Prologue

"Chief, what do you remember?"

"About Requiem?"

"No, everything Chief. What can you remember? Starting from the beginning."

Yet another hour of bullshit psychiatry. Lying on the table, staring at the blue painted ceiling wasn't how Chief wanted to spend his time off. There were too many things going on to consider it. The Elite rebels were still out there, and he wanted to find them. More unactivated Forerunner devices to be dismantled or captured. So many things.

And here he was talking about his life story.

What was there to tell?

His life wouldn't be possible without a little luck for sure…

Chapter 1: a slipspace occurrence

The fact of the matter is, the mind doesn't know how to react to new sights. A brand new ideal imposed upon it causes it to retreat to what it knows, working from the ground up. A safety protocol so to say. An ideal spawned from ideas. The ultimate fall-back. Above the dusty battered plains of the planet glowed a small beacon of light, sparkling brighter with each passing second, growing and growing until the beacon of light was a hole in the sky rippling with gases and radiation. And from that hole came another light, a light that produced only the smallest of lights, expanding from its portal, falling to the red planet while the occupants screamed for clarity. The mind falling back on itself. But what can the mind do when there is nothing to relate to? Nothing at all in the same situation.

The answer?

Open its eyes.

On the red sky of Tuchunka's horizon the ship burrowed into the atmosphere, ripping away clouds in its attempt to destroy the small patch of unnoticed land in the vast desert. Crashing, it flew up plumes up dust thirty meters high, spilling and distorting the landscape of the plains. It wasn't a big ship, but it did have a crap pilot.

The hatch on the side popped open, or a better phrase would be 'was kicked open' and out strode a figure. Tall, and clad in magnificent armour, it took off its helmet, majestically rose and-.

Threw up into the ground. It retched and the blonde hair, cropped closely to her head rose up, staring around the barren landscape. Another of the figures patted her lightly on the back as she threw up again, feeling extremely nauseous by the whole ordeal. A slight groan and a wave of her hand indicated that she was feeling better.

"Jesus Christ…" Muttered Kelly, "Is this what you felt like after four years Chief?"

"Sort of, if you count burning an blistering skin as the same as nausea."

"You make it sound horrible, but I can guarantee that you needed some rest," Fred chimed in.

"I don't need rest," said the ever-energetic Linda.

"That's because you go for a quick nap when you're sniping in your perches," Kelly teased.

After the joking died down, they observed their surroundings, gazing over the vast expanse of desert around them. Mile after mile of red desert, but in the distance, a small, abandoned looking town. That didn't exactly heighten their chances. Beginning their long walk, Fred was the only one who lingered, staring at the crash site before shouldering his weapon and walking on. The city was a speck in the distance, but a good jog should yield them results in no time. Wasn't like they needed to hurry.

Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy 2 , Systems Alliance, really wished some help would hurry.

He was hunkered down behind a large slab of fallen building, watching as shots spewed from enemy rifles smashed bits of rock around him to dust, seeing Garrus take pot-shots with his sniper rifle and Grunt yelling obscenities and throwing grenades. An ambush. How did he not see it? It was obvious, narrow position, little cover, good firing lines, it was an amazing position to kill them, and considering they just pissed off the Blue Suns in a very large way, he doubted they had much chance of escaping intact.

He fired off a burst from his M8-Avenger, feeling the reassuring metal in his hands as he tried the comms again and again. They were obviously blocked, but they had been cut off in the ambush, hopefully Miranda or Joker realised something was wrong. There was no way they could hold off, and the mech the Blue Suns had brought with them just continued raining missiles from the nearby building. There was no way out.

Nearby him, Grunt cried out in ain as a round pierced his right shoulder. He grunted, yelling in rage as he picked up a piece of rubble, chucking it at the nearest Blue Suns mercenary. It impacted on the man, causing him to be crushed in his own armour. Grunt yelled, but felt himself slowing down, and took cover quickly behind a nearby piece of building. There was no way out. This was how they died.

