Greetings to new and returning readers. I just wanted to let you know that I'm Alone's sequel, I'm Alone: Exalt, has been published! So, for any new readers, you have something to look forward to after reading through this story, and returning readers, you can hop over and check it out now!

Alright, thank you, and enjoy the story!

Chapter One: Skopje Night Lights

Most nights on Skopje were moonless and starless. Like any other night, a blanket of pure, unbreakable darkness hung over the vast urban networks that sprawled across the terraformed grasslands and valleys. Rain steadily cascaded downwards. It was as dark as it could get. Yet, despite the natural blackout, the cities always cast a pale glow skyward. One such city was Lionel, one of the oldest colony populace center on Skopje. A few yellow and white lights from its many skyscrapers, warehouses, factories, and residential areas attributed somewhat to the ghostly glare, but in the middle of the night there were few folk who weren't asleep. It was a quiet, old place. The real source of the refulgent light came from the building yards nestled along the coastline of the city. These sites were the most brightly lit and alive with activity no matter what time of day it was. These lights ranged from orange sparks emanating from tools, white beams from projector lights, and a dark yellow ambience from staging lights set along worker's platforms and walkways that lined the silver armor plating slowly being built into the shape of starships. The yards and their lights could be seen from any part of Lionel City or the surrounding landscape. Always accompanying the dull radiance and flashes was an eerie orchestra of noise that drifted over the gentle breeze coming from the sea. It was composed of harsh yelling, metallic clattering of heavy machinery, whirring engines, hissing steam and laser precision welding tools, rattling drills, and the occasional bout of laughter from a crew on break drifted from the yards.

Once slow and hushed, Lionel City's shipyards were constantly tasked and had been for the past twelve years. Instead of luxury liners and colonization vessels, frigates, destroyers, and cruisers were being produced as fast as possible. The Covenant threat was far away from Skopje and the other Inner Colonies, but with reports of the genocidal devastation being delivered unto the Outer Colonies a sense of trepidation and fear gripped the tens of thousands of Lionel residents who listened to the familiar sounds of the shipyards at night.

The more active threat to the colonists, however, came from their old enemy. Several contingents of Insurrectionists had begun to filter into the Inner Colonies, losing ground and influence in the Outer Colonies. Quietly, they began to spread anti-UNSC propaganda, started thieving from their outposts, and were trying to recruit colonists to their beliefs.

And such dread of Insurrectionist activity was only fueled when Lionel City heard the small fleet of Pelican dropships descend from the midnight sky.

In a small town just outside Lionel City, there sat a small apartment building complex. Inside, a fifteen year old girl sat down defeatedly at the kitchen table. She rested her face in the palms of her hands, briefly listening to the distant sounds of the shipyards mingling with the whist of rain. Her parents were there right now. They wouldn't be back until around six in the morning. In peacetime, they would have been considered crazy for working such backbreaking hours. But peace was a long forgotten, strange entity. Her mother and father weren't working double shifts nearly every day because they wanted the extra pay or promotions. They were there because they were both devoted to the cause, and knew they could still be a part of the war effort even if they couldn't pick up a rifle anymore. Making sure the titanium armor settled firmly was just as important as any other job in the UNSC, they believed.

She wondered what they would think of her right now, knowing she was in this apartment, talking with these people.

"Vivian, this is the right choice," Carla said, lightly slamming her hands on the table. Her hazel eyes gazed menacingly at Vivian. Vivian knew that glare. She had seen it since she was little. Carla had always been strong and defiant. She had unceasingly defended her when kids tried to pick on her at school. That's the way it always was; the big sister she always wanted, who now, unfortunately, was ready to pummel her.

Vivian's more calm friend, Joanna, put a gentle hand on Carla's shoulder.

"Go easy on her," she said, not soothingly but not too firmly, "we're not here to scare her."

