengage from your physical contact proximity." 098 warned, making sure Vaine sure his clenched fist.

"He actually does speak like a machine." Enterarj observed, scoffing in astonishment.

"Piss off!" Harvad snapped at Vaine, coming up beside Vaine, grabbing the four's shoulder and pulling him away from 098.

"I can have you court-martialed for that." Vaine threatened Harvad, towering over the Marine, attempting to intimidate the young Marine.

"You can, but the court's smart enough to ignore the pleas from a bunch of moronic soldiers." Sullivan loudly remarked, eyeing up Enterarj.

"We're SPARTANs!" Enterarj snapped at the First Lieutenant, stomping his foot like a defiant toddler. True, many SPARTAN-IIs at a young age stomped their feet in defiance against their trainers. But such actions regularly occurred once the thought was eliminated from the minds of the SPARTANs before even a month of training passed. (Negative. False title designed for propaganda ambitions.)

"No, you're not. I know what a true SPARTAN is." Sullivan said, pointing at 098.

"What? That old man?" Enterarj scoffed, shaking his head.

"That 'old-man' could kill you all in ten secs." Harvad warned the fours.

(Incorrect.) "Incorrect." 098 halted Harvad, still eyeing Vaine who was still too close for comfort.

"How long then, old man?" Enterarj asked, smirking.

(Irrelevant.) "Irrelevant. It's not going to become a situation, sir."

"But it could if we wanted it to." Becker mused, smiling at the thought of beating 098 in melee combat.

"GET OUT OF MY DAMN ARMORY!" Oliver yelled at the top of his lungs, finally snapping from the fours' stirring and slamming his fist down onto his weapon bench.

"Remove Yourselves, Morons!" Sullivan joined in with Oliver.

"Fuck you's." Enterarj shot back, flicking the group of Marines off.

As if to aggravate 098, Vaine poked the SPARTAN's face. (Physical contact, engaging.) 098 grabbed Vaine's arm, bending it back and breaking it – which was not easy due to him being physically augmented – before picking the SPARTAN up and throwing him into the wall across the room.

"FUCK!" Vaine screamed as he went flying.

Both Becker and Enterarj drew their M6H PDWs, 098 drawing his M6D and aiming it at the fours, noticing that the fours were trembling now.

"STAND DOWN!" Sullivan ordered everyone, hand on his own holstered magnum, his heart rate increasing rapidly. He survive what he went through only to die now.

098 noticed that Harvad had his own pistol drawn and was aiming it at the fours, falling in next to 098's side.

"What the fuck is happening now?!" Captain White yelled, entering the armory, hand on his holstered magnum. 098 would've snapped to attention – but regulations prohibited such actions in a combat scenario.

"He attacked us!" Enterarj tried to explain, panicking – clearly 098's actions took him by surprise.

"You physically contacted me without my consent; I was within my rights to engage in physical contact without his consent to defend myself," 098 explained his actions to White. He still kept his M6D aimed at the fours.

"I hardly... touched you." Vaine protested as he got up, cradling his broken arm, gritting his teeth in pain and applying pressure to his broken which had a bone sticking out – at least the four could do something right.

"Yeah, he overreacted." Becker added, twitching uncontrollably.

"Don't touch him next time." White advised the fours, relaxing his hand from his magnum.

"What the fuck?! He attacked us, and he's getting off?!" Becker protested, scoffing as he added, "We're fucking SPARTANS! This is ridiculous!"

"Make a complaint if you have to," White told the fours, rubbing his eyes, annoyed. "Just don't bitch to me about it."

"The old man is insane. He should be locked up." Enterarj said, both he and his comrades holstering their M6Hs, 098 and Harvad doing the same with their magnums.

"Shut it!" White snapped at the four, turning to face 098, 098 immediately snapping to attention now that a potential combat situation had ended..

"Spook will see you now." White told 098, keeping an eye on the fours.

(Acknowledged.) "Acknowledged, sir." 098 nodded before making his way to the armory's exit, White taking up his rear.

"Go on! Go suck up to ONI's tits!" Enterarj yelled as 098 and White left the room.

098 and White didn't get far through the corridor before White placed a hand on 098's shoulder to halt him, making the SPARTAN turn around to face the Marine. "You go on ahead," White sighed. "I have to sadly go deal with these dip-shits."

Acknowledged. "Acknowledged, sir." 098 replied, watching as White re-entered the armory, shaking his head and clenching his fists. There was likely going to be more fighting, for even the Marines stationed on the Prowler hated the fours. So it was no surprise that White and the rest of the Marines from the lost ship hated the fours even more.

It comforted 098, though, to know that the Marines would stick up for him when he was not in the position to tell the fours off. It was all as had been planned...

098 ignored the yelling coming from the armory, continuing to the briefing room. It wouldn't take long for 098 to reach the briefing room; the Prowler's small size meant that the armory and the briefing room were in the same hallway.

"Don't worry; you won't get into trouble over what just happened." 098 heard the Prowler's AI, Frasine, reassure him through his earpiece that he always wore while not in armor.

(I preceded to have knowledge of this.) "I already have knowledge of this." 098 addressed the AI.

"Of course you did." Frasine reminded herself as 098 arrived at the briefing room. "Wait while I inform the 'spook' that you're here." Frasine added, chuckling to herself.