And then the mech exploded.

"Did Fred…just rugby tackle a mech?" The Chief asked incredulously.

They managed to quickly realise the Blue Suns were the terrorists while the human and two aliens were official an official army, as the man wore an official insignia, and while it might have been different symbol, the signature for humanity was almost universal. It didn't worry him though; the fact that Fred decided the only way to kill the mech was to chuck it off a building gave him the itch to laugh.

Kelly opened fire, two guards rippled with bullets as a sniper shot rang out, the sound of Linda getting another headshot. The Chief moved up the edge, watching as Fred slowly rose from the wreckage, drawing his rifle and using it to smash the helmet of a troop off nearby. They didn't know the name of the mercenaries, but they had some of the worst camouflaged armour the Chief had ever seen. White and blue might work if you're flying, not in a desert.

Overall, the result was the Blue Suns in a panic, obviously not expecting the sudden change of people attacking them. They had the advantage a minute ago, and now they were being attacked from two different sides. The leaders of their squads called them to hold the line, and the sound of a dropship being swivelled around was heard, the door opening up and firing on the Spartans. Hiding behind cover, Kelly took a peak at the distance between the building they were on and the dropship. She steadied herself.

"Kelly…this is a bad idea."

"Most of our ideas are," she replied.

Breaking into a sprint, the Blue Suns mercenaries could barely keep track of her as she sprinted straight towards the dropship. She darted from side to side as one of the mercenaries screamed at the pilot to move the ship away, but too little too late; she jumped into the troop compartment.

There were four mercenaries in all, and the first swung his rifle. Kelly grabbed the barrel, ripping it out of his hands and kicking him out of the dropship. She swung around, smashing the face of another mercenary with the rifle and then kicked the face of the third. The third stumbled, firing off several rounds which shimmered over Kelly's shields, and the fourth mercenary smacked his rifle off of her head. Slightly stunned, she kicked out at him and heard a satisfying crunch as her heel met his ankle. She then grabbed the third man and chucked him out with both hands, aiming her rifle at the cockpit of the ship. The pilot stumbled out, and was met by a hailstorm of bullets ripping through him and destroying the controls inside the cockpit. The shuttle began to turn and tumble in mid-air, and the figure of Kelly was seen leaping out of the ship as it exploded, impacting off the side of the building into fragments.

The Blue Suns down in the ruins began to panic, firing off shots at the surrounding areas. The Commander, Grunt and Garrus returned fire, each of them on their last thermal clip, pinging shots off of walls and cover to draw mercenaries out into the open. Kinetic barriers were ripped to shreds as the sound of a sniper rifle rung out from Linda, each shot impacting into the centre of mass of each mercenary, every man and woman slowly being whittled down by the unrelentless onslaught of the Spartan assault. Mercenaries scrambled to every side, trying to find a way out in the confusion as dust rose up from the shattered ruins, only to find themselves in CQC with Fred, who had just got out of the mech wreckage. Bones and body parts were broken and shattered as the Spartan turned a desperate fire fight into a panicky CQC match in dust and smoke.

Eventually, after the last mercenary fell to the ground, the dust settled, and the Commander was left facing the four impassive Spartans, who stood a foot above Grunt, their rifles slung over their shoulders. The Commander was still hyped up on adrenaline, so it was understandable he wasn't exactly grateful of the sudden appearance of never before seen super soldiers.

"Who the hell are you?" He addressed the obvious leader.

"Sierra 117, Petty Officer Master Chief, of the UNSC. Our ship crashed landed around a mile back."

The Commander was taken back. UNSC? Master Chief? What was the number designation about? Something wasn't right here, but he also wasn't comfortable sitting in the ruins of a Krogan city. The bodies of mercenaries lay about and for all he knew, not every one of them could be dead. Better to play it safe for now.

"I think you better come with us, er…Master Chief. It sounds like we all have a bit of explaining to do."