Joanna was the definition of level-headedness. They often teased her and called her the group leader, a title she ultimately despised even when they were little. But she was the oldest at seventeen, and already had the features of an adult. She was tall, with neat hair, and she wore her clothes maturely.

"Yeah, we're just here to coerce, oh I mean, help her make a decision," joked Willow, who was sitting with her feet propped up on the table. She was wisecracker by nature, although not particularly funny. Willow's pale blonde hair matched her pale skin. Her attitude often landed them in trouble throughout their lives. She sat up and groaned, "Look Viv, we're your friends, we've been friends since, like, before preschool. You can't ditch us like this."

Vivian frowned.

"I never thought I'd be peer-pressured by you guys," she murmured.

The others grumbled, glared, or rolled their eyes. Vivian pushed a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, anxiously

"Don't even bring that crap up. That's not what this is. This is more important than anything we've ever done," said Andrea, storming out from the darkness of the small living room. Vivian let herself look past her angry friend into the living room. Apparently, from what they told her when she arrived, someone told them this meeting had to be secretive. Vivian didn't know who that someone was, although she imagined it was probably the crook who got them all thinking this way in the first place. And whoever he or she was, they had her friends wrapped around their finger; the windows had dark curtains covering them, and the door and all of the windows were locked. The small living space was filled with a pair of stained couches, a few weathered armchairs, plus a crummy futon. The only lights were situated in the kitchen area, where they sat at the table. The apartment hardly felt like a fortress, let alone a secretive place.

Her brief train of thought was broken as Andrea approached the table, forcibly pulled a chair out, and sat down with a great amount of frustration evident in her posture.

"Vivian, we're not little kids anymore," she growled, "we're almost adults. And we're not stupid either. We know what's going on. The guy we talked to said humanity is being wiped out by the millions every single day. The people in the Outer Colonies are being slaughtered and murdered in droves. And the UNSC is hardly lifting a finger!"

Andrea's red hair matched her passionate personality. Her dark eyes always struck Vivian, not only in their beauty but in their fierceness. Those piercing eyes defused numerous situations before they came to a head. They were enough to make anyone's fortitude melt. But for once she was resolved; she wasn't going to cave in from that stare.

"Rea, that's just complete garbage," she started, shaking her head, "you think those aliens are just coming to each world and burning everyone alive while the UNSC ships just sit there and watch? You're an idiot to believe that kind of propaganda. UNSC people are dying trying to save the Outer Colonists, the people who Insurrectionists have basically hated and fought against for like, I dunno, forty years! Isn't that enough proof that the UNSC is doing all it can do? My dad told me about a ship that saved a whole bunch of people and the entire Arcadia colony. That was in 2531, and now it's 2537, and the UNSC is still dying for the Outer Colonies."

"Why're you defending them so much?" Joanna demanded.

"Yeah, I thought you said you don't like them all too much," Carla added, "you've bad-mouthed them plenty of times before."

"And that's coming from a girl with ex-Marines for parents," Willow said with a wave of her hand.

"You're right, I don't like them, but I respect them enough for what they're doing and what they stand for. And so should you, so wake up guys. I mean, are we seriously having this discussion? We're just a bunch of teenagers! What do we know?"

Vivian found herself standing up and staring angrily at her friends. Her hands were gripping the edge of the table and her lips were drawn into a scowl. Joanna, Carla, Andrea, and Willow exchanged glances. They had each gauged Vivian and were now looking to each other to see what their next step should be.

"No, Viv, you wake up."

Rosanne walked over from where she had been standing at the window. If there was anyone who could be called serious, it was Rosanne. Her unflinching attitude existed since she was very young. She wasn't quick to laugh or smile, and those rarities were only displayed for the other teeangers standing in the room.

She walked over and put a hand on Vivian's arm.

"Vivian, we believe in the Insurrectionists' ideals. They want independence. They want freedom. Those are rights every human being deserves. The UNSC tried to take those away, and they've been trying for forty years."

Vivian took a step away, pulling her arm away from Rosanne's light grasp. She rubbed her temples aggravatedly before turning back to face her.

