000 Bonus Content

(October 27/10 – I want to throw out, I've had this chapter of 'special features' tucked away for some time. Finishing the story was a personal goal for me, so it's great if you can share the experience too...all the more power to ya. I only return because after seeing that 000 IS being read—and favourited [THANKS GUYS—nobody is leaving reviews! I, for one, love to hear feedback and other stuff. It's what motivates us writers. So be a pal, write up a nice little note and keep reading!)

In the case of Where Duty Ends, I followed up with an alternate opening and ending, a little to show what kind of thought process went into writing it. Where the story has gone right from the moment I sit down and start typing, to the end when I finally hit 'upload'. Spartan 000 was rewritten almost from the ground up, taking a major plot turn about 2/3 of the way through. Chapters 1 through 9 remained with the same sort of plotline during the rewrite, only because I just wanted to go back and clean up some ugly formatting and descriptions. But as it went on and I finally got through the ridiculousness, it was impossible for me to stick with it. By that point in the story's life, I was just trying to set up action-set-piece after action-set-piece...logistics be damned. Not that the rewrite is a slow-moving, dramatic innovation, mind you.

I want to say going through the earlier chapters was fine, easy enough. But after I reached 10, there was too much bullshit for me to sit through and enjoy. I just had to fix up the events before the end. Chapter 14 is where I would have ended it logically, leaving it a little more open to a sequel, ending it on low "cloak and daggers" note. As a quick aside, that's the tone I want a hypothetical reboot to have. The final two chapters round off where the original story left off, yet it was connected for a just a little continuity. Also because, it's named Spartan 000, I had to do something with that at least.

Anyway, I said I would repost parts of the original story, but unfortunately some chapters are lost, or are on a computer virus'd up so badly I don't want to turn it on to retrieve them. But the ones I do post, however, I thought it would be fun to do an Author's Commentary for a good portion of the original story so you can read and think "this is bullshit!" right along with me, if you haven't been doing that already.

This bonus chapter contains the sections:

Spartan 000 – What's In A Name?
The Original Spartan 000 with Author's Commentary
Chapter 16 – Tying It Up, Tying It Together

Spartan 000 – What's In A Name?

The idea of 000 came while reading the Fall of Reach. The thing that fascinated me the most was the whole notion of turning people into super soldiers against their will. Involuntary human experimentation, while terrible and also mostly illegal, has always been a fascinating subject to me. Watching District 9 (no spoilers), it was horrifying and uncomfortable to watch that one scene, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away. Scariest part of the whole movie for me.

As it says in the description, the truth about the "Project" was that it led to the creation of the Spartan IIIs, and I didn't even think of that until well into the hiatus. I barely touched that in the rewrite. While it still works, I thought of this when I intended for Ackerson to be the biggest villain I could. At a time, he was behind at least three of the plots I had going for me. Guy behind Twisted System? Ackerson. 000 Reborn? Not currently in the works, but Ackerson. Halo: Underground? Fucking Ackerson!

Then I found out he was actually killed in one of the Halo graphic novels. What the fuck! Ackerson was almost like the ultimate spook behind all this shady government sanctioned crap. I'm a huge David Baldacci fan. Conspiracy theories are awesome on paper.

As for 000 itself, I didn't intend to do anything with the designation. I think I wanted to throw this in the story, and I still don't think I ever explained why Benson was called that. I just thought it was going to be a catchy enough title, since all the Spartans have their three-digit code, Jeff technically wasn't a Spartan, thus he wasn't part of the original gang and couldn't receive a real number. Then I started running with the idea (which might resurface as the reboot I've been mentioning) of Subject 000, or the precursor to Spartan IIs, since logically 0 comes before 1. The whole premise of that was supposed to be he is the very first. Of course, it's still a half-baked idea so maybe nothing will come of it.

Author's Commentary

This is for those who want a trip down memory lane. The shitty memory lane. Most of the story intact with its inaccuracies, inconsistencies, and retardedness for your enjoyment.

The commentary is whenever -! pops up or long sections in italics.

Chapter 1

It's gone. Thankfully, it isn't that drastically different in the final version so I'll commentate over one of the rewrites. I think the story is most changed from chapters 10-14. If you don't want to suffer through the early chapters, Ctrl+F your way to glorious violence and dismemberment.

1130 Hours, August 17, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Eridanus Star System, Eridanus 2, Elysium City

Keyes stole a glance at the doctor as they made their way through the playground back to their ride out. She seemed to be uncomfortable and strode with brisk strides, as if she wanted to be far away from the place as possible. Her electronic pad beeped, but Dr. Halsey ignored it. It beeped once again, and continued the pattern as a sign of urgency. Keyes didn't want to bother the woman, but she did look a little distracted by something else. Timidly, he asked, "Are you going to answer that?"

-! Right off the bat, I wanted 000 to almost mirror Nylund's style of writing, to show this scene is like a missing chapter from The Fall of Reach, so if you were to turn a page in a novel and find this, you'd read it without thinking twice. There's no other way to explain the abrupt start, no character introductions or whatever.

With a huff of irritation, she retrieved the pad and tapped a button on the side once. Her eyes quickly flitted from side to side as she peered into the tiny screen and scanned through the information.

"Wait a minute, Lieutenant," Dr. Halsey said with a wave of her hand. "I've just been informed that we have another candidate for the program in this place. We'll have to go back in and see if my sources were right."

"Go back?" Keyes sighed. He desperately wanted to get out of his civilian clothing, and the doctor could tell. She allowed herself a smile as he tried to tighten the loose collar of his shirt.

"It won't take a minute," she told him, while turning back and motioning for him to follow.

"I seriously doubt that," Keyes muttered under his breath.

The two walked closer to the facility. There still weren't any adults around to supervise the children. They stopped when they reached the courtyard.

She stared again into the data pad and held up a hand. "We're near his location, I think," Dr. Halsey said while rechecking the small device.

"Who exactly are we looking for, Doctor?" Keyes asked.

"I don't know his name, but he is a six year old male" she replied.

"Just like subject 117?"

"Yes, but this one is different," Halsey paused, "this one is more like a child genius. His brain will always be seven years ahead. Right now, being six years old, he has the mind of a thirteen year old. And by twenty, he will have the mind of a twenty-seven year old."

-! That was fucking stupid. I didn't know how to write in the voice of a six year old. But if he was the exact same as John 117, the story wouldn't be any different than TFoR.

"Impressive," Keyes said slowly, taking in all of this.

Halsey nodded and accessed a file on her pad. Without taking her eyes off, she said, "Basically, he's got talents we can't afford to ignore."

Keyes looked around until he saw a boy standing near a decorative pillar. "Is that him?"

Dr. Halsey frowned. She stared at him then turned to Keyes. "No. Either ONI sent me an old picture of the subject, or you've guessed wrong." Dr. Halsey said as she shook her head. She was getting frustrated, but they couldn't just leave a subject for the Spartan program as a civilian. Who knew what this one boy could do while serving for the UNSC.

Keyes nodded and stared off into the shadows. Even at noon, the courtyard was surprisingly gloomy and dark. Suddenly, he saw something moving within the shadows. He blinked and looked again, but everything was still. Keyes squinted and saw the figure again. He could just make out the outline of a child. The figure was moving with slow deliberate steps. Keyes tapped the doctor on the shoulder and pointed to the shadows. He and Dr. Halsey watched as the figure darted from pillar to pillar with quick and silent steps. When the figure finally poked his head out from behind a pillar, Halsey quickly took a picture and saved the file. She compared ONI's picture with the one she had just taken.

"Keyes, we have a match," Dr. Halsey whispered.

The doctor walked across the courtyard, never taking an eye off her subject that waited in the shadows. The figure silently leapt out of the shadows and was about to land on the first boy.

The doctor cleared her throat to attract the boy's attention.

The one from the shadows turned in mid jump and fell short of his target. The first boy whirled around and ran out of the courtyard screaming and giggling, "You can't catch me!"

Halsey walked over to the boy who was cursing and helping himself up. He pushed locks of light-brown hair out of his green eyes and stood up.

"Can I please speak to you?" she asked.

The boy glanced through the doors of the courtyard and made a face, then nodded slightly.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Jeff," he replied with a cold stare. Unlike her previous encounter with subject 117, this one seemed less welcoming and more hostile—like a spring ready to release. His unfriendly demeanor threw her a little, but she shrugged off the feeling.

-! This is the first time we see Jeff Benson. But this was new. I think my very original had him more friendly and charming, and while that did carry over to some later chapters, it just didn't work for the character especially in the rewrite. Jeff became a lot quieter and meaner. The character of Jeff is inspired by all the anti-heroes I came to admire. A lot of protagonists are shown as do-gooders of the universe (thanks Bioware), but with no obvious antagonist in the story (in the original), Jeff had to be violent and bloodthirsty enough for everyone. I pretty much just wanted a character to "kick fucking asshole all over the neighbourhood" as Joel Heyman of Roosterteeth fame said in the Drunk Tank regarding Modern Warfare 2. And in that same mentality, to make some comparisons, Jeff also served no purpose other than to get into fights and provide some serious bloodshed with little character development or intelligible story involved. The rewrite painted him as a little more incompetent in some regards, since arguably he shared the spotlight with Brooke and she was no goddamn pushover.

The doctor bent down to meet the boy at eye-level. She didn't have much experience with children, but this was what she'd been told to do. She put on a friendly smile, "It's nice to meet you, Jeff."

Again, he nodded but crossed his arms and leaned back against a pillar. The kid was being uncooperative—not what Dr. Halsey had prepared for. She tried again, "What were you doing?"

With a casual shrug, he answered curtly, "Tag."

"Tag?" Dr. Halsey asked, cocking her head slightly. Finally, this was going somewhere. She'd managed to get the boy to say something. She wanted to carry on. "Is that some kind of game?"

Jeff smiled, but it wasn't a smile of friendship. It was mocking, and it sent shivers down Halsey's spine. He said, "Well now, aren't you smart. Don't they teach you doctor-types anything?"

-! I struggled with this for the longest time. I still get mad over what Jeff's supposed to say at this part.

This remark threw her off completely. She stood up straight again, her eyebrow raised in question. Dr. Halsey decided to kill the acting. "What makes you think I'm a doctor, Jeff?"

He rubbed his hands together and smiled once again. "You're either a teacher or someone else completely—and just to tell you, I know every teacher in this place—plus, not many adults would like to speak to me about absolutely nothing. So this concludes with me taking a stab and saying, 'Yeah, you're a doctor.'

"Oh yeah, and to be honest, you have a blind spot about fashion. This is a small city, and I know a lot of people. I'm not sure you're from around here."

Dr. Halsey was speechless for a moment. They were right… this boy was unlike any other six year old. Maybe he was just talking smart, but either way… She ignored the clothing comment and tried one more time. "Actually, I am planning on enrolling my daughter here," Halsey lied, "and this is my husband." She hastily motioned for Keyes to come closer.

Jeff eyed the man, and his face lit up. "Hey, you UNSC?" he asked as Keyes walked up beside Halsey. The junior grade lieutenant looked at Halsey. She just shrugged and turned away with a bewildered look on her face.

He quickly said, "What? No I'm not." The navy man tried not to blow his cover, but he wasn't doing very well. "Then what gave me away?" Keyes asked, his expression mirroring Halsey's.

Jeff placed his left hand over his chin and drew a straight line up and down with his right index finger animatedly. "One thing, learn to relax," Jeff said with a smirk, "and another? Grow some hair, or get a better haircut."

Just then, a bell sounded, and children from all sides streamed in, ready for their afternoon classes. With a small laugh, Jeff stepped backwards and raised his hand to wave farewell, then melded into the crowd of kids.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Keyes said to Halsey, running his hand over his head.

"Take an acting class," she snapped and began to walk back to the ship. Jeff demonstrated stealth… in more ways than not, he was more intelligent than the average child his age, although a bit rude, but sure enough, Jeff was another candidate for the program.

-! This was one exchange I struggled with. The original was probably much worse, but this isn't any better. I changed it up in the final version, but there's still some wackiness going on I don't necessarily like. Overall though, it's not a great start to the story.

But the catch was how she was going to get him. And she was going to get him.

