PLEASE READ: A/N: Hello all! To all returning readers, I would like to apologize but I finally made up my mind to change the main character's name. He is now Jason Blackwell (last name is unchanged). Should be correct throughout. If you liked it better the other way, let me know and I'll change it back. Sorry if it's a bit confusing, but if you don't mind it then please bear with me!

Chapter 1

2145 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar)/Epsilon Eridani System, Unknown Building, planet Reach

The room had only three pieces of furniture, a large comfortable bed in the corner, a heavy antique table made of solid wood that sat by the door, and the solid wood antique chair to match it. The only man in the entire building was sitting up in the bed, leaning up against the headboard. Lance Corporal Jason Blackwell was getting ready to lay down for the night, having done far more work than any reasonable person could be expected to do in a day; at least that's what he was telling himself. And dealt with a lot of shit that no one in a combat zone should have to deal with. There's no way that I'm coherent enough to do anything else today.

He rose from the bed and crossed to the door, checking to make sure that the deadbolt was securely locked. He then lifted the UNSC issued shotgun off the desk, slinging it across his back before slowly struggling to slide the heavy desk in front of the door. Once he had accomplished his task, he flipped off the dim light; completely ridding the room of the faint glow that he had allowed before.

He chinned a switch in his helmet, turning on the tactical light on the side. He turned to the bed, unslinging his shotgun as he approached it. He rested it against the wall with the assault rifle, the SMG, and his tactical pack, which all sat next to the bed. Once they were propped up against the wall, he removed his helmet and switched it to sentry mode so that it'd wake him if it detected anything unusual.

Removing his helmet also deactivated the experimental energy shield that had previously surrounded him. It was a spinoff of the hugely effective energy shield that the Spartans had. In addition, the experimental ODST armor was powered by generators that were powered by movement. So as long as he was moving, the suit was recharging the built in high capacity battery that powered his shields. Despite the new tech they had stuffed in this suit though, the MJOLNIR armor system could still take a thousand times more punishment than his could. He would rather be back in that armor any day of the week.

Once Jason had set his helmet down, he climbed into bed with the rest of his armor and his boots still on. He proceeded to drift towards sleep; safe in the knowledge that he was still lightly armed, having kept his combat knife and pistol on his chest and thigh respectively.

As he began closing his eyes to rest, Blackwell heard a drawn out creak from somewhere in the building that he was currently trying in vain to fall asleep in. That's the building settling for the night; it's probably not nearly as stable as it was before the invasion. He reasoned with himself. But with my luck lately, there's no way that it's that.

This last thought compelled him to put sleeping off until later, and get back up now. He uncovered himself, throwing the blankets to the side. As Jason stood, he quietly picked his helmet up off of his pack, switching it from sentry to the HUD as he donned it. He decided to forgo turning on the helmet's light for now, instead choosing to use his helmet's night vision capabilities to navigate around the room. He picked up his pack, silently attaching it to the clasps that would turn it into an extension of his armor.

Once the bag was securely fastened, Jason reached down and retrieved his MA5C, choosing the assault rifle over the SMG due to the higher level of firepower and accuracy that it offered. He firmly affixed it to his back and attached its safety strap before he picked up his shotgun and attached its strap as well. Only then did he reach out to find the switch that would turn on the dim light, switching off his night vision as soon as he had located it.

As he flipped the switch, he heard another creak, this time just outside his door. Already, he was glad that he had decided to get back up after the first creak, and not after this one. His HUD was showing six tightly packed red dots on the other side of the door. If he were just getting up now, it would have been too late. He knew that some of the light from the bulb in the ceiling was shining underneath the door, but that didn't matter anymore. They had known that he was there as soon as they had set foot inside the building.

Jackals were ruthless killers. Once they overlapped their shields, they became a nearly unstoppable force to a regular marine, and a fairly challenging group of opponents to a well-armed and rested "special ODST" like himself. Unfortunately, Jason was only decently armed, and severely lacking in sleep. Fortunately for him, he had plenty of experience in dealing with Jackals in the field, and knew that they didn't switch on their shields until they could actually see a threat, because the shields could only run for a short time before having to be switched off to regenerate lost power. And at night, the light given off by the plasma barrier played hell with the night vision of everyone that could see it.

Jason quickly made up his mind and swapped weapons, affixing his shotgun to his back and retrieving his assault rifle, ensuring that there was a round in the chamber and checking to make sure that all the gun's stats matched what was displayed on his visor.

