1: Hammer and Tongs

Chapter Summary: The wars for land and resources following Second Impact led the UN to charge the Nerv organization to create supersoldiers to quell future conflicts. Fourteen years later and the wars are long past. John-117 is the only surviving Spartan.

"I saw my brothers slain. Few understand the pain, few can hear my cry." — Adolf Hitler

From the sea came life. Isn't it fitting that the sea take life back?

Second Impact: a force equivalent to 18 billion megatons of TNT being detonated at once. It vaporized the Antarctic ice caps, flooding the world oceans with untold gallons blue-green water and molten amber LCL blood. We can only guess at how many people died and were not buried, save for their cities crashing around their cooling corpses.

From the sea came monstrous waves hundreds of meters tall that swallowed up the land and drowned the Southern Hemisphere with tainted water. Across the globe sea levels rose around seventy meters. Every single coastal city in the world was given the Atlantis treatment and would never again recover. The year was 2000 and it seemed that the doomsday predictions would be fulfilled by the ink-blue tides of the swelling ocean instead of computer malfunctions. Two billion people died that fateful day.

Worse than the destruction wrought by nature against man was the destruction wrought by man against man. After the waves came more waves; not of water but of war. Again and again the surviving countries scrambled amongst flooded plains strewn with the soaked ash and bones of the old world. The surviving countries threw their soldiers and bombs and chemicals at each other, seeking gain and glory through exploitation of the weakness caused by the Second Impact. Men and women were torn asunder by violent explosions launched from countries hundreds of miles away by shadowy military agents who thought nothing or little of the human cost of their actions. Children choked on clouds of sickly pale poison gases and died in the streets by the millions. Even the rats and insects of the world would not touch these corpses; for they were tainted by the evil of man. Soldiers fought to kill and killed only to die soon after.

Despite these tragedies man lived and loved and laughed madly on through the chaos of the times. Is this not what man was meant for? To live on through hardship and survive? The survivors of the winds and waves and rains and wars were scarred for sure; but did they not live? They lived and they lived and they lived despite flood, against the bombs and bullets, lived through the fogs of nerve gases and vesicant agents.

Man's arduous struggle finally came to an end on the Day of Love through the Valentine's day Treaty of 2001. A year of non-stop combat and disaster and adjusting to the brave new world wrought by man's hubris and greed and aspirations for Godhood. In the light of the tragedies of existence that occurred during that fatal one year stretch between Second Impact and the Day of Love; man finally found it to be in his best interest to end war. The real terror was how they chose to put an end to war.

Seventy-five children from across the world were kidnapped from their parents. In their place clones of the Chosen were planted so as not to startle their guardians. Within the year many flash-clones died of medical complications as a result of cloning a human being and artificially aging them three years, putting an end to their deceptive existence. There were seventy-five unnecessary funerals in the year 2001.

These children, future Spartans, would be taken and trained and surgically modified until they were warcasters. Magicians on the battlefield capable of making the impossible happen on a regular basis. More precise and deadly than any other soldier or weapon available to man; they would be the ultimate deterrent to war…

The seventy-five Chosen were taken to Mombasa-2. Here the children grew into something more than human...

"There is an ancient saying, 'the beginning of wisdom is innocence.' So where do we begin to create the ultimate warrior?" Dr. Catherine Halsey paused for a moment in her address to the UN representatives, "we must begin with innocence."

Silence reigned supreme in the UN assembly room. The silver film of nothingness birthed by Halsey's dramatic methodology proposed and the contemplation of the UN representatives was broken when China stood and began to clap in support of the good doctor's solution to war. Slowly the other representatives voiced their assent. Halsey turned to see the men and women representing the people of the world and smiled.

And thus began the Spartan II program.

In an underground room of the FLEETCOM Military complex, 75 children sat in a cold grey amphitheatre. They had been selected for their genetic superiority, strength, and drive to succeed. They were the best; Halsey would make them better.

"... This is the nature of war! The truest form of divination, man puts his life on the line and stands to win the world. The ultimate gamble; and when it pays off, man can't help but bet again and again and again..."

The kids tried to listen to the words of Franklin Mendez, who would be the man in charge of their training as Spartans. The children wore thin athletic clothing that provided no relief from the stinging cold stone floor they sat on. The hum of air conditioning was accompanied by a frosty wind that caused exhalations to rise up in whorls of hot dreams and cold smoke.