Chapter 2

2100 Hours, August 17, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Eridanus Star System, Eridanus 2, Elysium City

-! I would first like to note, in the final version of chapter two, for the longest time I accidentally released it with a heading of "12:45 PM, August, September 19, 2517, Elysium City" Yeah. I know.

Jeff called over his shoulder as he walked into the garage of his suburban house, "Mom, I'm going to Steve's house for a sleepover tonight."

"Okay, Jeff, but don't stay up too late," came a reply from the kitchen.

"I won't, mom."

Something caught Jeff's eye as he walked past a shelf. He pulled out his father's old fashioned BB gun. It was considered an antique nowadays. Something was going to happen tonight. He could just feel it. Jeff put the gun in his pocket. He didn't know why he was carrying it…it just felt right. Then again, he wasn't actually going to over Steve's house. Jeff sighed as he looked at his house. He may never see it again in his life. Jeff banished all those thoughts from his mind and started down the road.

-! Yeah! Some serious foreshadowing going on, baby!

2200 Hours, August 17, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Eridanus Star System, Eridanus 2, Elysium City

Jeff cursed at himself. His feet had taken him to a tree that overlooked his house. He had waited there for over two hours now. Even his parents had turned off all the lights and had gone to sleep. He had a good mind to walk back home. Suddenly, a black vehicle pulled up to his house and stopped. Jeff crouched down and watched silently. He saw three men walk up to his door. He watched as they picked the lock and silently filed into the house. Then the light turned on in his room. Jeff could see the three men standing around his bed and talking. Even for a six year old, he had the gift of being able to see very far. He didn't need any binoculars. Jeff paused and exhaled sharply. He looked again. Yes, one of the three men was holding a syringe.

"Why the hell do you need one of those things?" Jeff wondered aloud.

The three men walked out of the house. Two of them were swearing. The third one just walked over to the vehicle. They held a conversation for a few minutes. Jeff had exceptional sight, but he couldn't hear what they were talking about. He climbed the tree and crawled on top of a branch. He could just hear snippets of their conversation.

"If we don't find that kid soon, Dr. Halsey is going to have our hides"

-! I just used "have our hides" in an actual sentence. I may never write again.

"Can we help it if this kid knows what he's doing?"

The last man said something that Jeff couldn't hear. As Jeff crawled out further on the branch until he heard a cracking sound.

"Please, don't break. Please don't break. If you break on me now-" Jeff didn't get to finish. The branch broke and he fell on to the pavement. The men looked up and saw Jeff. They walked over to him. The first man pulled out the syringe and whispered, "Time for your medicine, kid."

Jeff didn't take to this lightly. He sprung up and snapped a kick at the man's groin. As Jeff turned around, the other two had moved behind him. He whipped out his BB gun. It wasn't enough to kill someone, but at point blank, it could break one's finger. Jeff quickly aimed it at the second man and squeezed the trigger. The man reeled over in pain as the pellet had struck his gut. Jeff gave the last man a defiant smirk and turned on his heel and sprinted down the street. He was also a very fast runner. The man tried to follow but quickly fell behind. Jeff ran into a forest that lay behind his education facility. He stopped and leaned against a tree, his eyes glancing around. He caught his breath. Why were those men chasing him? It was the lady. She and the UNSC man were to blame. But that still didn't explain why they were chasing him. He sat down and soon fell asleep.

! World's fastest sleeper right there. When I reread over this years later, I literally said out loud: "Haha, what the fu—"

Jeff sat upright quickly. Something told him that he wasn't alone. He looked around and saw that it was morning. But someone was watching him. He stood up and reached for his gun. Jeff waited a few more minutes then decided that it was only an animal. He walked further into the forest and glanced down. There was a sheer drop into the river. Suddenly, Jeff heard the bushes rustle. He whirled around. A man stood behind him.

"Jeff Benson? I need you to come with me. Just follow my instructions and you won't be hurt," the man said to Jeff.

"May I ask where," Jeff said.

"I'm afraid that's classified. Come on," the man said impatiently.

"Over my dead body," Jeff said with an angry glare.

"Then I'll have to force you!" The man darted forward and tried to grab Jeff but he was too quick. Jeff ran to the edge of the cliff and grinned at him.

"I'm only gonna ask you once, kid," the man tried one more attempt to grab him but Jeff jumped away and pushed the man down into river below. The man fell with a scream but was soon cut off as he landed on some sharp rocks. Jeff watched with hatred in his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He fell against a tree and tried to support himself. Then he felt a pain in his shoulder. He looked in horror as he saw a dart. Jeff tried to stand up straight but his leg was failing him. He fell to the ground and the last thing he saw was a figure that was entirely dressed in black. Then his vision went blurry and he blacked out.

Jeff blinked and looked around. He had no idea where he was or how long he was asleep, or out cold, rather. A man came into his view.

"It looks like sleeping beauty has woken up," the man said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Where am I?" Jeff asked.

"That question will be answered soon enough," the man answered as he pushed Jeff through a door. Jeff immediately saw many other children in the same room.

2300 Hours September 23, 2517 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach

"The boy Jeff Benson has been successfully captured," a man said to Dr. Halsey.

"Were there any difficulties?" The doctor said to the man.

"Well, the other man, Moore, claims that Jeff threw him off a cliff. Moore is suffering from 3 broken ribs and a fractured arm and is being treated."

"I see," Dr. Halsey said. "Now please leave. I've got to talk to Déjà."

"Yes, Doctor."

After summoning Chief Mendez and her AI, Déjà, they walked into an auditorium. Four sets of double doors opened and seventy-five…Dr. Halsey corrected herself, seventy six children filed in. She spied subject 117, John and the other boy, Jeff sitting on the risers. Doctor Halsey expected them to both be sitting together because they both came from the same city and learning facility. She stepped forward and began her speech.

Jeff looked around. He didn't see anyone he knew. Just then, the same woman who approached Jeff the other day began to speak. Being a child genius, he understood every word and phrase she spoke of. He looked at the rest of the children. They didn't seem to understand what she was saying. They gave her a look that suggested that she was an alien. Jeff understood completely why they had taken him here, to become one of the greatest soldiers in the history of mankind. He was going to become a Spartan.

-! More Fall of Reach goodness to come.

Chapter 3

0545 Hours, September 24, 2517 (Military Calender) / Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach

"Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!" Mendez called out after finishing one hundred full sit-ups. Jeff drew in a breath and swore. A boy beside him threw up but the trainers were on to him instantly with their electrical batons. After finishing leg lifts, Mendez finally said the magic word, "Rest!" Trainers gave the children bottles of water. Nobody talked. They were all afraid. Jeff stood up and looked around. That woman, Dr. Halsey, told them they were on Reach. Jeff had never heard of Reach and assumed it was a planet like the old Area 51 back on Earth.

"Done already, trainee?" Mendez asked with a menacing glare.

Jeff turned around and tried to say no, but the words didn't come out of his mouth.

"Okay, back on your feet. We're going for a run."

The rest of the children grumbled and gave Jeff dirty looks. After the run, Mendez had led them to a building that resembled a dome. Jeff saw someone standing by the door. She looked like a figure out of history.

"An AI," Jeff decided, "She can only be an AI"

"Welcome," the AI said, "My name is Déjà. I will be your teacher. Please come in, class is about to start."

Jeff heard the rest of the children groan. He for one was happy to sit in a cool and dark building instead of doing the morning calisthenics. He sat at a desk and stared ahead.

"We are going to be the Universe's best soldiers," Jeff pondered the meaning. From what he knew, and as far as he was concerned, the UNSC marines were the best in the universe. But something told him that the history of mankind will be changed forever.

-! I remember when I wrote this, I had the actual fucking book in my hand so I could quickly see what was going on and comment on it from another perspective. That's what the cool kids do, right?

After their exercise in the "playground", Jeff strolled out of the dining hall. It was too bad team three had lost. He remembered that boy, number 117's face when he heard that he had lost. That kid did not like to lose. On his way back to the barracks, he saw a dark figure move out of the main building. Jeff squinted to get a better look. Yes, it was the same man who had shot him with the darts. Jeff thought back to that day. Even with his gift of spectacular vision, he could not see the man. Marine snipers couldn't hide that well, and Jeff doubted that Dr. Halsey would even bother the UNSC for a marine. The man walked off the training grounds and into an outlying forest. Jeff followed closely behind, making sure not to step on anything that might give him away. The man came into a clearing. He glanced behind him but Jeff was nowhere to be seen. Jeff saw the man march across a field and into a cabin. This was his chance; he ran to the cabin and crouched by the window. The man was looking at a sniper rifle. But this rifle didn't look like the standard issue S2 AM Sniper Rifle. It seemed somehow…modified. Jeff slipped in through the door silently. The man seemed preoccupied with cleaning his rifle. He didn't even notice when Jeff took the pistol lying on the counter and held it up to the man's head.

"What do you want from me?" the man asked as he raised his head slightly.

"My old life back…if you could spare it" Jeff said as he lowered the pistol.

"Jeff Benson? How did you get off-?"

"I'll ask the questions," Jeff growled as he pushed the pistol deeper into the man's head.

"Listen kid, Halsey paid me to get you. She knew you'd try to pull something off like that."

"So she paid you, did she? How much, then?"

"That's classified and I-"

"Shut up and answer the question."

"Five thousand."

"And you accepted."

"Of course I accepted."

"Shameless bastard, that's what you are."

"Look, you're not really going to shoot me, are you?"

Jeff thumbed the safety and replied, "Think again." He paused for a second. "I won't shoot you, only if you promise to teach me to be a crack shot like you. In other words, I want to be a freelancer."

"What gave you the idea that I was a freelancer?" the man asked as he turned around to face Jeff. He had blonde hair and dull grey eyes and looked as if he was in his mid thirties.

"If there's money involved, the freelancer is always there for the kill," Jeff said as he thumbed the safety and threw the pistol away.

"Jeff, you're a smart kid. Are you sure you want to become like me?"

"Well, there's hope in being the UNSC's finest, but I do want to become like you. Except not outsmarted by a 6 year old."

The man's jaw clenched. "Yeah yeah, don't let it get to your head. So you caught me off guard. By the way, my name is Paul Andrews. If you really want it, your training starts tomorrow."

"Awesome," Jeff said with his famous grin. "I'll be there. I mean, what's to lose?"

"Your sanity," Paul muttered but Jeff had already walked out the door.

-! I liked the idea of Jeff's Obi-Wan, but I don't think it carried too well, especially at the pace I jumped around. Also, that chapter sucked. All these chapters suck!

Chapter 4

Oh no! It's missing! I think it was the same as the rewritten version in spirit, with minor changes at the end. See the footnote at the end of that chapter for my shoutout to Shadecaster. There are no other rewritten versions to show, unfortunately.

Chapters 5, 6, and 7

This was kind of a shame I don't have them on hand either. But these are the last few missing, so that's progress. Five and six detailed the break in of the Reach medical facility. It's the same plot as in the rewrite, but the whole part with him breaking in and breaking out was one of the reasons why I wanted to do the rewrite. He was such a different character back then, compared to what he ended up as (at least in the original story) and some crazy shit went down during that whole part of the story.

If you ever witnessed the original chapter 5, people got messed up. Jeff was murdering dudes left and right. It wasn't so much an infiltration, more of a crazy massacre shoot 'em up. I toned that down much more, but kept in some of the deaths. I didn't exactly want to turn it from "rated R" to "PG-13" or "shotguns to walkie-talkies", but I did want to keep a sense of lethality about the character. Kind of like Sam Fisher. Third Echelon doesn't like it when Fisher kills guys, but if he wants to kill guys, he's gonna fucking kill guys.

Seven introduced the marine Jen Wilson. Originally, she was Jeff's main squeeze for the entire story. The only problem was, she was such a boring character she had no room to develop. I remember writing the very first chapter 13, making her something of Jeff's partner. I didn't think I could change her character that much, and thus the entire idea was done away with. She was written out of the second chapter 13 without so much as a goodbye.

Their scenes together were clumy, awkward and embarrassing to read as well as write. 000 needed a strong female lead, and the introduction of the Spartan Brooke provided that.