Jason crossed the room so that he was directly across from the door, noting that his mission camera was still rolling, and would be for several more weeks until it ran out of allotted storage space. He raised his rifle, pointing it at the center of the door, roughly at a Jackal's chest height.

"One, Two, Three, Four..."He stopped counting out loud, his helmet recognizing the voice command and bringing up a small stopwatch in the corner of his helmets screen.

The bastards were grouped up and approaching the door slowly; even better, the distinctive shimmer that indicated a forearm mounted plasma shield was turned on wasn't present on his radar. Thank god for new tech, Blackwell thought, knowing that he only had one chance to do this right. Of course, it would have been a lot easier if they had let me keep the Spartan armor after they trained us. But I guess a hefty dose of discretion was called for.

Twenty Eight, Twenty Nine, Thirty... Jason Blackwell squeezed the trigger and fanned his gun across the door, making sure to spray a wide enough area so as to hit all six of the targets evenly. Roughly three seconds later, the last 7.62 x 51 mm Full Metal Jacket Armor Piercing round in the magazine exited the barrel, succeeded in tearing off what was left of the top half of the door, and flattened harmlessly against the nearly undetectable energy shield of one of the six Special Operations Elites standing in the hallway outside Jason's room.

Jason had had a great deal of training when it came to the Sangheili warrior caste system, as had every Spartan 4 recruit, and so upon seeing his true targets, promptly calculated the different possible outcomes of his current situation.

The Elite in the forefront of the group held a plasma rifle, as did the two flanking him on either side. The one directly behind the leader held a plasma carbine and had a beam rifle strapped to his back. The other two held what looked like heavier versions of the plasma pistol, likely designed to be used in nearly any combat situation, and both had Fuel Rod Cannons on their backs. All six carried unlit plasma swords on their hips, ready to be pulled and cut him in half at a second's notice.

I could swap weapons, I might even be able to kill two or three of these bastards if I sidestep and use the shotgun point blank. For the half second that he actually considered this to be a viable plan he was exceptionally confident about it, but that feeling rapidly dissipated, replaced with a feeling of uncertainty. Probably because it's suicide, and that's not really something that's high up on my agenda today.

Jason Blackwell made up his mind. He pivoted on the balls of his feet, turning to the window. At the same time, he dropped his assault rifle, letting the strap do its job and halt his gun's fall before it hit the ground. As he began to sprint for the three foot by four foot window, Jason pulled his pistol out, taking aim at the reinforced window and hoping that the Semi-Armor Piercing Explosive rounds would be able to shatter the inch thick glass before he got there.

It took him a total of two seconds to reach the window, by which time Jason was able to fire seven rounds from his pistol. This had the desired effect of heavily cracking the supposedly shatterproof window. He threw himself forward, relying on his body mass to shatter the glass. He was lucky; the window shattered, sending him plummeting downward just as the six Special Operations Sangheili were entering the room and turning towards him.

As he fell, Jason tried to aim for a burned out car that he hoped would break his fall. He managed to hit it hard, crumpling the hood and rolling off onto the ground, where he stayed for several moments. He heard yelling from above him, but he didn't look up.

The Elites made it to the window. They probably let the sniper go first so he could shoot me if I survived the landing. This thought sufficiently motivated Jason to get up from where he had been bent over on his hands and knees and to start running.

As Jason sprinted towards an alleyway across the street, bright green bolts of plasma began raining down around him, confirming his theory that the sniper would be allowed to get to the window first. Several of them hit, almost completely draining his shields before he was halfway to the alley. He holstered his pistol and reloaded his assault rifle as he ran. There was a brief pause in the shooting. He must be reloading. That could give me the half a second that I need to make it to safety.

He was wrong. Half a step before he reached the safety of the alley, a bright blue beam of plasma impacted Jason Blackwell's left shoulder. It smashed its way through the rest of his shields and punched a neat half inch wide hole through his armor, muscle, bone, muscle, and finally armor again before melting a hole in the concrete to Jason's left, having cauterized everything it touched on the way.

Jason screamed and fell, clutching his shoulder as he tumbled into the safety of the alley, crawling several meters in to ensure that he could no longer be seen. As he lay out of the sniper's line of fire, Jason tried to figure out what to do. I can't stay here… I have to move, get away. But… it's kinda nice here… it's dark and I'm tired. I could just sleep. Jason started drifting off, the wound in his shoulder bothering him less and less with each passing second.