"... But for one man to bet and gain everything, another must bet and lose everything. This is the tragedy of war…"

Chief Petty Officer Mendez paused his speech and made eye contact with his mostly reluctant charges. Pulled from their homes against their will, they did not yet understand the grandness and nobility of the cause they were being dedicated and sacrificed to.

"You children are meant to be the end of this fruitless gambling! Although you're too young to understand; it will become apparent to you that the sacrifices you make will what keeps the peace in the world. From this day on, you are Spartans."

Mendez looked around once more at the child-soldiers gathered. The majority of them were shivering or on the verge of tears, unsurprising since the recruits were three year olds newly taken from their parents. There was just one exception… A boy, unlike the rest of his peers, was sitting ramrod straight. Nothing out of the ordinary; only a smattering of freckles and a small gap between his front two teeth. Despite the coldness of the room, one boy did not shiver or chatter his teeth.

"Boy, what's your name?"

The child in question stood up to address his superior officer. In his eyes were unwavering courage and already Mendez could tell that this boy was ready to fight, that this boy would give his everything for the human race.

"I'm John."

The year was 2001 and a legend was in the making.

Eleven years later Dr. Halsey, CPO Mendez, and John were standing in the rain. Thirty four graves lay in front of the trio.

"It's okay to cry John," Halsey said softly, "everyone hurts sometimes. Even Spartans can feel."

God knows how long she had cried for the dead children in front of her.

Mendez stood silently looking over the graves, neither crying nor saying anything. The past eleven years had crept up on him so quickly… Every soldier either buried in the ground or screaming as the pain of the failed bone and eye and muscle augmentations burned their marks into the young bodies had become part of his family. He had genuinely grown to care about these Spartans— somewhat foolishly, grown attached to them.

Despite the dead and maimed, Mendez and Halsey, father and mother figures to these Spartans still had John. John who was always leading the group through their survival exercises and trainings. He who was brave and swift and strong and above all: willing to sacrifice for the good of his teammates, his family. John was all that was left.

The teenager stepped forward out from between Halsey and Mendez out of the umbrellas that shielded them from the rain. His head was bowed and the rain ran through his short brown hair into his eyes and down his face. Maybe he cried, maybe he didn't.

Why was it he that was able to survive these surgeries when his friends— no, brothers and sisters, hadn't been able to? He recalled one of the promises that he had made to his fellow warriors as they did a survival test in the middle of the Amazon wilderness:

"No one's getting left behind. We're going to find a way to get us all out."

He had promised never to leave a man behind. But now he was standing there alone; the sole survivor of the ultimately failed Spartan program.

"Sierra-117, meet your new employer Mr. Gendo Ikari," Halsey gestured to the man sitting at a desk on the far side of the office they were in, "Mr. Ikari, this is John." The doctor smiled warmly at her charge and jerked her head to one side to communicate to the soldier that he was to greet the commander. John wasn't too good at understanding social conventions.

The year was 2014 and the last Spartan was sixteen years old. He stood six and a half feet tall in military green MJOLNIR Mark IV Assault armor. The hiss of pneumatics went off as the Spartan took his helmet off. Nestling the object under his arm, the supersoldier strode towards Gendo with carefully measured strides.

"It's a pleasure, sir." The voice was calm and controlled, a hint of youth tempered by maturity and discipline and gravel. The tall boy offered a handshake to his new superior. Gendo unraveled his tangled fingers stood from his seat and shook John's hand. The scene was strange, John was over 20 years younger than the Nerv commander, but stood over half a foot taller.

After the commander had taken his seat again, he stared at his new employee for a good while. An icy stare that most of Nerv's employees swore could freeze Hell over. John bore that stare easily and waited for the interview to continue.

"What purpose will you serve here, Sierra-117?" The commander's fingers drummed together in a carefully practiced rhythm. Gendo was naturally curious of the Spartan's abilities; he had known of the existence of the Spartan II program for quite some time and the stories that had circulated about John-117.

"Anything and everything asked of me, I will fulfill to the best of my abilities, sir." John's response was respectful and business like— something Gendo appreciated greatly. Most of his employees were too intimidated (or infatuated in Ritsuko's case) by him to give him straight, concise answers.

"The threats you will be facing here at Nerv are quite unlike the missions you had in the past. It will not be people you are fighting here; but monsters. Are you ready for that?"