Chapter 8

With the feel of the rifle in his hands, Jeff had walked away. He had forgotten about Jen just like that. The thoughts of murder flashed in his head. No doubt, Paul was right. Dr. Halsey still wanted to turn Jeff into a Spartan. But he was still looking for a way off this damn rock. Suddenly, a marine came from behind him, ready to grab him, but Jeff whirled around and bludgeoned him the rifle he held. Jeff was a remarkably strong fellow, and the butt caught the marine in the nose. Blood poured out of a nostril. Another marine had his rifle trained on Jeff.

"Halt! You aren't permitted to carry around firearms, order of Dr. Halsey."

Ah, yes. Jeff had been so caught up with his thoughts, he had forgotten about the rifle.

"Sorry about that," Jeff said with a small grin. He laid the gun on the ground and continued walking.

"Spartan 000, come here." A voice sounded. It was Dr. Halsey. Jeff turned to face her in disgust. Beside her was another face that looked familiar. The Doctor spoke again, "Jeff, this is Dr. Wells. She has come up with a better technique for the augmentation process of the Spartan."

-! The introduction of Dr. Rachael Wells. She plays more or less the same role as Halsey, but she was added in originally only to take the load off of Halsey, who was probably preoccupied with other issues. I didn't want to have to rely on pre-written characters and in the rewrite, tried my hardest to get rid of any Halo characters. On that same token though, I always wanted to keep Ackerson around by name. After I got the idea of (spoilers!) Jeff and Brooke being the precursors to Spartan IIIs, Wells had to be working under the Colonel.

She didn't have much to do the first time around. Even the original 14 and 15, Wells and Jeff were on pretty good terms. Over time every female character in the rewrite became an ultra bitch. I don't know why.

Seriously.

Jeff leaned forward and shook Dr. Wells' hand. She had red streaks in her hair and she looked like a replica of Dr. Halsey. But she seemed as old as Jeff.

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor," said Jeff.

"The pleasure's all mine."

"Jeff, this leaves us with two options. You can either become a Spartan, or be in jail like Paul there."

-! Paul Andrews was only arrested in this version. In the final rewrite, he is totally killed and never seen nor mentioned again.

"Jail doesn't sound half bad. But why jail?"

"You were caught red handed for breaking and entering, you've assaulted 2 guards, and you've killed 5 others."

-! It doesn't sound bad now, but wait until he escapes.

"Ah, yes. I would have to choose," Jeff paused, noting that a guard had moved up from behind him. "A Spartan…but not right away."

"You've made a smart choice, Jeff. Your skills would be a great addition to the UNSC and the other Spartans," Dr. Halsey said, her mouth curled into a small smile. "That reminds me. The other Spartans have returned from their training exercise. They sport something that you may find quite…interesting."

"I'll never find the Spartans interesting," Jeff muttered under his breath. He turned around to walk to his room.

Behind a wall, Jen had heard snippets of the conversation.

"Now that is interesting," she said to herself. "Very interesting indeed."

-! Wow. That's pretty terrible. God dammit.

Jeff couldn't sleep. He missed the comfort of his own bed. And the worst thing of all, he couldn't trust those ONI bastards. They might take him while he's asleep. Jeff swung his legs out of bed and stood up. He needed some fresh air.

The cold air of the dark night froze his bare arms. Looked into the forest and sighed. So many little memories existed in this place. He shivered. He had no intention of becoming a Spartan, but being in jail didn't help either.

"Spartan 000," a voice said from behind him. Jeff turned around. It was Jen.

"I knew it was you. I want some answers, Jeff," Jen said with a serious face.

"Well, go on."

"Why are you named Spartan 000?"

"That's a secret," Jeff was cut off.

"No more secrets," Jen said firmly.

"All right. Here's the truth," Jeff took a deep breath from his nose. "I've been on Reach before. To be perfectly honest, when I was six years old. I was drafted as a Spartan. But the thing is, I didn't want to become a Spartan. So I escaped from Reach. I lived on Earth, after that. You may not believe me, but I make a living as an assassin," Jeff paused, seeing the look of utter disbelief on Jen's face. "Need I go on?"

"Please do."

"Right, one day, someone called me up and gave me an assignment: to break into the ONI building, get the files for the Spartans, and then to give it to him. All of that for ten million dollars. And now, I end up here."

Jen straightened up. "So what are you going to do with your life now?"

"I've been asked to be a Spartan. And if I do get outta here, that bastard who set me up is going to pay. Dearly. Anyway, I'm not going to stick around here any longer. I will escape, sooner or later."

"But, what's wrong with being a Spartan?"

"Oh don't start that again! I value my emotions—"

"That's a new one."

"Anyway. What are they good for? Super soldiers…built for war. They are freaks. What can I say?"

Suddenly, a creature stepped out from behind a wall. Jeff's eyes widened. He stood up and flinched.

"Calm down, Jeff. It's only a Spartan," Jen said with a sigh.

"That beast is a Spartan? It's a walking tank!"

"It's good to see you again, Jeff," the Spartan said.

"John? Is that you?"

"Dr. Halsey sent me out here to look for you. Apparently, you should be in your room."

"Well, apparently, John, I'm busy. Come back later."

"Now, Jeff!"

"It's best not to upset these guys, Jeff," Jen whispered silently. She took his hand in hers. "Where can I find you again?"

Jeff tried to whisper, but it was no use. He didn't know the Spartans had improved hearing. "Meet me in New Vancouver."

With that, the Spartan whisked him off to the ONI building.

-! During the rewrite, I wanted Jeff to drop a clue so they could meet up again, but scrapped the idea entirely once I was confident she could be written out.

Chapter 9

As soon as the Spartan was out of sight, Jeff sat down at a desk. He needed some serious thinking. Dr. Halsey was bent on turning him into a Spartan. He needed to get off Reach…fast.

The door swung open and a guard strolled through.

"Jeff Benson," the guard asked.

"Why the hell would you want to know?"

"Dr. Wells has changed the date of your augmentation. I'm here to escort you to the medical bay."

"She changed the date, did she? Well, tell her that I'm not ready yet," Jeff said, turning back to face the desk. He turned around again, to see that the guard was still standing there. "What are you up to? Come on, be off with you."

"Look bub, I'm nobody's messenger boy. So you're either coming with me willingly, or I'll have to force you."

"Oh so threatening," Jeff said, his back still turned towards the guard.

"That's it, you're coming with me," the guard's hand fell across Jeff's shoulder. That was the biggest mistake he would ever make in his lifetime. With a lightning fast reaction, Jeff grabbed the man's hand and squeezed. Jeff heard the man's bones breaking. He screamed out, but Jeff wasn't done with him just yet.

He jumped up and planted his foot into the guard's stomach. The man doubled over in pain. Jeff then brought his elbow down on the man's head. He still wasn't going down. Jeff dropped down and swung his leg at the guard's leg. That did it the trick. His legs gave away, and before he fell, Jeff grabbed his pistol out of the holster. The guard tried to scramble to his feet, but Jeff planted his heel into the back of his head.

Jeff leaned closer to his ear and whispered, "See here, I don't really kill people for no reason at all. I'm in it for the money. But you're a first. Welcome to my long list, my friend." And with that, Jeff emptied the clip into the guard's head.

Jeff searched the body for more ammo clips and found two more. Dr. Wells had taken her first bold move in this little game.

-! This was the stage in my writing when I didn't know what the fuck a paragraph was for. I wrote everything in one massive chunk. Below is the properly spaced out version.

He stepped into the brightly lit hallway and blinked. A door flew open, and another guard stepped through. It only took a split second before Jeff was on to him. Jeff landed a ferocious blow to the man's face, leaving an instant dark bruise. He kicked the guard's head a few times and planted a round into his forehead.

Too bad for Jeff, the pistol wasn't silenced, and the hallway wasn't soundproof. Another guard rushed through the opposite door of the hallway. Jeff engaged him in another hand-to-hand fight. The guard swung his fist at Jeff's head, but to his surprise, Jeff didn't even try to block it. The pistol went off, and the round tore through the guard and exited through his back. He crumpled in a heap.

Jeff ran through a door and found himself in another hallway. He needed directions. More importantly, he needed to find his equipment and personal weapons. Marines! He snuck up on one and grabbed his helmet and tore it off his head. He dragged the struggling marine to a wall and quickly stood behind him. He grabbed the back of his head, and his arm shot forward. The marine's head slammed into the wall with a pulpy smack! Jeff repeated this for a few more minutes, and then stopped.

The white wall had been dented in, and had been painted red. With two hands, he picked the marine up and swung his whole body out a window. Jeff peered into the darkness. The marine's body was limp. He wasn't moving at all. Actually, who would survive a twelve foot drop? Certainly not a human, I can tell you that. Unfortunately, the marine was off duty, and he wasn't carrying a weapon.

Suddenly, the door Jeff wanted to take shot open, and a marine bearing an MA5B Assault Rifle ran through. Jeff dove to the floor, the Assault Rifle rounds passing right over his head. He brought up his pistol and fired the trigger at the marine's torso. Right at that second, another marine came through a door behind Jeff on the opposite side of the long hall. The first marine clutched his chest, and he fell to the ground, his finger twitched and squeezed the trigger. Rounds burst from the rifle, and luckily, they passed over Jeff and implanted themselves in the marine who had just come through behind Jeff.

Jeff grabbed the rifle and stopped. The marine behind him was bearing an M90 Shotgun. He was about to reach for it, and then another marine strolled through the door with a new rifle Jeff had never seen before. It had an attached scope on it. As the marine pulled the trigger, Jeff pushed the rifle down. He wretched the rifle from the marine's grip and swung the butt at the marine's head.

The marine went down and slumped against a wall, blood pouring out of his nose. Jeff held the butt in front, and heaved it at the marine's head. He had surely fractured the marine's skull. He quickly abandoned the MA5B and picked up the M90 and the new rifle instead. He slung the shotgun over his shoulder and found some clips for his rifle. It was almost like his own rifle, except his sported a fully automatic feature as well as a single shot.

The only difference was that Jeff's didn't have a scope. He never had any need for one. He could pick off a target over 100 metres away…and have a head-shot too.

He continued to the next hallway. Hallways and rooms were what the ONI building was all about. Anyone could get lost in this damn place. This hallway was empty. That was a little strange. Then suddenly, he noticed a surveillance camera in the corner.

"Shit," Jeff cried through clenched teeth, as he dove to the ground and rolled off to the side. The door in front of him shot open and rounds flew out, hitting the other side of the hallway. He stood up, and four marines entered through the door. And behind him, four more marines came through.

"Not this again," Jeff muttered. Before anyone could react, Jeff dropped his rifle and pulled out his shotgun. A marine ran towards him, in a futile hope to disarm him. Jeff turned around and squeezed the trigger. The marine was blown backwards. The magnum-like rounds had completely torn the marine's chest open. Bits of rib and tissue had left a trail and surrounded the corpse.

Through the gaping hole, Jeff could see what was left of the bones and organs. He could even see his heart, slowing down its vigorous pace. Blood gushed out of the wound. Jeff turned around and fired into the middle of the first group of marines. He caught one in the shoulder, and another in the leg, but they could still fight. He aimed once more and squeezed the trigger. He expected the shotgun to kick against his shoulder, but all he heard was a dreaded click!

He held the gun like a club and all hell broke loose. A marine fired his pistol and Jeff easily dodged it. But a not-so-lucky marine caught the loose round in his face. Jeff ran up to the marine, pulled the pistol out of his hands, and brought it down on the marine's head, and then shot him in the face. Another from behind him on the right of the hallway held his MA5B Rifle, pointed at Jeff, but he picked up the marine that he had previously killed and held up his body shield.

The Assault Rifle was strong, but not strong enough to tear through a victim. Not that far away, that is. The rounds ripped chunks of flesh off the body. A marine on the left tried to run at Jeff, but the assassin launched his fist at the last possible second, and caught the marine in the face. Jeff grabbed the marine and threw him into the gunfire.

From behind his human shield, Jeff raised his pistol and fired it. He threw the corpse down to the ground. He ran up to the marines on the left and shot them with his pistol. He discarded the empty piece of junk and turned to the group of marines on the right. They were priming a stun grenade. Jeff spotted something sticking out from the corpses. It was the rifle that he had dropped earlier. He ran to it, but it was too late. The marine lobbed the grenade at him. But Jeff was always ever the resourceful thinker. In a millisecond, he had flipped the rifle around, and then he batted the grenade back at the marines as if it were a baseball.