"Rosanne, be real. The CAA was a mess! It was putting all these restrictions on the Outer Colonies while making no progressive moves. The Insurrectionists tried to be reasonable, then got fed up with performing protests and started becoming violent. They became terrorists! The UNSC had to respond with violence."

Rosanne shrugged.

"Whatever the case-"

"There is no case!" cried Vivian, "That's the way it was! You guys are letting the rebels brainwash you with bogus propaganda nonsense! We all know better than that!"

Then Joanna cut in.

"It doesn't matter! The UNSC can't win this fight against the Covenant. Even if they do, what will it be like after the war?"

Carla nodded in agreement.

"The UNSC will be so afraid of the Insurrection afterwards they'll start putting those same restrictions on the Inner Colonies."

"The people we spoke to have the right of it," stated Andrea. "The best thing to do is gather food, equipment, and basically whatever supplies we need to sustain ourselves and hunker down in remote areas and sit it out.

Willow leaned forward, smiling.

"And the Covenant will just bypass us, they won't even notice or bother with little groups. We can live a free, safe life."

Everyone continued to make their points but Vivian shut her eyes tight, shaking her head. She drowned out their voices. It was too much for her. Rosanne, Joanna, Carla, Willow, and Andrea had been her closest friends, her only friends, since they were three years old. They had been bullied, picked on, and humiliated together. They had sleepovers, dinner parties, movie and game nights, study sessions, and had become high school's high honor students together. Now, Vivian felt betrayed by them. Having each others' backs was the group code and here they were trying to convince her to leave all she knew behind. That all but decimated their unspoken rule.

What made it even worse was that Vivian sympathized with them and the people they wished to join. She had always been interested in any history that could be researched, and with the Insurrection period still in effect, there was plenty of information on it. The Colonial Administration Authority made the Outer Colonies' lives a living hell. No person, no matter their beliefs, Vivian thought, should have to carry the enormous weights of ridiculous regulations and apathetic authority on their shoulders. Vivian couldn't abide violence but when protests and negotiations fail, what else is there? One could sit there and take it on the chin, or fight back. She believed in freedom and independence. History proved that peoples and nations had achieved those goals often through war, a war that usually followed lengthy peaceful methods. And more often than not, these underdogs won in some way. Wouldn't it be ideal to join them, follow their strategies, and live in undoctored freedom where there was a chance annihilation would give them a miss?

Yet something tugged at the back of her mind. A thought, an idea. Was the UNSC not one of those underdogs right now? Here was the UNSC, fighting on behalf of all humankind to preserve their colonies and their way of life from a race of aliens who believed it was their mission to destroy them. That made them a defender of freedom, or perhaps a guardian of something even greater. Not just the right to say, do, think, and live the way one wanted to, but the right to exist. That was a form of freedom fighting that humanity as a whole had never faced before. A fight for the future.

Vivian opened her eyes and sighed, causing the others to quiet themselves. She looked at every one of her friends, five girls she had known since she was a toddler that had grown up with her into young women. They each stared back at her with hopeful and expectant eyes.

She took a deep breath.

"No."

The others' brightened faces darkened and their brief exhilarated expressions deflated.

"Why?" Joanna whispered, "The UNSC can't win. We can survive if we go with the Insurrectionists."

"And do what? Steal ships, weapons, food, and supplies that people all over the galaxy need?" Vivian shook her head, "No, I won't have a part in that. I know I'm not a soldier, but if I was, I know I'd be behind the fight for freedom and independence, but I wouldn't be willing to target innocent people and their property and their necessities just because they are under a different flag."

Willow groaned.

"Viv, normal people wouldn't get hurt, they'd-"

"Oh, yeah? Didn't you pay attention in history class? Millions of innocent people who were just trying to get by were killed by both the Insurrectionists and the UNSC. The rebels aren't any better than the UNSC, and the UNSC is no better than the rebels, except for the fact that the UNSC don't target Insurrectionist civilians on purpose."