The corners of John's mouth stayed passive and stoic as he nodded his head in a decided manner. "Sir, Spartans were made to make miracles happen. Although my brothers and sisters are unable to fight either due to injury or death, I am here and willing to work."

Just the answer Gendo was looking for. He let out a rare smile and pressed a button on his desk and called for Ritsuko to come in. Several minutes later the bleached blonde doctor entered the room and exchanged greetings with Halsey and John.

"Dr. Halsey, Ritsuko is the Chief of Project E. here at Nerv. She'll also be put in charge of John's health and unique condition. It would be prudent for her to have the information on the Spartans. You are all dismissed— John, it will be a pleasure working with you." And just like that the meeting was over. The young Spartan saluted the commander and placed his helmet over his head once again. The sole survivor of the Spartan II program was now under Nerv employ.

John finished saying his goodbyes as Dr. Halsey was escorted out of the Nerv building. He had promised to stay in touch with her, but he felt empty inside knowing that the woman who had helped raise him and his fellow Spartans was no longer going to be nearby. Ignoring the hollowness he felt inside he followed his new supervisor, Ritsuko Akagi down to a testing room.

"Okay John, I'd just like to start today with some basic strength tests, in and out of armor, so that I can get a measure of your health."

A quiet, "yes ma'am," was all John said in response. He had done this sort of thing countless times in the past.

Ritsuko did not know what to make of these test results. The Spartan put under her command was simply a monster when it came to any sort of physical activity. He had been able to run huge distances without any signs of fatigue, absolutely demolishing the world record for the marathon. He had clocked an average of thirty miles per hour without his suit while running that twenty-six mile distance. He wasn't even winded.

When it came to physical strength Ritsuko's already high expectations were blown out of the water. 'How the Hell can a human being do this?' she asked herself rhetorically. John was around two hundred-thirty pounds of lean muscle without his armor and weighed half a ton when he was in his signature green MJOLNIR suit. Without the suit on he was able to lift around three times his bodyweight, already a feat that once again smashed world records. In the suit however his strength was magnified so greatly that Ritsuko thought the sensors to have malfunctioned. With no great effort at all John had managed to lift around three tons in a straight up deadlift. It was as if a god lived in John's body.

His reaction times were nothing to laugh at either. The tests that Ritsuko performed gave a reading that his visual reaction time was 20 milliseconds, over ten times faster than an average human being. Ritsuko suspected that he was able to dodge bullets shot at point-blank range. 'Just what is he?' the blonde doctor made a note to go over the files that Dr. Halsey had transferred over. 'If he could pilot an Eva, the coming Angel war would be over…'

Shaking her head clear of hopeful musings, she called down Misato to meet the newest employee of Nerv.

"Alright John, I have some people I would like you to meet. Wash up and meet me when you're done."

The Spartan nodded and stepped over to the platform where technicians swarmed him to take his armor off.

"So who's so important that you had to call me down here on my day off?" Misato was pretty annoyed, she'd much rather have stayed home then come down to the depths of Central Dogma.

Ritsuko sighed at her lazy friend, "I wouldn't have called you down here for some random nobody starting work here. Have you ever heard of the Spartan II program?"

Misato's surprise was evident as she sputtered over the coffee in her mouth, "Who hasn't heard of it? The Navy's greatest hero, Sierra-117 or whatever; everyone's heard of him. You can't even turn on the TV without hearing about some war that guy ended or whatever… Are you saying he's working for Nerv now?"

The blonde was about to say something when the hiss of the automatic door diverted the two women's attention to the new arrival.

"You wanted to see me again Dr. Akagi?" the soldier asked.

And so Misato met the Spartan.

AN: Here's some notes to clear up Master Chief's upbringing and childhood as a Spartan. In 2001 after the Valentine's Day Treaty, the UN decided to launch the Spartan II program so that future conflicts could be ended quickly and efficiently. That year John is abducted from his parents at the age of three and send to FLEETCOM with seventy-five other children. From the ages three (2001) to eleven (2009) they all train together, similarly to how he was trained in Halo. At age eleven, before puberty really begins, the Spartans are given their augmentation surgeries. Over half of the children die and the remaining Spartans save John are crippled and unfit for duty. John spends five years operating with the world's finest special operations teams taking down organized crime, rebellions and insurrections, and generally saving the world. Everyone learns about the Spartans, their sacrifices and he becomes a hero. In 2014 he becomes an agent for Nerv and the rest is yet to come.