A Spartan would never think of that.

The marines tried to run, but they couldn't for they were in an enclosed space. Jeff closed his eyes, and the grenade went off. A marine tried running at him to get to the door, but Jeff gunned him down with two bursts of the rifle. He took aim and shot the rest of the marines to death. He was ready to go to Dr. Wells, but something caught his eye. He ran to a door in the same hallway where he had killed the eight marines. He strolled through and his eyes lit up.

He had found his beloved things. He threw the rifle to the side and ran to his own rifle. He picked up everything that he had brought in with him. He pulled out a special knife of his. It was used for very special assassinations. He stepped into the hallway again. He looked around once more. It looked like a war had gone on in there. Bodies lay strewn along the ground, blood was splattered on the walls in very peculiar patterns; some of the bodies were missing limbs. The floor was also slick with blood, and it lay in puddles. Jeff wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and continued his escape.

-! Ultra violence galore. The Madness Combat stage of my story. Those flash videos have managed to become more violent as the series proceeds while I toned it down.

Chapter 9 and 10

9 and 10 because at the time of posting this, I just realized I don't know where the fuck Chapter 9 ends and 10 begins, so they're combined.

Jeff entered the next hallway and frowned. He looked at the elevator and shook his head. He thought better of it, and took the stairs. If they did lock the elevator down again, they had taken his grappling hook. Jeff glanced down the winding staircase and started forward.

After a little while, he stopped at a door. It led to the hallway. He peeked out and saw two marine guards. With a wicked smile, he brought his rifle into play. He fished in his pocket and brought out a single round. Jeff ejected the nearly full clip and shoved it in his pocket for a little later. Silently, he placed the single round in a special compartment in his rifle. He peered around the corner once more and pulled the butt right up against his shoulder.

"Just stay put, just a second longer," Jeff thought as he readied the rifle. He positioned it in such an angle. With a twitch of a finger, the round burst out. Except, the only problem was that the rifle wasn't even pointing at the men. Quite on the contrary, it was aimed at the wall opposite to them. But almost by "magic", the round hit the wall, ricocheted off it and hit one of the men.

Jeff silently cursed. The round was supposed to bounce off and hit both of the guards.

"And that was my last one," he growled—perhaps a little too loud.

"Hey, who's there?" the second marine yelled out. He ran towards Jeff's position. The marine was running straight past him, except Jeff jumped out and grabbed him first. He pinned him down and swung his fists at his face. The marine opened up his mouth to scream out, but Jeff clamped his bloody hand down on it. He landed a heavy blow to the marine's stomach and the blood sloshed out from under Jeff's hand. He watched as the red liquid dribbled down the marine's face—past his terrified eyes. He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the marine's forehead. His eyes brimmed with tears as they followed the barrel. Jeff pulled his hand away from the marine's mouth and wiped the blood off on the marine's shirt.

"I'll let you live, just this once. But if you raise the alarm or anything like that, I swear, I will hunt you down," Jeff said in a menacing whisper. He pulled the marine to his feet and winked at him. Before he could react, Jeff swung his rifle at his head and it impacted with a pulpy crack! The marine dropped to the floor, unconscious. Blood poured from a nostril and leaked from his mouth.

Jeff walked around the hall and clenched his jaw. It was the wrong floor. He ran back to the stair case and walked down one more floor. He opened the door slightly. He saw Dr. Wells standing in front of her office, her arms crossed and her foot tapped with impatience. She glanced at her watch with an irritated look on her face. He was about to walk forward, but then he thought of an idea. He searched his pocket once more and frowned. They had taken his gadget to kill the lights, but maybe…

He took out the clip in his pocket and fed it back into his rifle. No, he wasn't going to shoot her. His rounds were powerful enough to go through some metals. He saw the breaker box at the end of the hall and took aim. He brought out his knife for later use. He squeezed the trigger and three rounds burst out and hit their mark. The power went out for the whole building. It was pitch black, except for the light of the moon. He could see the Doctor blindly wandering around. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled out his knife. He ran behind her and snaked his arm around her neck. She gasped as Jeff pulled her towards his own body and brought his knife to her throat.

"Come along now, Doctor. We have much to discuss," Jeff whispered in her ear. He dragged her backwards into her office and shut the door.

"Now, Doctor, let's talk, shall we? Where is my data cube?"

"Jeff! Where is my escort I sent you?"

"Answer the question!"

"I don't know—"

"Yes you do. Don't play stupid with me, Doctor," Jeff pulled the flat of the blade against her throat.

"I don't have it," she said, her voice faltered.

Jeff slowly rubbed the flat of the blade, pushing it even deeper into her neck. "One more time, and all I have to do is pull."

Panic gripped the Doctor. Dr. Halsey didn't want her to give him the cube, but if she refused, she was going to die—painfully.

"Come on, Doctor. I know you have it," Jeff sighed. He waited five more seconds. She wasn't answering. He pushed her against a wall with a grunt. With his free hand, he crept around her waist and searched in both pockets of her white lab coat. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. His face was still hidden in the shadows, but his eyes shone out eerily. He stared at her for a split second, and reached into her coat. He felt the inside pocket and pulled out the cube. It shimmered in the darkness like a light. She could see Jeff's eyes light up with anticipation.

"Thank you, Doctor. Now let us hope that our paths never cross again," Jeff said and he turned around and walked to the staircase. Dr. Wells released her breath and leaned against the wall. Being so close to death wasn't so fun. How could marines stand being at the frontlines?

Jeff broke into a run when he neared the entrance of this damn building. A group of marines were standing in front, probably doing a little training. About three, at least. They turned around when they saw him and pulled out pistols and rifles. Jeff's shoes skidded on the dirt as he scrambled to a halt. He jumped behind a pillar, just as the marines opened fire. The bullets pinged harmlessly off the stone column. He peeked around the corner and dove at the nearest marine. He slammed his fist into the marine's face. He then pivoted and shot his foot out and caught another in the gut. Jeff ran at the final marine and grabbed her by the shoulders. Wait, her? When they both landed on the ground with a crash, the helmet fell away, and a clump of blonde hair brushed past his cheek. When he looked at her face, he scrambled to get up, but her hand whipped out and slugged him in the jaw.

"Jesus, watch it," Jeff started. The marine's slender body twisted around and her head slammed into Jeff's torso. He grunted as she threw her full body weight into him and he fell and lay on his back. Jeff tried to pull himself up, but the marine had pinned him down as if they were in a wrestling stadium. The marine looked at his face. She gasped and quickly let go of his arms and legs. She stepped backwards, right on Jeff's foot. He twisted it, and she fell down again. But this time, right on top of Jeff.

She stared into his eyes for a brief moment.

"Jeff! What are you doing out here?"

He grunted once again and rolled over, pushing her off of him. "Jen, I was just about to ask the same question."

She darted to her feet and helped him up. "Sorry about that. But we're on the lookout for a dangerous criminal."

"A dangerous—who?"

"Dr. Wells says that he's a dangerous criminal, all right? You'd better get back to your room before she suspects anything."

Suddenly, the lights in the building all flashed on and a siren went off. Jeff gritted his teeth.

"Shit," he turned towards Jen. "It's been nice knowing you and all, but I've got to run. I'll see you some other time, perhaps."

"What are you talking…" she glanced down. The lights illuminated his blood stained shirt and her eyes widened. You're the criminal?"

"I hate to break it to you, but yes and no—not a criminal."

She stared at him in disbelief until he took her into his arms and kissed her on the lips.

-! Love 'em and leave 'em kinda guy.

He withdrew and looked back at the blinding lights. He ran away into a nearby hangar. He spotted a Pelican drop ship. He looked around for any other type of ship but couldn't find any. He ran around the side, and ran right into her pilot. He crashed to the ground.

"Hey, watch we're you going! What are you doing here," the pilot growled. Jeff dove on top of him and grabbed his forehead. He tried to scream out, but Jeff forcefully shoved his head into the steel plates of the Pelican. He did so again, and once more. After the third time, he let the pilot's body slide to the ground. He struggled to rise, but Jeff took aim, and kicked him in the face. His shoe hit his head hard, and it slammed into the Pelican again.

He kicked him in the head two more times. Two more metallic clangs from the Pelican sounded throughout the silent hangar. He tried to plead for mercy, but Jeff picked him up and threw him into the metal once again. He positioned the pilot right at the Pelican held his head still with one hand, pushing his head against the steel. And with the other hand, he repeatedly punched him in the back of the head. A sick crunching was heard throughout the hangar.

He dropped the body to the ground once more. He gently to the pilot's arms and positioned his shoe right on top of his spine. With one quick movement, he pushed down with his foot and pulled up on the pilot's arms at the same time. There was a horrible cracking sound this time, and the pilot uttered one last dying scream. It sounded like a wild animal call. It rang in Jeff's ear as he dropped the limp rag doll to the ground. He wiped the blood from his body and smeared it on the pilot's own shirt.

He boarded the pelican, and started it up. The hangar doors had been opened, and he flew through them with a relative ease and left Reach behind.

While he flew, he looked at his blood stained hands. He was a cold hearted killer. Nothing could change that. But when he was with Jen in the courtyard, he felt like nothing could ever move him. He sighed. He had to plan his long journey home…back to Earth.

It was time to get back on track. He had made it back to Earth, catching a little ride on a pirate spacecraft. Jeff cut through slip-space like that.

Someone wanted Jeff out of the picture. And that someone was going to pay…dearly. He was back at his apartment. Nothing much had changed. He was probably a wanted man back on Reach. Those little buggers got in his way.

"It was too bad for them," Jeff said with a sneer. He checked his special device. It acted as a Caller ID, except it penetrated through cell phones and pay phones. It would give you the exact location of where in the city it was from, and other bits of miscellaneous. He found the number of the man who had assigned him the damn job in the first place. That bastard was going to get a nasty little surprise. He set the machine to dial his number. He rang once. Then again. In mid-ring of the third, a voice rang through.

"Who the hell are you, and how did you get this number?"

Jeff forced the anger back down inside of him and spoke with a calm voice. "Good afternoon, my friend. I'm assuming you know who it is?"

"No idea, so speak up."

"You remember promising ten million in cash, right? But that wasn't a promise you could keep, am I correct? Well here's a shocker: Jeff Benson speaking."

There was a long pause, followed by an audible gulp. The voice spoke again. But this time, it seemed raspy. It was almost as if the man had lost his voice in a few seconds.

"J-J-Jeff Benson?" he stammered.

"Is there a problem?"

"N-No problem at all…do you have the plans?"

"Yes."

"How do I know you aren't lying?"

"You'll know…because we'll meet tomorrow, right at the place you proposed when we first spoke."

-! I don't know if I ever wrote that in, thinking back.

There was another pause, but then the man spoke in a more confident voice.

"Okay, right at that spot. Any time specific?"

"Any time's fine. So you're sure you have the money?"

"Of course I do!" the voice replied, obviously lying.

"Good," Jeff replied, adding menace to his tone, "I'll have you know, it took a long time for me to get this cube. I'll be very angry if something were to happen…for instance, the money isn't there. And I don't think you've seen me angry."

The courage failed the man's voice once more. "Don't worry, Jeff. I'll get it to you. 6:00 pm tomorrow."

"6:00 it is, then. I'll be looking forward to this," Jeff said, his lip curled up in a wicked grin. With that, he hung up and rubbed his hands together. Tomorrow was going to be a big day…a really big day.

He had some business to take care of. He quickly retrieved the cube from his personal computer. He quickly destroyed the files that he had recently downloaded and pocketed the cube. Jeff was about to leave, but then he had a plan. He walked back to his room and stuffed some extra pillows and blankets under the covers of his bed. He stood back and looked at his work. It looked like a sleeping figure. Perfect. He turned off the lights and stepped out into the streets below.

From inside a local pub, a door opened. A shadowy figure stepped into the dimly lit room. Men sat in groups, talking loudly and laughing—having a good time. A few were having a drinking competition, while others occupied themselves with games of darts or at the Pool table. It was quite an "old fashioned" pub. It looked like something styled during the 1940's.