The others shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting away from Vivian.

"But I won't stop you," she continued, "and I won't fight you. It's your choice. You can choose a side and leave your families behind for some rebel snake charmers."

"And you won't?" Rosanne murmured. "You'll just stay in the middle?"

"Yeah, that's right," Vivian stated menacingly, glaring at Rosanne. The latter's mouth opened a little in astonishment, before it pressed once more into a tightened line.

There was a long pause. After some time, Carla sighed.

"Viv, we don't want to do this without you. We've been together forever, done everything together. We don't want to go without you."

Vivian suddenly felt terribly sad. Part of her felt that it was a guilt trip, but Carla was one of the most honest people she knew and she could feel the genuineness in her voice.

"And I don't want you to go. And I don't want you to leave your families behind, especially at a time like this. I certainly don't want you to leave me behind. But," Vivian offered a somber smile, "I love you guys. You're my best friends and I respect you enough to let you make your own decisions."

There was a long, dreadfully painful silence. One by one Vivian's friends seemed to sag in their seats. Their stiffened postures sank and sadness clouded their eyes. Then, they all managed to smile. Their eyes were watery, their lips trembled. Vivian felt her heart skip a beat. This was it. This was going to be goodbye. This was going to be the final time she ever laid on her only friends, her best friends. Twelve years of incredible bondship was dissipating before her very eyes.

Oh, God...

"We'll miss you," Joanna finally croaked out, holding back a sob.

Carla nodded in agreement.

"We'll think about you all the time."

Andrea wiped her nose.

"We'll stay out of trouble, so don't worry about us."

"Maybe we'll send you some vid-mails from time to time when no one's looking, just like we used to do when we were grounded," Willow added, feigning a cheeky smile to compensate for the tears rolling down her cheeks.

A labored sigh escaped Rosanne's lips before they formed a smile.

"Just promise that you won't forget us."

Vivian felt hot tears stream down her face as everyone got up and approached her. Rosanne grasped Vivian's hand, "Please, don't ever forget us, or why we left. Never forget."

"I won't, I promise," Vivian smiled encouragingly, before hugging her friend.

Before the others could join the embrace, there was a click, and the door to their apartment flew open, slamming against the wall. The six teens all jumped and gasped as a tall figure wearing aged ballistic armor with a grayish hue to it entered the room. He wore a balaclava that covered his whole head and had two holes cut in it for his eyes.

The others tensed at his appearance, while Vivian stood in confusion.

"Ward, what's wrong? Why'd you barge in here? I thought you were keeping watch while the meetings took place," Joanna said quickly.

"That's why I'm here. We heard a whisper from some sympathizers in Lionel City. The UNSC is sending some kind of strike force here, they must have gotten wind of our meeting."

"How!?" Carla snapped.

"We've probably got a leak somewhere in our higher up division. It doesn't matter, I brought you these."

That was when Vivian noticed he was carrying a small crate. He set it down on the table and took the lid off. He procured five M6 series pistols. Vivian knew the iconic weapon well; both her parents were allowed to keep their sidearms after they were discharged. The pistols were kept in a safe in her parents' bedroom.

But that thought was far from her mind as fear began to grip her chest. Her companions visibly paled.

"It's just in case, I doubt you'll have to use them. My bet is those UNSC pigs are taking their sweet time setting up a raid here. I'm gonna escort you to the safe zone outside the town and then help you get back to your homes, alright? First you all need to arm up and take a couple magazines. Like I said, just a precaution."

Everyone hesitated for a few moments. The rebel, Ward, had dark eyes and they stared at each of Vivian's friends expectantly.

Surprisingly, Joanna was the first to pick up one of the handguns. Since she was considered to be the most passive of the group on top of being the wisest, Vivian was all too shocked to see Joanna hold it in one of her small, slender hands.