Jason heard six consecutive thumps from back in the direction of the room that he had resided in for a few hours. That was probably the Elites jumping down from the window. I bet they're hunting me, trying to kill all the evil humans on the planet. But Jason Blackwell found that he was caring less and less about them as he drifted off.

His eyes were nearly closed when the six Elites rounded the corner and began moving towards him. He didn't care, they were still a few meters away, and he would be asleep by the time they reached him. They closed to fifteen feet.

Two giant figures emerged from the shadows immediately to his right, moving towards him at a rapid pace. He couldn't make out what they were, but they were clearly massive; nearly as tall as the Elites were, and even more well-built. They captured his attention, causing him to perk up slightly. As the one in the lead stepped over his outstretched legs, he realized what they were. Both Spartans had assault rifles on their backs and pistols on their thighs. The one in the lead carried a sniper rifle, and Jason's muddled and distracted brain told him that it looked familiar. He leveled it at the Six Elites, who roared and angled towards these new, worthier opponents.

The two Spartans were tagged in Jason's HUD. The one with the Sniper was labeled as S-005, and the one behind him was S-137. The latter crouched over Jason, shielding him from a stray plasma bolt that had been directed at S-005. The Spartan squatting above him pulled a stim form one of its armor's compartments, injecting it into Jason's thigh.

Almost immediately, Jason felt himself becoming more alert. His vision was restored just in time to watch all six Elites open fire on S-005. Jason could see the shimmer as the Spartan's shields absorbed and dissipated as much of the plasma as they could, but they were draining quickly. While the Elites continued to fire, the Spartan's sniper rifle cracked four times in rapid succession, the last round exiting the barrel before the shell casing from the first had made it to the ground.

Four shots had been fired, and all four found their mark. Four of the six Elites now lay on the ground, all four missing enormous chunks of their heads. But now the Spartan would have to reload, and it was obvious even to Jason that he wasn't going to make it. The Elites had completely drained S-005's shields, and the only thing that had saved him was that the two remaining elites had had to let their weapons cool down.

The Spartan crouching over Jason was spraying bio-foam in his wound, but he wasn't paying attention. He watched as the lead Spartan dropped his rifle and pulled an unnecessarily large looking knife from its sheath. He lunged with amazing speed, jumping clean over both of the Elite's heads and twisting so that he landed on his feet behind them, facing Jason.

The Spartan grasped the neck of the closest Elite and pulled him backwards, forcing his knife deep into his back, right where the shield didn't cover. The blade protruded out of the Elite's chest, dripping with the alien's vividly purple blood. The Special Operations Trooper died instantly, the Spartan's knife having pierced several vital internal organs.

By then, the last Elite left standing had turned towards where his comrade was skewered on the Spartan's knife and raised his weapon.

S-005 wasn't going to make it. The Elite's weapon was raised and the Spartan's only unoccupied weapon was on his back. But to reach it, he would have to drop the Elite that he was using as a shield. He hesitated.

The Elite started firing, pouring as many plasma rounds down range as he could. S-005 ducked behind the Elite's corpse, but the plasma was beginning to burn its way through.

Jason suddenly realized that there was a rifle, his own, resting in his lap; fully loaded and angled towards S-005 and the Elite. He steadied the weapon, making sure that the targeting reticule on his HUD was lined up with the middle of the Elite's back.

Jason squeezed the trigger, taking pride in his ability to hold the gun steady, despite the awkward angle, and ensure that nearly all of the armor piercing rounds found their way into the Elite's back, killing him before his plasma burned all the way through his dead ally. The Spartan withdrew his knife from the Elite's back and wiped it off on its armor before approaching Jason and S-137. Both registered as Petty Officer 2nd Class on his HUD, meaning that in a combat situation such as this one, they far outranked him.

Jason attempted to raise his right hand in a salute, but couldn't raise it high enough.

"On your feet soldier, we'll get you somewhere you can rest." S-005 said. "We're going to need all the help we can get."

Jason struggled to his feet with the help of the two juggernauts, both gently pulling him to his feet before helping him work his way back towards the entrance to the alley.

They ruled out his old building almost immediately, since it had already been visited once, and likely would be again when the team didn't report in.

"They're working their way from North to South." S-005 said. "We're better off finding a building towards the North that they've already swept."