He pulled the collar of his coat higher up his neck and slunk to the counter.

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked. He looked quite young. His blonde hair fell over his eyes once or twice as he filled up a glass with beer and slid it down the counter, the froth almost spilling from the brim.

"Whisky will do, please," Jeff said, taking a seat on a stool. The bartender looked at him suspiciously as he set down a glass and bottle. Jeff poured himself half a glass and took a sip and smiled. Damn, it felt good to be on Earth again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bartender still watching him. Jeff picked up the glass and took a swig, downing the liquid in a single gulp. He rubbed his chin and called the bartender over.

"Yes?"

"Hey, I'm looking for Mr. Travis. Is he here tonight?"

"Why, yes. But he's having a little meeting, and—"

"Where?"

"In the back room, but—"

The bartender was interrupted once again. Jeff stood up and dropped a few coins down on the counter. He picked up and bottle and turned around, silently searching for a door.

"Sir, he asks not to be disturbed. May I ask who you are and why you want to see him?"

"Well, tell him that Jeff is here is see him. He'll know."

The bartender turned around to leave, but stopped. He slowly faced Jeff. "Jeff Benson? You're him?" It looked like the bartender's eyes were going to pop out of his sockets. "Wait here, please." He ran to a door in the corner of the pub. A few minutes later, he returned and gestured for Jeff to follow him in. Jeff walked through the door and was immediately confronted by two men dressed in fashionable suits. They looked like the classic gangsters.

"Hold still, please. Mr. Travis has ordered us to perform a search you," one of them ordered.

Jeff removed his coat and lifted up his arms. They didn't find any weapons on him, but in his jacket, on the other hand, contained his small pistol. One man took the pistol and his bottle of Whiskey, while the other roughly shoved him through the door of the last room. Six men sat at a round table, playing with cards. From the looks of things, it was Poker, another almost ancient game. The bodyguard set down Jeff's pistol and bottle in front of another man at the table. It was Dave Travis.

Jeff allowed himself a small smile.

"Jeff Benson! What a pleasure to see you again!" Dave greeted holding out his arms.

"Dave," Jeff nodded his head.

"Come on and join us, there are extra spots."

"No thanks, Dave."

"But I insist."

"Dave, I have something important to tell you."

"Then tell it after our game. Just play one round, Jeff."

"Oh fine. Then you'll listen?"

"Of course! Anything for my old friend."

Dave was someone Jeff knew he could rely on. Jeff did a few jobs for him sometimes. He was involved in the smuggling business as well.

Jeff sat down in an empty seat. A woman dealt the cards out to everyone.

After a few minutes, all of the players had folded except for Jeff and Dave. How odd. Jeff was lucky at some things after all.

"As lucky as John?" a voice rang through his head.

"No. But if you call being a Spartan 'lucky', I'd probably laugh out loud right now," Jeff thought back at the voice.

"Come on, Jeff. Wouldn't you rather be out kicking ass? Fighting for the UNSC?"

"Hah! I get enough kicking ass right now, as an assassin. Why would I need a team?" Jeff countered.

"Uh, Jeff? Are you still here? We're still in the game. This is our final showdown," Dave's voice interrupted Jeff's mental conversation.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." They quickly flipped their cards. Dave's face was in utter disbelief. They had both gotten straights, but Jeff's ranked higher by just one card. He scowled as he shoved the poker chips in Jeff's direction. Jeff stood up.

"Dave, now we have to talk," Jeff said, walking to another room in the back.

"Right," Dave stood up and followed Jeff.

They entered the small room and Jeff shut the door.

"That was a good game. I was sure I was going to win," Dave said with a sly smile.

"I'm just here for one round anyway. But it doesn't matter. See, I have a proposition. If you help me, that money you just lost will be peanuts."

Dave narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Sit down and listen," Jeff said, gesturing to a chair. "There's going to be a trade off. My loot that I've just stolen. One little cube for…ten million—in cash too."

Dave was silent. He looked up at Jeff and spoke. "And, how does this affect me?"

"You know why I was gone for so long? The bastard had actually set me up. I was imprisoned on Reach. I thought it was going to be a quick little job. Jump into there, and run out. But now, I have the goods. I need your help. I think something twisted is going to happen. I'll give you four million in cash. Hire three more men and pay them. Meet up with me tomorrow. I'll come by here. Be ready with your men—and come armed."

Jeff returned home after that. He had vision like no other. He saw something strange about his doorknob. There were his fingerprints, all right, but they seemed to be a little bit smudged. This little detail wouldn't be visible to even the naked eye…but then again, Jeff was gifted, wasn't he?

Someone had definitely gripped his doorknob. That someone was wearing rubber gloves, too. He opened his door and stared at his apartment. It was totally ransacked. Books were thrown out of the book case and scattered all around. His computer had been turned on. The dishes in his kitchen were lying all over the place…luckily, not broken. Pillows had been thrown from his couch, and vids from his visual projector unit had been thrown around. He walked down the hallway. When he opened his room door, his eyes widened. There were six bullet holes through his blanket. So his trick had worked. His clothes had been thrown around.

He heard a soft meow. He peered under his bed and sighed. They had even frightened his pet cat. He offered out his hand, and the small animal crawled out from hiding. Jeff picked it up and stroked its head gently. He walked out and set it down in the hallway. Jeff later recorded the mysterious number down and grimaced. He then got to cleaning up the mess. Later that night, he lay in his bed, lightly fingering the pistol underneath his pillow. Jeff didn't sleep. He wouldn't dare sleep.

The next day, he grabbed his pistol and pocketed it where it usually lay. In the inside compartment of his coat. Jeff checked his watch. It read 5:45. He walked to the pub and found Dave and his three men.

"Alright, here's the plan," Jeff said, beckoning for the four of them to come closer.

After explaining what to do, Jeff whipped out his cellular phone and dialed the number.

"Now, who's this?" the same voice said with annoyance.

"Guess who," Jeff said in his unreasonably calm voice. If you were to hear his voice like that, it was reassuring and creepy at the same time.

"Jeff Benson? Why, why of course it's you!"

"Yes. We're still up for today, then."

"Yeah. What ever gave you the idea that we weren't?

"Well, the simple thing called death sometimes gets into people's ways."

The voice was silent. "Ah, yes. Then, I'll see you in five minutes, Jeff Benson."

Jeff hung up. "Yeah, I'll be seeing you too—dead," he muttered aloud. He turned to the expectant faces. "All right, let's go."

The men grinned and slid fresh clips into their pistols.

They walked down the street. Suddenly, Jeff held up a hand. He told them to go to their designated spots and wait for his signal.

He slipped through a crack and walked down the alleyway. There he was—the man who he vowed to kill, if it would take his life. There he was, just standing there, holding a metal briefcase.

"That'll make a good bludgeoning object," Jeff thought silently. He confronted the man. The man wore dark sunglasses and his hair was slicked in such a hairstyle. He wore a black business jacket and a light blue shirt underneath.

"I finally get to meet the mystery man," Jeff said, holding out his hand.

"Yes, it's quite a pleasure," the man shook Jeff's hand.

"So you have the money?"

"Yes, right here," he held up the briefcase. He laid it flat, and then touched the latch. The lid sprang open. Jeff's eyes lit up as he saw the money.

"How do I know that there's ten million in there," Jeff asked.

"I can take the time to count it out for you," the man said.

"No, it's fine," Jeff replied. He didn't see anything wrong with it. It was as real as anything. "And here's the memory cube," Jeff said, digging in his pocket. He withdrew the cube. He could see the man's eye's light up in turn. He passed the cube over, just as the man passed him the money.

Jeff offered his hand out again and the man clutched Jeff's hand. Jeff smiled and added, "If I ever do business with you again, what's your name, my good friend?"

"Randall Sanderson, but I seriously doubt we'll be doing business together again," Randall said with a little smirk.

"And why do you say that, my friend?" Jeff said, forcing down a little chuckle.

Jeff's extraordinary vision caught a slight twitch in Randall's free hand. Right before he did a hand signal, Jeff drew his gun and fired in the air.

Randall's eyebrows shot up and he screamed, "Fire! Shoot him, now!"

Four gunshots went off in unison. Jeff couldn't contain his grin. But this was no ordinary grin, no; it was a "last look" kind of grin. It was the kind of smile a homicidal maniac would give a victim. Four bodies fell from above—they were Randall's men. Randall stood, frozen in fear. Jeff took these extra few seconds to execute his "moves". First, his hand shot forward and grabbed the cube out of Randall's shaking hand. Jeff's shin flew upwards and caught him in the groin, but before he could fall to the ground, Jeff swung the briefcase at Randall's head. There was a brief sound of impact, followed by Randall's head hitting the pavement.

Jeff dropped the briefcase, pocketed the cube, and then grabbed a second pistol from his pocket with his right hand. Just then, two men ran in from the alleyway behind Randall. They were both bearing rifles. From the look of it, they were upgraded B.A.R.'s…very old guns.

Jeff brought the dual pistols up into view and simultaneously squeezed the triggers. The man staggered back against a brick wall, clutching his chest. The red began to spread throughout his white shirt. It reminded Jeff of blood spreading through the snow. Jeff turned and placed a round into the second man's forehead.

Suddenly, men rushed in from all sides and surrounded Jeff. Boy, Randall wasn't kidding. Jeff could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. A gang member made his move first. He moved forward and swung his metal bar at Jeff's head. He easily missed, and for that mistake, he received four rounds through his gut.

Another man aimed at Jeff with a Semi automatic and fired. Jeff dove down and the rounds flew into another man on the opposite side. Jeff jumped up again, he had dropped his pistols. He didn't even bother to reload. There were other good weapons he could use right here. Jeff wrenched the Semi automatic from the man's grip and shot him in the neck. He turned around and sidestepped. The man who dove at him stumbled right by him and Jeff quickly put the gun to the man's head and let loose.

He paused to survey how many were left.

But that was his mistake. Someone dove at him from behind and they both landed on the ground. Jeff's weapon flew from his hand. He wrestled with the man, and a few seconds later, Jeff jumped up, holding a knife covered in a crimson liquid. Somehow, it reminded him of his butter knife after he had pulled it out of the jar of jam at breakfast.

Two more tried to attack him by fists. Apparently, they liked to rough it out. Too bad for them, so did Jeff. He avoided a blow to the head, and jammed the knife into a man's thigh. He screamed as Jeff pulled it out again, and slashed him across the throat. Just then, he felt something constricting against his throat. He tried to jerk his head around, but he felt someone punch him in the ribs—hard.

He gritted his teeth, trying to shake off the pain but he had dropped his knife. A gang member stepped forward and repeatedly punched him in the stomach. Jeff swore, but he couldn't double over. The chain around his neck made him stand erect, meanwhile ever tightening. With one hand, he gripped the chain, trying to pull it off. With his remaining hand, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his lucky charm—his lighter.

Jeff didn't smoke, but it was amazing how useful a lighter could be…during a bar fight, for instance. He flicked it once and thrust the open flame out behind him. He heard the man scream and loosen his grip. He felt heat on his back. Jeff quickly grabbed the chain from his neck and turned around. The man was completely engulfed in flame. Jeff swung the chain around the palm of his hand and whipped it across the man's agonized face. Jeff's hand searched the ground for a second or two and soon came up with a fully loaded pistol.

"I'll put you out of your misery, bitch," Jeff muttered as he took aim and squeezed the trigger. At point blank, the blood splattered against the wall behind. A small shower of red.

He turned around and quickly slammed his fist into a man's face. He quickly dropped like a stone. Jeff looked at the man's face and saw the chain imprint on his cheek. These gang members attack pretty slow. He strolled forward as the last gang member tried to back off. After a few steps, the man brought his hands forward from behind his back. In one hand, he held the Semi Automatic that Jeff had lost.

Jeff could always shoot the man, but hell, his ring leader was the one who had sent him to Reach, the place where it all began. If it wasn't for Dr. Halsey and her blasted Spartan Program, he would have been a normal citizen. He would have lived a happy life…but no, he was out on the streets. He was killing people for a living. He was killing for money. He was killing for revenge. A quick shot to the head was too good for a dirty bastard who was in contact with Randall Sanderson. But if he lunged forward, it would be all over. The gang member would quickly pull the trigger. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to die just for someone you hate?