"Well, you've never done wrong by us, Ward. You heard him guys."

Everyone else, save Vivian, took up arms. Ward was holding a pistol as well. Vivian was scared. He had an even tone to his voice that just didn't match his rugged, imposing demeanour. From what she heard Joanna say, he was probably the one who had convinced them to join the Insurrectionists. Vivian's fear of him doubled to dislike. Aside from that, her growing uneasiness had sprung up from the UNSC's presence. She may have respected them to a degree but she held no great love for them, even if her parents had served. All the same, she didn't want to be caught with the Rebels and be taken prisoner. Hating herself, she accepted the fact that she had to rely on the Insurrectionists to get her out of this mess.

Ward walked over to one of the windows. The shades had been pulled down to conceal the few lights that had been on during the meeting.

"Okay," Ward stated, "I can see some of the other groups starting to leave their spots. I think we should wait half a minute to give them a little space, and then follow after them. How does that sound?"

Vivian was watching him as he spoke while the others fumbled to get the ammunition magazines for their new weapons into their small pockets. As he finished his sentence he had turned to look back at them.

Suddenly there was a breaking of glass, a massive fleshy thump sound, and Ward released only a grunt as he was thrown off his feet and landed in the center of the living room on top of the coffee table.

Vivian was frozen to her spot as she heard the report of a long range rifle shot. She watched, shaking, as blood oozed from the gaping hole in Ward's chest.

"Oh my god," murmured one of her friends.

The sound of gunfire broke the silence of the night, followed a mere moment after by terrified screaming and harsh military voices barking commands.

"Shit!"

"They're already here," Carla pulled one of the curtains back, and Vivian caught a glimpse of bright yellow flashes dashing away the darkness with every blast of gunfire.

Vivian felt someone grab her roughly by the shoulders. Rosanne pulled her into the kitchen and opened the tall pantry door beside the fridge. There was enough space for a person to stand or sit in the pantry with the door closed.

"Wait, Rosanne-"

"Shut up Viv," her friend growled and roughly shoved her inside, "shut up and listen to me. Do not get out of there until the noise dies down or at least moves away. No matter what happens, do not get out of there until you're positive they're far enough away so you can leave. Okay?"

Vivian nodded violently, her hair loosely falling around her horrified face.

"It'll be okay Viv," Joanna said from across the room with a melancholy smile.

"Hear that? They're coming up the steps! What do we do!?" Willow hissed.

Rosanne pushed Vivian to a sitting position and closed the door.

"Shut off the lights!" Andrea whispered, and within a moment the apartment was dark.

The pantry door had slats in the center from top to bottom. The spaces between them were just large enough so that Vivian could peer through. Her friends became shadows in the darkened apartment. They stood as still as statues. Vivian knew who was where, even in the dark. She knew their figures all too well. Willow had her ear pressed to the locked door to the apartment, although she was mostly out of sight. Joanna stood in the back of the living room, a couple of feet away from the center coffee table where Ward's body had come to rest. Andrea and Carla were to the left of the kitchen table, directly across from the pantry. Finally, Rosanne was just behind the table, but not in the way of Vivian's view. Vivian thought she saw Roseanne swipe a knife from the table into her sweatshirt pocket.

The only sounds to be heard besides the rampaging bullet storm outside were the seemingly never ending pounding of booted feet hastily making their way up the apartment steps. The building itself was around seven stories tall, and they were at the very top. Vivian heard other doors being smashed to splinters, followed by quick pleas or defiant hollering then by gunfire and painful howling. Louder and louder the cacophony became. It seemed as though the entire building was shaking. Vivian squeezed her eyes shut, hugging her knees as close to her chest as she could get them.

Eventually, the noise inside the building abruptly ended. Vivian opened her eyes and surveyed the apartment once more. She heard a muffled breath from one of her friends, a sniffle from another. They remained still, and remained quiet.

