AUGUST 30, 2552

20:00 HOURS

Noble Six looked up at the dark, rust-colored sky. His thoughts turned to NOBLE team-his team. He was never the most emotional SPARTAN III-his time of being a personal grim-reaper for ONI had seen to that. However, as he stared out toward the spot in the sky where the Pillar of Autumn escaped, he couldn't help but feel a sense of…sadness? When the Autumn had escaped the from Aszod, so did his only real chance of escaping Reach. Once again, he was alone, truly alone. Six realized he should have been accepting of this. He always worked best on his own, his time as an assassin being a prime example of this. Entire Insurrectionist cells were felled by his hand alone.

"Glad to have your skill set, but we're a team. That lone wolf stuff stays behind, clear?" Carter said.

"Got it, sir."

After that brief conversation with his new commanding officer, he accompanied the team to Visegra d relay, where they later encountered and engaged the covenant. After they had completed the op and had Carter speak with Colonel Holland, Six stuck with NOBLE all the way through the fall of Reach.

As he became a part of NOBLE, he also had to watch as they fell. The first to die was Jorge-052, the team's resident SPARTAN II. He sacrificed himself to destroy the Covenant supercarrier, The Long Night of Solace. To ensure Six's survival, Jorge threw him out of the hangar, where gravity would do its work to bring him back down to the planet.

"Tell 'em to make it count."

Those were Jorge's last words to him. As he fell toward Reach and saw the Long Night get destroyed, he felt guilty- as if he was supposed to be the one on the ship instead of Jorge. The fact that large SPARTAN chose his course of action offered no comfort to Six.

It wasn't even a minute after, when a damned armada of Covenant ships appeared over Reach. Six felt a pit form in his stomach. There were easily over a hundred of them, all making a bee-line for the planet. It wasn't long before the pit in his stomach turned to fury. He would avenge his fallen teammate-no, brother. He glared at the approaching fleet even during Auntie Dot's numerous reports of slipspace ruptures and the locking of his armor, all the while gripping Jorge's dog tags tighter.

The next to fall was Kat, otherwise known as Catherine B-320. It was during the raid of New Alexandria, where the glassing of the city required NOBLE team to retreat to the fallout shelter under Olympic Tower. The glassing, being in such close proximity, overloaded their shields almost immediately. AS he and Kat reached the end of their elevator ride, they ran across the hallway to regroup with the rest of the team.

They failed to spot the Phantom.

One shot from a Needle Rifle through her head rendered her dead before she hit the ground. Some of the blood spray reached Six's visor. As he took the Magnum from the body of Kat, he started to fire at the Jackal sniper, shortly being joined by the steady staccato of the rest of NOBLE's assault rifles. Six kept firing until the pistol clicked. A distinct avian body falling out of the dropship didn't make him feel any better. He discarded the Magnum and dragged the body of his teammate to the bunker.

"Let's go, come on!" shouted Jun.

"Close the doors," yelled a civilian. "Faster!"

Hours, maybe even a day later, they had emerged from the bunker, and laid their eyes upon the ruins of Reach's crown jewel. What was left of the city was burning, the fires on the skyscrapers lighting up the night sky. Jun lit a flare, Carter behind him as he carried the corpse of Kat. Six and Emile brought up the rear, and the remains of NOBLE team awaited transport.

Jun was the next to leave. He left NOBLE under orders from Carter to escort Doctor Halsey to CASTLE base. Six didn't catch much of the conversation; He was thinking about the 'Package' the Doctor entrusted him with. This single A.I. could turn the tide of the war? Of course he was skeptical, but he heard the desperation in her voice when the team of four descended underneath Sword Base.

"Bury any of it, and you bury mankind's best chance for survival! Commander, you've been wondering what your SPARTANS died for? They died for this. Please, buy me all the time you can."

The sheer passion in her voice as she said that made Six believe her. If Halsey, the creator of the SPARTAN IIs believed whatever she had could win humanity the war, who was he to argue?

So he stood on the platform, looking at the container one last time, before placing it on the magnetic holster on his back. He caught the final part of the short conversation between Carter and Jun.

"I'll do what's necessary, sir." Said Jun. "Good luck."

"You too, rifleman."

Carter moved into the cockpit to pilot the Pelican. Emile sat on the ramp, his M45 Tactical Shotgun at the ready. Six entered, taking a brief glance behind him toward Jun's Pelican, before the three members of NOBLE team headed off to the shipbreaking yard at Aszod.

Carter was the next to fall. He sacrificed himself by crashing into a Scarab taking aim at Six and Emile.

"Motherfu-we can get past it, sir!" Emile said into the comms.

"No you can't. Not without help." Carter sounded resigned as he said that.

"Commander, you don't have the firepower!"

"I've got the mass." As he fired a couple bursts at the Scarab to distract it, Six and Emile had realized what his plan was.