"Think of Jen," a voice rang in his head.

"Screw those ONI bastards," Jeff said, taking part in another mental conversation once again.

"Think of your true feelings, Jeff."

"You want to know my true feelings? I'll tell you! I'm going to tear this son of a bitch apart!" Jeff screamed out loud. With that he lunged for the man. He was halfway there. Jeff waited for the loud cackle of gunfire and the searing pain. But it never came. All he heard was a more than satisfying click! Jeff opened his eyes and smiled his famous grin. He stopped running and slowed down to a slow stroll. He was enjoying every second of this. Sweet revenge.

The gang member's face had a look of deep worry. He was desperate as Jeff was only two metres away from him. He took aim once more and squeezed the trigger again and again only to be rewarded with that sweet sound. Jeff grabbed the gun and pulled it from his hand. He bludgeoned the man's face with the butt of the gun. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a wall. Next, Jeff bent down and retrieved a BAR. He walked over to the man and pulled him to his feet. With frightening speed, he slammed the barrel of the rifle into the man's mouth. Before the man could react, Jeff pulled the trigger. The rounds tore out through the back of his head. Blood painted the brick wall and bits of bone and brain lay by a deep pool of blood. Jeff threw the rifle away and started to walk to the briefcase.

He heard a sound of rustling and turned around. A gang member had a pistol trained on Jeff's head, and Jeff had no weapon to defend himself with. And there was no such luck as running out of ammo this time. He was about to raise his arms in surrender, but a split second later. He heard gunfire and he saw the man being literally torn apart. He gazed at the corpse on the ground. His face was full of blood and was horribly mutilated. The corpse looked like a large dog or wild animal of some sort had just been chewing on it.

Jeff glanced up and saw Dave give him the "okay" signal. He mouthed back "thank you." His eye flitted to the side and fell upon Randall. He was standing up, holding a pistol. Jeff still didn't find himself a gun. He began to walk forward.

"Stay back or I'll shoot!" Randall yelled, raising the gun.

"Yeah, yeah," Jeff muttered. Without a warning, he darted forward and grabbed the pistol with both hands. Randall, acting upon instinct, pulled the trigger. Jeff, luckily, was out of harm's path, and he wrenched the pistol from Randall's grip and flung it aside. Randall tried to grab Jeff, but Jeff kneed him in the gut. Randall quickly recovered, and head butted Jeff, and they both tumbled to the ground. They exchanged blows for while, until Jeff ended up on top. His hand shot out and landed on Randall's throat. His digits came together and his free hand found the discarded pistol. Randall twisted around, but Jeff took advantage and shot him in the leg. He screamed and fell back. Randall tried to scramble up, but his leg gave away. Jeff approached him with a sullen face.

"Randall, Randall, Randall," Jeff said slowly. "You don't know how much I hated to go back there. And to make matters worse, you had me stay there. But for what purpose? You know, you almost make me hate myself for doing this. But only 'almost'. Then, when I think of what you did, I forget that all over again. So here we are."

"Jeff, listen, Jeff! I-I didn't do it for a reason. You gotta listen to me, it wasn't my decision," Randall started to stammer.

"No no, you listen. You are going to die, my friend. I hate your guts. And remember that when you go to hell," Jeff raised the pistol and pointed it at Randall's head. The sunglasses fell away, revealing his eyes. They were wide with fear. Somehow, this pleased Jeff greatly. And then he squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew out of the barrel and entered through Randall's forehead. It stayed there, lodged midway in his brain.

-! I hinted that the data cube was actually only a setup in the original, which is sort of why Sanderson was dropped from the final version. But during the original run, I completely went around that simply because I wanted to have more action scenes. However, when I was going back over chapter 10 in the rewrite, I cut out this final fight but kept it on a separate document. I think there was a point when I actually still wanted to incorporate it in.

Jeff crawled over to the briefcase and stood up. Ten million dollars and his memory cube. He was a rich man now. Dave and his men met up with him in the streets, and they walked back with him to the pub—eager to spend their new found wealth.

-! That was a long, long chapter to go through. The kill count must be way up there now.

Chapter 11

June 15th 2552. New Vancouver. Present day.

Fifteen years—fifteen long years had past. Jeff had been quite inactive for his job. He didn't need anymore money just yet. He had more than 5 million left and led a very happy life.

Until, one day, the buzzer of his apartment rang. Jeff swore, and tumbled out of his bed. And he landed on something…rather unpleasant. The edge of a briefcase dug into his back. Jeff stood up and kicked the case of his rifle. He heard the buzzer once more and realized that he had forgotten that someone was at the door.

"Blast it, just wait. I'm coming," Jeff yelled. He lifted up one of his pillows, to find that his pistol was missing. It must've fallen behind his bed. He reached down and quickly and withdrew. He ran to the door and set the pistol down on a table beside him. He opened the door and laid eyes on a familiar face. He just couldn't quite picture it.

"Hello, Jeff," the woman said with a smile. She had blonde hair and she looked like she was around 30.

"And a fine hello to you, ma'am. Uh, do I know you?"

"Oh don't tell me that fifteen years have really gotten into your memory."

Jeff stilled looked blank. But the truth was that the past fifteen years had really gotten to his memory. He never really used his skills to kill any more. He was just a civilian now. But something inside him longed for something—something big.

The woman sighed. "Do you remember Reach?"

"Wait a minute, Jen? It—it is you!" Jeff's smile faded. "How did you find me?"

"Well, I remember you telling me that you would be here."

"Ah, yes," Jeff said. He looked at himself and blushed. He was still in his boxers. "I'll be out shortly."

First, he walked to the table and snatched up his pistol. Then he went to his room. A few minutes later, he strolled out to the kitchen.

"Want something to eat, coffee, perhaps?"

"No thanks. I ate before I came," Jen said, looking around the apartment.

"You sure are an early riser," Jeff said, taking out his coffee machine.

"Yeah, that's what you get for being a marine. And one more thing—it's 11:00 already."

Jeff checked his watched and yawned. He gave a curt nod and turned back to the frying pan. "So, how long are you guys touring the city?"

"What are you talking about? I've finished my training on Reach quite a long time ago. It's kind of like a little break for us after some of the fighting."

"I guess you're here for the long stay, then."

"I guess so. I don't have anywhere else to go."

"How about all your buddies in the Marines?"

"They're all off visiting relatives."

"Do you have somewhere to stay for the night?"

"I could always find a hotel."

"That's not necessary. If you want, you could stay here. I've got extra room," Jeff said, motioning to the hallway.

"That would be great," Jen said, sitting down on the couch. "So, how has life been treating you?"

"It's been quite good, actually—ever since that Reach episode. Not very eventful, though. How's the news at the frontlines?"

"It's still a hard fight. Things don't look so good for the UNSC, I'd almost hate to say. Some have even tried to leave to join the Rebels. But I heard that some day soon, the marines are going to crack down on the Rebel activity and arrest them all."

Jeff turned to face her upon hearing this. "You mean all the Rebels?"

"That's what I said."

Jeff rubbed his chin thoughtfully and spoke, "Then that reminds me. I'll be going on a little business trip soon."

"A business trip? I thought you were a hired assassin."

"Yes, I am. But if you know that, why would you want to come and see me now?"

"Well, Jeff, it's something to do," Jen said with a playful grin.

"If you say so. And what of the Spartans?"

"They're still fighting as well."

"Figures," Jeff muttered. "Did you ever consider me as a dangerous threat, Jen?"

"After what you did to all those marines back at Reach, I have a big reason to believe so. But I don't know, maybe you have a chance to be a respectable soldier. You know, put your skills to a good use. Fight the Covenant."

Jeff shook his head quite violently. "Sorry, Jen, but I really don't plan on being a big part of the UNSC. Or the Rebels, in that matter."

"I see you have a great motive in life," Jen said.

"I see you haven't lost your sense of sarcasm. Is it your first time here?"

"I believe so."

"Come on, then. I'll show you around the city. I'll be out in a bit," Jeff turned around and walked to his room.

Silently, Jen followed along behind. Through a gap in the door, she watched Jeff slide a fresh clip into a pistol and place it into the inside pocket of his coat. He picked out something most peculiar too. A memory cube. And lastly, he pulled a lighter out of his pocket. He grinned and threw it into the air, catching it with two fingers. Jeff strolled towards the door and met up with Jen.

Over the next few days, he spent his time with Jen, getting to know her, and she getting to know him. But of course, there wasn't much history to tell about Jeff. One afternoon, Jeff came out of his room and spoke to Jen.

"I've got to go on that business trip I told you about, so I'll be gone for a little bit. Think you can hold the fort?"

"Sure, but where are you going?"

"That's—confidential," Jeff said, turning towards the door. Unmistakably, she saw the bulge in Jeff's pocket—his pistol. But that didn't mean anything. He took his pistol everywhere he went.

Jeff made his way to the nearest UNSC Air base. Luckily, they didn't keep the base too guarded because Earth wasn't a combat zone. Jeff took out a pair of bolt cutters and got to work on the chain-linked fence. He worked quickly, and after a few minutes, he was inside the perimeter. He ran to the nearest marine guard and tapped him on the shoulder. Just as the marine turned around, Jeff landed a blow to the marine's face. The marine staggered backwards, turned, and hit his forehead on a metal section of a pelican.

A few minutes later, Jeff was airborne and out of the city—out of Earth's atmosphere. He flew around for a little bit, until he saw his destination. An asteroid field had formed there during 2006 CE (-! Heyo!), he was told. He moved through the asteroids with a small smile on his face. Jeff flew up to a peculiar looking asteroid and tried to make contact there.

"Asteroid base, come in," Jeff said. Suddenly, on a display panel to his right, a face shown through.

"State your business," the man said.

"I'm here to see your leader. He's an old friend of mine."

"You're the UNSC, we don't want any business with you."

"Ah, but I have some very important information—about the UNSC. And I'm not part of the UNSC either."

"We should blow you to smithereens right now, but our leader is actually telling you to come in. Please fly through the shuttle doors."

Jeff stepped out of the Pelican. A group of men surrounded him and trained their rifles on him. He raised his hands slowly, and then a man stepped out from the others.

He wore a black coat. His black hair had been slicked back and he had a cold expression to his face. Jeff's face lit up in his usually warm expression.

"Steve, it's good to see you!"

The man stared at him and gasped, "Jeff…Benson? You're here? I thought you'd been kidnapped! A child abduction case."

"Well, you thought wrong. Here I am. Real as ever."

Steve directed the men to lower their rifles. "So what are you doing here—in a UNSC ship?"

"Don't let the Pelican fool you. I had to knock some guy out for it, and then fly it out of the Air base. I need some more of those specially crafted rounds of yours."

"Hmm. Did you bring any money with you?"

"Oh hell yeah! You know, we haven't seen each other for years. Did I tell you, I stricken rich?"

"Oh? Well, that's good. They'll be made by tonight. Come and dine with me."

Steve motioned for Jeff to sit in a chair. Music played softly in the background. He eyed the food. Even if they were Rebels, the scoff looked delicious.

A man came around and poured Steve and Jeff a glass of wine. Finally, Steve spoke up.

"I haven't seen you for numerous years. Tell me, have you got yourself a girl and settled down yet?"

"Maybe, it's hard to tell."

"Ah, I expect so, since you are an assassin. So, what about the information you have?"

"Well, from what I've heard, the UNSC is planning an attack on you sometime. Wait, not just you. All the Rebels in every system that they can find."

Steve set down his glass and stared at him. "Where did you find this information?"

"Someone told me."

"Can you explain who this someone is?"

Jeff looked nervous and leaned forward. "All I can say is, a marine."

"A marine? Jesus, Jeff. You said you never wanted to have anything to do with the UNSC. And here you are, talking and exchanging with—with our enemy!"

"Who's enemy? Did I ever tell you, Steve, I never was a Rebel? Plus, she's someone I can trust…I hope," Jeff said, frustration creeping into his voice.

"A female marine? Oh boy, now there's something. Sleeping with the enemy!"