The door burst open and struck Willow. Vivian saw her stumble from the impact and hit the wall behind her. A bright white light suddenly illuminated her. Vivian could see her fear-filled face perfectly.

"Freeze! Drop the weapon!"

Willow was still recovering from the impact, her face was filled with fear. Her eyes were wide, her teeth clenched. Her hair was loose and was starting to fall over her face.

"Drop the weapon!" the voice barked.

Willow was shaking. Vivian's breath stopped as she saw her friend's eyes focus. Willow snapped her arm up, aiming the pistol. Before she was able to fire, a burst from an assault rifle was fired. Despite the yellow flashes from the barrel hurting her eyes, Vivian saw the rounds striking her, bloodying her torso. Her body slid down the wall, hit the floor, and crumpled to the side.

Someone darted into the room and raised their assault rifle. A flashlight was attached to the underside of the barrel and it flashed onto Joanna. The attacker began firing. In the brief flares of yellow light from the rifle, Vivian could see that the soldier wore dark green ballistic armor with rigid alloy coverings over camouflage fatigues. The burst he fired found its mark in Joanna's gut, which tore her open. She let out a brief, sharp cry before she doubled over, dead.

"Murderer!" one of her surviving friends shouted. The attacker swept his rifle from left to right, emptying his clip into the kitchen. The white light beaming from the underbarrel flashlight followed with it. Bullets tore into the wooden cupboards, sliced through metal surfaces, and shattered glass cups. Even as the rounds flew through the pantry door right over her head and splinters rained down on her, Vivian watched as Roseanne, Andrea, and Carla were riddled. In the light, she saw blood and bits of flesh fly from their bodies, watched them shudder as round after round hit them. But what Vivian saw the most clearly out of everything that was occurring before her, was the shooter's young face. The soldier wore a helmet and goggles, but his lower face was uncovered. She saw that his lips were parted and his perfectly white teeth were gritting together as he swept his rifle across the room, his upper body shaking from the recoil of the assault he finally ran out of ammunition, Vivian's three remaining friends all collapsed to the floor.

It was over in less than fifteen seconds.

Vivian wondered for a moment if she had died, if one of the bullets had landed in her brain or her heart. She realized after a few seconds that she was indeed alive, and that she could not begin to comprehend what she had just beheld.

"Ah Jesus, Jesus Christ..." she heard the killer murmur to himself.

Darkness had returned to the room, but the silence only stayed briefly. There was a moan from in front of her, and she realized that Roseanne was still alive. She heard the UNSC Marine slowly make his way over to her, reloading his rifle. His leather boots crunched over glass and shards of wood. Finally he stood over Roseanne, who was a undetailed black form in Vivian's vision until the marine flicked on the flashlight attached to the underside of his assault rifle's barrel. Roseanne was revealed, her clothes stained red, blood flowing from several large dark red, pulsing holes in her body. The Marine still remained shrouded in darkness. He detached the flashlight and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He kept the light on Roseanne and with his free hand reached into his back pocket.

Roseanne grabbed and then raised her pistol quickly and the barrel came into the man's face. But he was faster. He snatched her wrist and point it upwards as the pistol went off. Roseanne groaned in pain. The Marine said.

"Almost got me. You're pretty good," the Marine said.

"Murderer..." Roseanne coughed. Vivian withheld a gasp as Roseanne lurched upwards with a cry, brandishing the knife from her pocket. The Marine, with lightning reflexes, caught her wrist before the tip of the blade sliced his throat. Roseanne grunted with effort to shove the knife further, putting her hand on the bottom of the pommel to push it up into her opponent's neck. She heard heard the Marine let out a labored breath, then the flashlight tumbled. In that instant, Vivian saw his combat knife flash and disappear. The flashlight spun on the floor. There was a sickening sound of metal sinking into flesh. After a few moments, the flashlight stopped, the brilliant white light illuminating Roseanne. The Marine had driven his blade into Roseanne's neck up to the hilt. Roseanne's arm slid down to the floor. Her body spasmed a few times, then finally went still.