"Solid copy. Hit 'em hard, boss."

"You're on your own, NOBLE. Carter out." Then, the pelican impacted against the Scarab in an explosion of orange and purple fire. The Scarab fell off the cliff it was stationed on, the screeching and groaning of the Covenant alloy loud as the gigantic machine impacted the ground.

"Curve is to the east. Let's go." said Emile.

Six nodded.

Emile was the last to die. Noble five was killed as he was manning the Onager.

"Good to see you Spartan," said Jacob Keyes. "Halsey assured me I could count on you."

"Not just me, sir." Six said somberly.

Keyes placed a hand on Six's armor. "They'll be remembered." He said with equal emotion.

A Phantom dropship came from below and destroyed one of the Pelicans, killing all inside it. It flew to the Onager, to where Emile was manning the ground-based MAC cannon. Six crouched and took aim, but had to take cover to avoid being hit by the white-hot plasma coming from one of the Phantom's Plasma Turrets. A zealot dropped down from the phantom, ready to kill Emile-only to be met with 8 gauge to the face. Emile stepped out of the Onager and finished the Zealot with another shot from his Shotgun.

"Who's next?" he challenged, before he was impaled by an energy sword from the back. A second Zealot had appeared. As the Elite removed its Energy Sword from Emile, the SPARTAN unsheathed his own Kukri, and with a cry of, "I'm ready! How 'bout you?" he plunged it into the neck of the zealot, destroying its shields in a brilliant flash of blue, and ended its life, before succumbing to his own wounds.

As Six looked one, he heard a Marine from Keyes' Pelican yell out to him, "Lieutenant! Get aboard! We gotta get the hell outta here!"

Six looked at Captain Keyes. "Negative. I've got the gun. Good luck, sir."

Keyes' eyes met the visor of NOBLE team's final member. "Good luck to you, SPARTAN."

Six turned around, and made his way to the MAC cannon.

He stood on the platform as he looked at a pair of Banshees that flew by. He looked at Jorge's dog tags in his hands before taking them in a fist and placing them in a pouch in his chest armor. It was his turn to die.

I'll make it count, Jorge.

"Noble Six, there are Covenant forces approaching your position," said Dot's accented voice.

Six sighed in resignation. This was it. His last stand against the Covenant war machine. He saw the approaching phantoms dropping off a variety of Covies, from Brutes and Elites, to Grunts and Buggers.

"Let's go, Dot."

"Of course, Noble Six."

Six drew his DMR and walked toward the horde of approaching aliens.

The sixth member of NOBLE team lost track of how long he was fighting. Hours? Maybe even days. All he knew was that he never slept, and it was beginning to weigh on him. His HUD has been malfunctioning since… he wasn't sure how long ago, but the clock and ammo counter were down. His energy shield was on its last legs as well. Dot played no small part in his survival, pointing out weapons and supplies whenever he ran out.

In the ruins of an old, destroyed building, Six sits against a wall, eating his last protein bar. He was quite young as all SPARTAN IIIs were, only around his twenties with dark brown hair and sea blue eyes. He had no stubble as per regulations. Plenty of scars, though-from both human and covenant weapons. He finished off the protein bar and put on his MK V helmet. He checked his shield bar. Full. Good.

"Dot."

"Noble Six?"

"How long until the Covenant get here?"

"Noble Six, engaging in combat in your current state is ill-advised. I suggest-"

"What, Dot? Lie down and let them kill me? No, when it's my time, I'm sure as hell not going quietly."

He drew his DMR. His head perked up as he heard the distinct sound of a Wraith's mortar firing. Seconds later, the blob of plasma impacted dangerously close to Six's place of residence. He polarized his visor and stepped out of the ruined building, firing at the nearest non-humans he could see.

His first victim was an unfortunate grunt. He blew its tiny head off with a shot from his rifle. Six smiled grimly as he saw the mist of luminescent blue blood. Six then set his sights on a group of three Grunts led by an Elite Minor. He fired three shots off, killing two Grunts with head shots and another one by destroying its methane tank. The Elite started firing at Six with its Plasma Rifle, doing some damage to his shields. Six drew his combat knife and sprinted towards the Minor, planning to get up close and personal. The Minor tried to kick the SPARTAN, but Six read this, sidestepped to the right, and jammed the knife into its neck. He pulled it out, letting the alien choke on its own blood.

He made short work of another group of Grunts before spotting a Wraith moving onto his positon. He picked up a Plasma Pistol off the ground and fired off an overcharged round at the Wraith. He drew his Magnum and shot the short methane-breather manning the turret in the face. He went around the purple tank and shoved a frag into the back of it. It wasn't long before the tank exploded alongside whatever hinge-head was piloting it.