Jeff stood up and slammed his fists into the table. "Now you're going too far. A little piece of information, and now what?"

Just then, a man entered the room and spoke to Steve.

"So, you're right, Jeff. Phil has just told me that there are a few pelicans full of Marine inbound to our location."

"And what are you going to do?"

"If they're bent on taking us out, they're sadly mistaken. Phil, tell everyone to resort to battle stations."

The man—Phil, grinned and ran out of the room. Steve stood up and took a swig from his glass.

"Come on, Jeff. Don't you want to watch the spectacle?"

"I'll be right up, Steve," Jeff said, picking up the wine bottle.

Steve and Jeff sat up in the control room that overlooked the shuttle bay. There was a deck that ran all around the bay—with mounted machine gun turrets. It was going to be one hell of a fight for the marines to win. A beep sounded and there was an Admiral's face on the display panel.

"Rebel leader, I am Admiral Wilks, and y'all are under arrest. Throw down your weapons or prepare to be defeated," the Admiral said in his Texan drawl.

"Admiral, I am Steve Blackmoore. If you think that I will allow myself and base to be taken over by the UNSC, you are sadly mistaken," Steve paused and looked at Jeff. He had a twinkle to his eye. He winked once, and without a warning, he grabbed Jeff by the arm and pushed him in front of the screen and forced his arms behind him.

"Just play along, Jeff," Steve whispered. Turning back to the screen, he announced, "Admiral, as you see, we have a civilian hostage. It would be a shame to see the UNSC kill a good citizen."

"Damnit, you certainly have a way with people. (-! Worst Admiral ever.) Prepare to be boarded, Steve. And may the best man win," the Admiral cut off the link.

The first three Pelicans glided through the shuttle bay. And as soon as the first marine jumped out, the Rebels opened fire with their turrets. Gunfire rained down on the marines. In fact, it was just like rain. There was no way to escape it. Jeff watched the marines being mowed down like—like nothing! Some tried to hide behind steel crates, but the rounds were just too powerful. They flew right through the crates…shattering the wooden ones too. Once every marine had been cut down, the Admiral came on again.

"Well, Steve. You've won round one. I am going to take you down," the Admiral spat.

Jeff stared at the display. He saw something in the background that was quite unpleasant, the orange glimmer of a visor. Spartans were coming.

"Jesus Christ," Jeff stammered as soon as the Admiral ended the conversation.

"What's wrong?"

"Spartans," Jeff slumped down in his seat.

"What's wrong with Spartans?"

"Their armour is protective against bullets. They've taken Covenant technology! It's game over."

Steve was an intelligent man. He looked thoughtful. "They can survive hits from Plasma and bullets, aye? But nobody, I repeat, nobody, can withstand pure fire. Or Zero Gee when I'm done with them," he said with a maniac grin.

Jeff stood, frozen in place. Steve was planning to blow the whole shuttle bay off the base! He watched as Steve ordered his men to abandon the gun turrets and bring various explosives to the shuttle bay—one shot to a crate would ignite the whole place.

The bay doors opened, and a two pelicans slowly drifted through. The green armoured warriors jumped out, weapons rose.

Jeff could see the slight twitch of Steve's lips as he hefted his sniper rifle—not the standard military issue, though.

Suddenly, a thought hit him hard. If the Spartans were killed, who would win the Covenant war? The marines certainly weren't enough. Just before Steve pulled the trigger, Jeff's arm shot out and pushed the barrel out of line.

The round flew out and hit a Spartan in the shoulder instead of a barrel. Yellow lines wavered over the armour like electricity.

Steve withdrew and looked at Jeff angrily.

"I can't let you do it, Steve. They are the only hope to defeating the Covenant!"

"Well I can't help that, can I," Steve muttered. "I'd almost hate to do this to you, but it's for your own good. I can't have you muddling around in my affairs. If I want those bastards dead, I'll have them dead. I don't need a personal advisor."

"Then you'll forgive for this, then," Jeff said with a cold voice. Before Steve caught on, Jeff ran at him and tackled him by the waist. They both tumbled to the ground; the rifle falling inches away from Steve's curled up fist. Jeff grabbed Steve by the collar of his white shirt and repeatedly ran his fist into Steve's forehead. Catching him by surprise, Steve whipped out his free hand and caught Jeff in the cheek, then, his second fist to Jeff's gut. Jeff exhaled sharply—winded by the blow. Steve scrambled up and kicked Jeff in the face with the heel of his shoe. Jeff swore and fell to the ground. With one hand, he grabbed a loose chair and hurled it at Steve. It literally clobbered him. Steve ran to a doorway and found a long chain. He wrapped the end of it around his fist, and used the rest of it as a whip.

Jeff sighed and reached for his pistol. He felt around for a few seconds and froze. It had probably fallen out when he tackled Steve.

"Right," Jeff said, just before he ran out the opposite door—onto the catwalk. Just then, he heard a rifle fire and he dove to the ground. The Spartans were firing at him! His hand fell across something rather pleasant—a metal bar. He snatched it up and got to his feet. Steve was slowly walking to him, his chain-whip ready. Jeff came into range, and Steve lashed out with his chain. Jeff easily countered the attack, but the chain wrapped around the bar. They both pulled at the same time, but it was a hopeless game of tug o' war. Jeff pulled the bar toward him once more and grabbed the mid section of the chain. He then used it to whip out at Steve. When Steve caught the bar in one hand, Jeff raised an eyebrow, and quickly turned to the railing. There, he tried to tie the chain there. But Steve got to him first. He struck Jeff in the back with a sharp blow with the metal bar. Jeff fell to the catwalk deck. Steve reached inside his jacket and pulled out his own pistol.

-! The rewritten chapter 11 features what went into this scene. I wanted to have a fight scene in an industrial setting and that's pretty much that.

Jeff's foot shot out and hit Steve's shin. He dropped to the deck, and Jeff jumped on top of him once more. He grabbed the chain out of Steve's hand and quickly wrapped it around Steve's neck and pulled. Steve gave a muffled yelp and elbowed Jeff hard in the stomach. Steve whirled around and backhanded Jeff in the face. Next, he head butted him so Jeff fell to the floor. Jeff reached out behind him and found Steve's pistol. He sprang up, and Steve lunged at him. Jeff didn't have any time to thumb the safety and fire. They wrestled for control of the gun, while throwing punches and kicks. Jeff shoved the pistol downwards and grabbed hold of Steve's face. Steve tried to grab Jeff's arm, but he couldn't pull it off. Jeff drove his arm forward and rammed the back of Steve's head into a support pole the connected the catwalk to the ceiling. Steve loosened his grip on the pistol, and Jeff wrenched it free. He stepped back and raised it up, only for it to be kicked out of his hand. It clattered on the deck once more.

Steve got Jeff into a headlock, and smashed his fist into Jeff's head. Next, he threw him down and brutally kicked him in the side. Jeff scrambled away and found useful tool—a metal stick. It was flat and looked quite sharp on the edges. He took an overhead swing at Steve, but he took a step back and picked up the original metal bar. Steve took a sideswipe at Jeff's head and Jeff raised his "blade" to protect his head. They duelled with their weapons, dancing all over the deck, taking swings and slashes at each other. Steve stuck his blade out, hoping to drive it right through Jeff, but it was countered with a circular swing, forcing the bar to the side. Jeff quickly took this opportunity and took another overhead swipe and they locked up their weapons, trying to force each other off balance.

"Damnit, Jeff. Why don't you just return to Earth?"

"Because, I need those rounds of yours."

-! Man I fucked that one up. I didn't even mention that the first time I don't think.

"Hell, you're not getting any of 'em," Steve spat.

Jeff pushed forward and Steve staggered away. Jeff kicked him in the back and brought his blade up, but suddenly, Steve whipped his bar across Jeff's face, leaving a nasty gash. Then, Steve slammed the bar into Jeff's leg. He fell to the ground, winded.

He looked at Steve with defeat in his eyes. But Steve had no means of mercy left in him. He threw his bar aside and pulled out a switch blade.

"It ends now, Jeff. You didn't have to choose this way," Steve said, pulling out the blade, slowly moving towards him.

"No, Steve. You don't have to do this," Jeff said, his hand slowly sneaking towards his blade.

"Too bad, Jeff. It was nice knowing you," Steve said, raising the blade.

Before he could strike, Jeff grabbed hold of the blade and swung it at Steve. He jumped back, but Jeff sprang up. And he did the possibly—the stupidest thing ever in his life. He grabbed Steve's blade with his bare hand without realizing it—his bare hands! No gloves to protect them. Steve pulled the knife back, and Jeff screamed in agony. He caught a quick look at his hand. The blade had torn through the flesh, and the blood dripped to the deck.

"Bastard," Jeff whispered. He lunged forward, into a shocked Steve. He slammed the tip of the blade into Steve's forehead, drawing blood. Steve slumped down against the railing, and Jeff repeatedly slammed the blade into Steve's head. Steve reached a hand out to plead for mercy, but Jeff just trod on his fingers. He kicked Steve in the face and ran over to Steve's fallen pistol. He walked right up to Steve and sighed. Without a second thought, Jeff squeezed the trigger—three times. Steve slumped dead, blood pouring out of his mouth and deep bloody gashes in his head. He walked back down to the Spartans, for he had nowhere else to go. He limped over to the waiting pelicans, gripping the metal instrument tightly in one hand—the injured hand. The blood ran down the rusty metal and dripped on the ground. His leg hurt like hell, but he could manage.

The Spartans surrounded him and trained their weapons on him.

"Rebel, you're under arrest," one of them spoke out.

"Who're you calling a Rebel? I'm no Rebel," Jeff twisted his face in pain.

"Wait, he's not a Rebel," a familiar voice sounded.

Jeff looked up. They all looked the same to him.

"Jeff Benson, you're under arrest for mingling with these pirates," John commanded, motioning for one of the other Spartans to arrest him.

"So, what were you doing in the base?" a female voice said through a visor in front of Jeff.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Jeff said, wincing slightly as he took a look at his hand.

"Here, let me take a look at that," the Spartan said leaning backwards to grab a medical kit off a hook.

Jeff pulled away. "No, it's fine. I don't trust you Spartans anyway," he said bitterly, turning to face a wall.

"God damnit, do I look like I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Well, I have to say, no. But—"

"Then hold still, or at least let me examine your wound," the Spartan said, reaching forward.

"Oh fine," Jeff held out his hand. He couldn't put up a fight. He was dead tired. Maybe some medical attention would really do him some good.

The Spartan removed her helmet and released her hair from a bun. She sighed and added, "I hate those damn helmets. They just boggle one's vision. But the Doctor said that it's for our own protection. I just think it interferes with my vision, and it doesn't let people really see my face."

Jeff couldn't contain a smile. "Me and you—we think alike."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but how does it interfere with your vision?"

"I'm second best sniper to the Spartan team. Second to Linda, who never complains about anything."

"I can imagine," Jeff said, jolting from the pain in his hand. "Jesus, watch what you're doing! It stings!"

"What do you expect, Mr. Benson," the Spartan said wryly, "you've got rust in your wound. I've got to clean it out first, before I bandage it."

"Ah," Jeff leaned back and thought of Jen. He looked at the Spartan. Her hair was a dirty blonde, and her thin lips were tilted to a frown…even though her eyes seemed happy.

"You know, I don't know why they want to arrest you. You saved our lives, didn't you?"

"Yeah, that I did," Jeff muttered sadly, thinking of Steve.

"And you killed the Rebel leader, doing our job. You know, maybe you should join the Spartans—"

"No!" Jeff's sharp answer rang through the Pelican, and some of the Spartans stirred from their sleep. Even the Spartan in front of him seemed shocked. "Sorry about that, but no thanks. I have never planned on becoming like you and your team."

"But your skills would be a great addition to the team! And Dr. Wells, don't know if you've met her yet," the Spartan was again cut off.

"Yes…I have," Jeff tried to hide the bitter look on his face.

"Well, she's created a new method of augmentation. Just tell me if you want to join, then," the Spartan said, finishing off bandaging Jeff's palm. Next, she got to work on the gash situated on Jeff's face. "Ooh, that might leave a scar, I'm afraid. But I'll do my best to patch you up."