Vivian watched the Marine withdraw his knife and grab the flashlight. He turned it off and he stepped away. Another pair of booted feet entered the room.

"How many?" asked the new arrival, who possessed an English accent.

"Five. Five girls with pistols," answered the one who had pulled the trigger, who had a more North American sounding voice. He let out a long breath, "Fuck, the last one nearly cut my throat. I had to kill her with my, my uh..." he waved his combat knife briefly.

"Sure," said the other, "what did ya expect from this lot? How'd you get that close anyways?"

"I was, I was trying to...I was..."

"Easy, easy. Never mind."

Vivian saw the new arrival put an arm around the first's shoulders for a few moments. After they parted, nothing was exchanged between the two for a minute. Vivian heard the one who had done all the killing sheath his knife. The other moved about the room, using a flashlight connected to the left side of his helmet to examine the bodies.

"Christ man, ya going to cut them up now?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You heard me! You gonna slice and dice them up and send a kidney to the local inspector?"

The English one laughed at what he had said.

"If that's a joke I'm not following it, and that's pretty sick," the shooter said.

"Aw come on, don't you study history? Ain't ya heard of Jack the Ripper? Killed five girls in London all the way back in the Nineteenth Century. Never got caught either. Ain't that somethin'?"

"Yeah," said the other one, who didn't sound as amused as his compatriot.

The other laughed a bit more and clapped a hand on his companion's shoulder pauldron, "Well, I think I just met me a new Jack the Ripper."

"I'm not gonna butcher their bodies if you think you'll get a laugh out of it."

His voice was still stiff, but had more bemusement in his tone, or at least that's what it sounded like to Vivian.

The Englishman laughed.

"Not even a kidney, Frost?"

"Come on, let's move out."

Vivian heard their steps head toward the door, but their chatter didn't stop there.

"Time to disappear into a dark alley now, eh?"

"Quiet," was the shooter's response.

More laughter came from his friend, followed by.

"We should get you a top hat."

"Stop it."

"Maybe a gentleman's cape or cloak from those days!"

"Enough, man."

"Ooh, why don't we find some red marker-pens and write a new letter to the inspector?"

"Shut up!"

The laughter and bickering faded, as did the sounds of shooting outside. The attacking force of UNSC troopers moved off, chasing the few survivors of the rebel contingent.

Vivian sat for what seemed like an eternity. She was trembling and tears ran down her cheeks. Her eyes were still wide with fear, and she did not want to leave the pantry closet. She did not want to lay eyes upon her dead friends, she didn't want to step over their mangled bodies, in their pools of blood. No, no, she couldn't do it. She didn't want to. She didn't want to believe they were gone. She begged with God, with all things good, with every cosmic deity and entity she knew. Vivian pleaded and prayed that it was all a horrible nightmare, that she'd wake up and go to school the next day and see their smiling, glowing faces. Yet every time she grew close to convincing herself it was just a dream, she opened her eyes and saw the shadows of her dead friends, smelled their torn flesh and the smoke from the rifle.

Twelve years. Twelve years of friendship, care, support, and loyalty, was destroyed in just as many seconds. They were dead.

Vivian buried her face into her knees, wanting to sob and scream and vomit but couldn't bring herself to do any of it. As the tears continued to silently roll down her cheeks, her mind latched onto what Rosanne had said to her.

Vivian rocked back and forth, repeating the two words in her head.

Never forget. Never forget. Never forget. Never forget.

The image of the man who had killed them flashed into her mind, his young face contorted and his teeth clenched as he gunned them down. Vivian stopped her rocking and looked up, focusing on where he had stood in the room, seeing him there as if he were a ghost.

And Vivian whispered to herself,

"Never forget."

'Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy,' he sang,

Here comes the Roly Poly Man,

He's singing songs of love,

'Roly poly, roly poly, holy poly poly,' he sang...

"Hurdy Gurdy Man"

By Donovan