They found one such building within two miles and they deemed it a good place to rest up. S-137 quickly swept the small building for Covenant troops and, upon finding it empty, found a room with a bed. That's where they took Jason, laying him down on the bed to rest after they reapplied bio-foam and a bandage.

Jason didn't even try to refuse; he just removed the necessary armor components to avoid aggravating his wound, and slept.

He awoke roughly twelve hours later with a stabbing pain in his left shoulder. He was alone; the two Spartans that he vaguely remembered from the night before were nowhere to be seen.

As he stood up and looked around, Jason heard the sound of a bolt being cycled from down the hall. Relieved that he wasn't alone, Jason donned his helmet and as much of his armor as he could, and retrieved his weapons from where they were neatly laid out on the floor before setting off down the hallway on search of whomever made the noise he had heard.

He was still painfully aware of the hole in his shoulder, but tried not to let it slow him down too much as he swept through the small apartment. It didn't take Jason long to find the two Spartans. They had set up shop in the living room, laying out all of their various armaments in neat rows on the floor. As Jason approached his two companions, he began noticing things that he had missed the night before.

Jason noticed that his HUD had tagged both of them, enabling him to discriminate between the two. The one that had done all of the fighting the night before, S-005, was a male. His armor was looking a little worse for wear, being covered in scratches, dents, and plasma burns. He was busy fiddling with a component inside his helmet, and didn't look up when Jason entered the room.

The other Spartan was a female, and while her armor appeared to be far less damaged, it was not unscathed and she appeared to be in the process of making some minor adjustments. She was extremely tall. But then again, he thought, they all are, it gives them the upper hand in almost any fight. In addition to being tall, the female Spartan was also ridiculously attractive. Her short, jet black hair was in sharp contrast to her almost unnaturally pale skin, but also drew his attention to her piercing blue eyes. Blue eyes that he now realized were staring at him.

Jason quickly looked away, fearing that she could somehow see through his black reflective visor and would know what he was thinking. So instead of looking over at her again, he studied the other Spartan. He had short brown hair, brown eyes, very pale skin, and was also unusually tall. It was only now that Jason noticed that both Spartan's rank was displayed along with their ID when he looked at them, and then proceeded to remember that they both thoroughly outranked him.

He snapped to attention and saluted.

"At ease soldier," S-005 said. Jason relaxed slightly, dropping his hand to his side and approaching the two Spartans.

"Orders sir?" Jason asked, hoping that it wasn't anything too strenuous because of the state his shoulder was in.

"For now, check your armor and see what kind of shape it's in, then clean your weapons. How's your shoulder feeling?"

Jason almost told them that it was fine so they wouldn't be concerned, but that could prove dangerous if they thought he was fine in a fight. He could get them all killed if he lied.

"It hurts sir. I'm not at full fighting capacity."

"Good, I would have been worried if you said you were fine. That would make you a liar and a liability. Get to work on your weapons and armor, work as fast as you can, but be thorough."

"Yes sir." Jason said, unloading his weapons and laying them out on the floor.

Once Jason's weapons were laid out, he disassembled his armor and began making minor repairs, mostly consisting of tightening straps and locking plates in place. They sat there in silence as they cleaned their weapons and armor. At one point, Jason rebandaged his shoulder. The verbal silence was deafening, and after about twenty minutes, Jason felt like he had to speak up.

"We're going to be stuck together in this city for a while," he said. "We might as well learn each other's names."

"That's a fair point," S-137 said, she looked as S-005 and he nodded. She turned back to Jason. "I'm Carris."

"James," said the other Spartan.

"I'm Jason," he said. "So what's our plan?"

"The city is lost, any civilians that were here at some point have either been evacuated, or killed by the Covenant," Carris said. "But there's something here, something the Covenant wants."

"How do you know?" Jason asked.

"Because we're still alive," James said slightly bitterly. "If there wasn't something here then the Covenant would have glassed the days ago."

""Well what is it?" Jason asked.

"No idea," Carris said, "But that's our new mission. We have to stop the Covenant from claiming it as theirs. Comms are blocked, so we're on our own for now."

"How long do we have?"

"From the Covenant chatter that I've heard, they've already found it, and they're convinced that it could win them the war. It's going to take them some time to get to it, even though they've found it already, but we only have a week at most before they're able to take it and go." James said.

"Then we had better get to work," Jason said, grimly returning to the task of cleaning his shotgun. As he worked, he thought back to what had happened to lead him to this twisted turn of events.