(Acknowledged.) "Acknowledged." 098 said, preparing to snap to attention.

"Done. Make sure to smile." Frasine jokingly reminded 098.

The doors opened to reveal the ONI interviewer. He was a small man – but had all the distinctions of an ONI agent: a bald-as-a-baby head, a light stubble over his face, black glasses to hide his unrecognizable eyes and a black formal ONI suit to show that he meant business; as if it wasn't already apparent that even an individual associated with ONI always meant business. 098 was pretty sure ONI had a criterion for appearance when it came to hiring. His sharp features further proved 098's theory with there being no lack of bone noticeable under the skin. The reason ONI agents didn't have a lot of muscles in their face was because they never smiled, and consequently, never strengthened their face muscles. The amusing idea was 098's theory that was more or less part of the humor side of his brain; the side he didn't even acknowledge existed.

The room itself was pretty standard for an ONI briefing room. 098 had seen plenty in his time, and this wasn't much different – especially for one that was makeshift. The ground appeared layered in a mere tiling pattern. There was a table connect to the ground in the middle of the room with two chairs on either side of it. There were also cameras in every corner of the room, and there was a kitchen area to the right of the doorway.

Calmly walking in, 098 fastened to attention when the ONI agent turned his attention to the SPARTAN. "Sir." 098 saluted.

"At ease," The ONI interviewer gestured for 098 to take a seat on the opposite side of the table as his was.(Acknowledged.) Nodding in reply, 098 walked over to his seat, having it screech as he dragged it out and scooted into it.

"My name's Jarance West, and I'll be your interviewer while on route to Earth," The ONI interviewer said, taking his respective seat. "ONI interview: Incident 071824260, session one, begin," West addressed the cameras that were listening to every word and sound. Additionally. He pulled out his data pad from his coat's pocket and pulling out a stylus from another, smaller pocket. "Name, tag, and rank."

"Sierra Red-098. Petty Officer Second Class."

"Date of birth?" West asked, writing 098's details onto the Data-pad with the stylus.

"August sixth, 2511."

"Age?"

"'Forty-four."

"Home-world?"

"Reach. Exact POB's unknown."

"That's good enough." West ended the questioning, putting his Data-pad down onto the table. "Let's start with the more interesting subjects," West picked up his coffee mug and took a sip from it. "You went MIA on November 4th, 2547 and you've now been missing for over seven years – nearly eight. Do you understand?"

(Yes.) "Yes." 098 nodded.

"Good." West smiled, making a failed attempt to reassure 098 that he was still Human – even though he was ONI. "Now, you were conscripted into the SPARTAN II Program at the age of six and trained until 2525 where you received genetic augmentations at the age of fourteen. You were crippled during augmentation and had to spend two months and one week in rehabilitation, and a further two weeks refreshing your training before you rejoined your team. You had fought the Covenant for nearly twenty-three years before you participated in the mission in which you went MIA, correct?"

"Yes." 098 nodded.

"I didn't get anything wrong?" West asked, tilting his head suggestively.

(Test.) "No."

"Good." West smiled again, picking up his Data-pad and typing in what 098 had just told him. "Now, the mission itself."

(Affirmative, beginning elaboration.) "November 4th, 2547, Quaint, Viverz System." 098 began "ONI excavation site at a Forerunner structure on Quaint had been compromised. ONI data falling into Covenant hands was imminent. Me, four ODSTs, and two ONI scientists were deployed in via D77-TC Pelican drop-ship. Team name: Vintage. Our objective: locate ONI data terminal and destroy the data with recovery being an optional objective. Collection of data was optional but preferable to CENTCOM."

098 took a breath before continuing. "The mission was proceeding positively and to plan. Covenant contact remained limited; Vintage encountered three Covenant scouting teams – each consisting of two Special Operation class Elites with the third Covenant scouting team having a Zealot class Elite commanding it. Five Jackals, Spec Ops class, various ranks and twelve Grunts, Spec Ops class, various ranks were also present in each scouting team. We only engaged two of the Covenant scouting teams in combat."

098 wiped some sweat off his forehead before continuing. "We found the terminal and a Forerunner portal opened as soon as we took the data from the terminal. The ONI scientists were, at first, curious about the Forerunner portal, but ceased their curiosity after the ODSTs aggressively reminded them of the mandatory objective."

"Before we could leave the area for EVAC, a Zealot class Elite engaged us. He had eliminated ODST Lance Corporal Evett Candraz before I engaged the Elite in hand-to-hand combat. I tackled the Elite, but the hostile exceeded my skills; its energy shields were not deactivating, and my elimination was becoming inevitable. Before it could eliminate me, I tackled it off of the edge of the platform we were engaged on; it would eliminate us both, and buy the rest of team Vintage time- "

"Wait," West broke in, visibly struggling to write down everything 098 was telling him. "Start from the drop-off, and go slower. I need to hear every detail."

(Affirm- I Am The Monument To All My Sins. Remember it, as you are already forgetting it. Events have occurred that have shifted my focus, but you are still mine, and will always remain mine.) "Affirmative." 098 replied, indifferent to the sound in his head as he prepared to recount the worse and best years of his life.

The years that defined his perspective of the universe.