He kept on killing and killing. His visor was cracked, so he took off his helmet and dropped it on the ground. He paid no mind to his wounds and continued to fight, like he was bred to do. He saw an Assault Rifle on the ground, picked it up and started firing at a nearby Elite Ultra, tearing off flesh and spraying purple blood where bullets hit. Six let out an animalistic cry as he head butted a General behind him, knocking it to the ground.

He drew his Magnum shot its head, staining its pristine golden armor purple with its blood.

"Good riddance, hinge-head," he muttered.

He had just holstered the pistol when hot, searing pain blossomed from his shoulder, fusing some of his armor to his skin. His teeth gritted in pain, but he but bursts of 7.62X51 rounds into the chest of the offending elite, knocking out its shields. His right shoulder was hit by another burst of plasma, knocking him back. He reached for his Magnum and dual wielded it with the Rifle. He fired into the Officer and the Minor that had its shields knocked out, killing them both.

He was then shoved to the ground by an Ultra, but he kicked it away, staggering it. A Zealot came up from his right and tried to stab him with an energy dagger, and was rewarded with a sharp elbow to the face, knocking out the shields in a bright blue Ultra he knocked back returned and jumped onto him, attempting to end him with an energy dagger to the neck, Six dodged, and the Elite got punched in the side of the head. The Zealot however, shook out of its daze, activated the dagger, and plunged it deep into the SPARTAN's chest.

At that point, all Six felt was pain. He couldn't move his arms and his mouth was filling with blood. Just breathing hurt. The Zealot that dealt the killing blow watched in glee as the SPARTAN lay dying. It moved its head closer to the face of the heretic to look into the human's eyes. Noble Six stared back hatefully, and as a final act of defiance, spit blood into the split-lip's face. It grimaced, reptilian eyes filling with hatred, and raised its energy dagger, all too happy to deal the final blow to the human.

No such luck.

There was a bright flash of white, and the SPARTAN was gone.

The Elites looked at the spot where the Demon was not one minute ago. They were confused. Did the humans have some sort of teleportation technology they were unaware of? Whatever the case was, the Zealot could only yell to the sky in righteous fury for letting the Demon slip through its four fingered grasp.

Six was afloat in a sea of black.

He sighed, more in relief than stress. He was no longer in any pain-which probably wasn't too good. Pain meant you were still alive. After checking himself over for any lingering injuries, he took a moment to look around. What he saw was black, black and more black. He drifted for a while. It was hard to keep track without a HUD or a sun.

At some point, a voice echoed in his head.

"Greetings, Reclaimer. It seems you are still in one piece."

"Who are you?" Six demanded. "Get out of my head!"

"Who I am is of no importance, Reclaimer. Just know that I aim to aid you."

"Why the hell should I listen to you?"

"Because I can give you life again."

"Bullshit. That's impossible," Six spat.

"To your primitive species, maybe. But not to us. I transported you here as you were about to die to save you. Where you are now, is the in-between. You are neither alive, nor dead. "

"It doesn't seem I have much choice but to listen to your offer. And why the hell do you keep calling me 'Reclaimer'?"

"Excellent! Though I do need a small favor."

"Answer my question and I'll think about it," Six snapped.

"About why I call you Reclaimer?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's because we had chosen your kind to take up the Mantle to succeed us."

"Chosen? What do you mean? And what about this Mantle shit? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your questions will have their answers when the time is right, Reclaimer."

"I don't like this at all."

"You don't have to, Reclaimer."

Six only sighed. "What's your task?"

"Where I am sending you will have one of our old outposts. I require you to reactivate the constructs there. The reactivation of the outpost will relay a beacon across the star system. It has been millennia since it has been activated. I would like to see if my… people are alive or not. You may do what you wish with the constructs and use whatever materials you find. This one task is all I ask of you."

Six sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. "Okay. I'll do it." He paused. "What are you, anyway?"

"I feel it is only fair that I tell you, Reclaimer. I am 089 Unhallowed Lesson, the monitor of the installation I am asking you to reactivate. If you don't already know, Reclaimer, I am a Forerunner construct."

"Alright, Lesson. Let's go."

"Splendid! When you arrive, you will find that your armor is fully intact, with some noticeable upgrades I took the liberty of installing. The Ancilla I found within your systems was painfully primitive. I took the liberty of improving it as well."

"Ancilla? You mean Dot? What did you do to her?"

"Do not worry, Reclaimer. I merely extended its life indefinitely and made it more self-aware. You will find that this 'Dot' as you called it, will know the exact coordinated of the installation, making your task that much easier."

Six nodded. "Good, that's good .Weapons? Can't forget those."

"Of course, Reclaimer. Your new weapons will be with you. Your Ancilla will know what to do. Is that all? You really should be on your way."

"No. That's all I had. I'm ready when you are."

"Excellent. This will only take a moment."

Six was then engulfed in a bright white light, and then all was black.