"I don't think I caught your name," Jeff said, flinching from the cloth that the Spartan rubbed across his forehead.

"You can just call me Brooke."

"Okay…Brooke," Jeff smiled at her.

-! This marks the introduction of Brooke Fields. She would later become Jeff's Spartan buddy. Jen couldn't be in this part of the story, so Brooke arrived to fill her shoes. Later on, when Wells, Brooke, and "The Project" became rolled into one, in the planned sequel 000 Reborn, Brooke needed a much larger role in the rewrite. Jen was too simple, there only to comfort Jeff (after he completed his murderous bouts, which she seemed totally okay with). Brooke was as deadly as Jeff as Operative 231 (something totally random I made up at four in the morning while finishing the new chapter 14), and the two became a team.

At this point, while I was watching Chuck, I liked the dynamic between Chuck and his partner Sarah, and they introduced an element in the Pilot episode I really liked. Sarah was a dangerous killer, and had a deadly secret they threw in at the end of the episode. This was of course debunked by episode two and settled much too quickly, but the idea of having a partner slash friend who is just as likely to kill you as well as your enemies stuck with me. In the rewrite, right from the get-go, she was in charge. Jeff was just along for the ride. (I would like to note, Brooke was not modeled after the beautiful and very talented Yvonne Strahovsky.)

In return, she smiled back.

Jeff sat in a chair at the UNSC Air base. He was being charged with assault against a marine. Also, they were nailing him for stealing one of their pelicans. Jeff dug into his wallet and pulled out enough money to bail him out.

-! Apparently when I wrote this I had no concept of high treason.

Out on the street, he supposed that he had to walk home. Unexpectedly, Jen pulled up in his car. He looked ashamed, but covered up with a little grin.

"Hi, Jen," Jeff waved.

"Just get into the car. Tell me the details back at your apartment."

While they were driving back, the shock suddenly hit Jeff like a lightning bolt. Only now he realized that he had murdered his only best friend.

"Oh dear god, why?" Jeff murmured and ran a finger over the scar on his forehead.

"What's wrong?"

"I killed him. I had to," Jeff replied with a blank stare.

-! That was a really long chapter too. Hard to read through. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all.

Chapter 12

June 30th, 2552. New Vancouver, Present day

Jeff awoke to the smell of sausages, pancakes and other delectable foods.

Breakfast.

"Unnghh…" he mumbled. Jeff sat up. "Must have been some hangover."

He climbed out of bed and got dressed. In his kitchen, he found Jen, sitting at the table. She was contentedly reading the newspaper and sipping coffee from a fairly large mug.

"Something to eat?" Jen asked, folding up the paper.

"Hmm? No thanks, I'll pass," Jeff replied almost as if he were a zombie. Though, he staggered to his toaster and started it up.

"So what's up?" Jen looked at him with concerned eyes.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Everything's fine."

"I know you're still getting over the event at the Rebel base. But if you keep this up, you'll be needing therapy, Jeff."

"Therapy? I'd like it with butter, please," Jeff said, apparently not paying attention. His eyes stared at a wall, with a distant far out look. Jen sighed upon seeing this.

In Jeff's mind, he was taking part in another of his famous mental conversations.

"You'll get over it, Jeff. It's only guilt."

He was quite surprised to hear this—especially because it was coming from his "conscience". But was he really pure evil? What about the positive side of him. There was always the 'Angel' and the 'Devil' of a person. Had his been destroyed at Reach? When he'd learned to hate those bastards? He'd never know.

"Yes, guilt. But it's not the same kind of guilt as a little white lie. No, I don't expect you to understand. See, you've never killed a good friend." Jeff's devil spoke up.

Jeff decided to jump in. Unfortunately, he spoke aloud. "Oh come now, usually, it's the Angel battling against the Devil. What of myself? It's the Devil sticking up for me, fighting against my conscience. And what of my Angel?"

Jen shot him such a look upon hearing this, but he ignored it and continued bickering.

"Really, Jeff, inside you, you don't even care what happened to Steve. You never even talked of him your entire life after you escaped from Reach," his conscience said as a-matter-of-factly.

"What are you talking about? Did the fact, I never knew where he was until a few days ago get inside your head? And one more thing: inside me? Conscience, you are the inside of me."

A voice perked up from the back of his head. It sounded odd, and far away. The sound was distorted…almost like bad reception in a transmission. "Then how did you know he was a Rebel leader?"

Jeff was rendered speechless. But when he spoke up, he seemed quite angry. And again, he forgot that he was supposed to be thinking out his comebacks. "Why, you dirty…I oughta—well, I've got news for you. I do give a damn, all right? So get off my case, you f—"

"Jeff!" Jen looked at him sharply. "Watch it—your toast!"

The smell of burnt bread brought him back to reality. "Oop." Jeff shut off the small appliance and staggered to a chair and plopped himself down.

Jen gave him a smile encouraging smile. "I think you need one more day of rest. Don't worry, I'll make you breakfast," she said, almost motherly.

"It's all right, Jen. I'm fine. I just…need a whiff of fresh air."

"Hah. Do you think I'd let you out, after pulling a stunt like that? Knowing you, you might run off. No, you're staying here."

"Yes, dear," Jeff said half-heartedly.

She smiled at him, but she firmly pointed at the couch in his "rec room". He had no choice but to throw up his hands in defeat and stroll to the next room.

After that, they just sat there, watching the Visual Projector Unit whilst enjoying each other's company. They shared laughs and all that. It might have been one of the only rare times Jeff had felt…good. It was quite odd.

Later that night, Jen went to check on Jeff in his room. "So, how're you feeling?"

"Quite all right. You know, I'm not ill or anything. Just tired."

"Well, exhaustion is known to kill."

Jeff laughed out loud. He just didn't know why.

"It's not a laughing matter. I learned that in the marines."

He stood up. "You know, that's just downright weird. The marines are all about physical exertion and the like. In a field situation, there's no such thing as a 'break'."

"Oh? Why do you think there are so many marines, Mr. Wise-ass?"

Without thinking, he answered, "Because we still don't have enough to win the war." Jeff immediately wished he hadn't said that.

Jen seemed like she was about to slap him. "Why you pessimistic, scratched-up—"

"Who're you calling a 'scratched-up'? I'm in top physical condition—"

Without a warning, Jen's hand shot out and jabbed him in the side. He doubled over in pain. "Top physical condition? Hah!"

"Now that's not funny," Jeff held up a hand, his face still contorted with pain. He stood up to his full height. "Say, did you have any other lovers?"

"Lovers? Let's see…"

"None? What about in your Advanced Education Centre?"

"Well," Jen blushed. "There was one. But, I don't see him anymore. As it turns out, he was a criminal mastermind. He's in Prison now."

"Oh? What was his name?"

"Chris Duncan, but why would it concern you?"

In fact, the name brought up many…thoughts. "It's nothing. Err, it doesn't."

"Well, what about you?"

"What about me, what?"

Jen inched closer to him. "Did you have anyone?"

"No," Jeff said bluntly.

"No? But what about in your Education centre?"

"No, remember, I didn't go there. I was drafted as a Spartan. I received most of my education during the program," Jeff paused and they moved closer together. "But I do believe you're a first."

Jen smiled. "And have you ever received a kiss before?"

"That depends, I gave you one at Reach…" but Jeff didn't continue. Jen wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and their lips touched.

"You know, I never did thank you for letting me stay here," Jen said, pausing.

"It doesn't matter. I'm always happy to have company."

They kissed once again. This time, it was deep—very deep.

-! In case that didn't come out clearly… they got their fuck on. ;)

Jeff groaned and rolled over, only for his hand to feel…skin. And flesh. Jeff rolled back over and focussed his vision. In front of him was the naked form of Jen. Jeff looked away and crawled out of bed. He quickly found some clothes and pulled the covers over Jen.

Now, he must have been drunk…but he didn't feel sick or anything. But that was one night's memory he wouldn't try to suppress.

He walked out of the building and breathed in the warm summer air of the morning. The rising sun looked like a picture from one's vivid imagination. People were up and about, getting to work, going on walks…everything an average citizen did.

He was just going to go for a little run. Jeff had put a note on the table addressed to Jen. He clearly stated that he'd be back in time for lunch.

After his run, Jeff decided to go to a café and have a little breakfast. He ordered and went into the Men's Room. After he came out, he saw almost everyone in the café looking out the window. Jeff turned to the nearest spectator.

"What's all the fuss?"

"You haven't heard? Or seen? The Spartans are here for some unknown reason."

-! In the future, people talk like this. Count on it.

Jeff's throat tightened. The Spartans had arrived. Why? Obviously, it was just to garrison on Earth. Jeff reassured himself with that answer. But Jen had talked about that they were planning to go to New Mombassa, Africa. He caught a glimpse of the Pelican. Only six Spartans jumped out of the back. They seemed to be unarmed. One of them turned to look at the café window. Even through the orange-yellow visor, Jeff could swear the Spartan was looking directly at him. When they all started to walk towards the café, it was enough evidence that they were coming after him.

Jeff backed away with a horrified and shocked look on his face. Some of the people in the café looked at him.

"Are you all right?"

"He looks almost as if he's ready to faint."

"Here, buddy, sit down."

Jeff's eyes widened even more as the Spartans began to quicken their pace. They somehow saw him back off.

"Oh shit," Jeff whirled around and began to sprint out the back door.

"Oh my god, the Spartans are running right at us!" a cry came out from the crowd. Jeff heard glass breaking just as he slammed into the back door and came out into an alleyway. Without thinking, he just tore down the wet pavement. He could hear the quick steps of the Spartans not far behind him. His head whipped around and he caught a glimpse of the hulking green monsters.

He nearly tripped, but he regained his balance and kept on running. Jeff almost ran past what he was looking for. His shoes "skidded" on the pavement. He jumped on the ladder that was attached to the side of a building, and began to climb the rungs. Just as he reached the top, he felt the whole platform ladder lurch beneath him. He quickly grabbed onto the edge of the building. The ladders, along with its platforms, were ripped out from the wall. It was completely detached from the building.

Jeff emitted a very nasty swear word, but swung his legs over the side of the building and ran across the roof. He found a door and ran down the stairs. He was at a hotel…and it seemed to be a very nice one, at that. He ran out the lounge and through the grand double doors. He looked left and saw two Spartans coming right for him. Jeff took off once again down the sidewalk. He weaved through the crowds of people, but the Spartans were gaining. He looked ahead and almost fell over again.

Two more Spartans were blocking his path on the walk. Jeff performed quite a stupid stunt…he jumped headfirst into the traffic. Jeff ran around them, dodging them all, and he even jumped on top of the cars' hoods. The Spartans didn't have any trouble. They could jump like hell as well as run. Jeff ran straight into another alleyway, taking various twists and turns. After a while, he was sure he had lost them.

He leaned against a brick wall and caught his breath. His heart was pounding against his chest as if it were a loud rhythmic drum. He walked down the alleyway and stopped. It was a dead end. The only exit was blocked off by a steel barred fence. Jeff peered around, and saw another ladder that climbed up a building. But the only thing was that the ladder was too high to reach. Jeff spotted a large dumpster. And to his luck, it was on wheels. He pushed it under the ladder and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

He peeked out from behind a corner.

No Spartans.

Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. He was about to walk back to the dumpster, but he heard a clunk! Jeff turned around and came face to face with two Spartans. They towered over him, no doubt about that. He was a midget compared to these. They were easily over seven feet. Jeff whirled around and made a break for the dumpster. He dove at it, but in mid-air, he felt something tighten around his leg. His head slammed into the hard metal dumpster, and he fell to the ground. Jeff didn't have it in him to struggle. The run had tired him out. His head throbbed, and the next thing after that, his vision blurred and he just blacked out.

-! That wasn't bad. I used some of this in the rewritten chapter 11. That marked the end of the original storyline, I might say.

"Create a new record for Jeff Benson and get ready for his augmentations."

"Yes ma'am."

Jeff opened an eye and heard the swish of a door. He turned his head and saw a white lab coat.

"Oh shit," he thought once again. He had been stripped to only his boxers, and his limbs were held to the operating table by metal "clamps".

"Ah, Spartan 000, we meet again." An all too familiar voice said.

"Dr. Wells, it's good to see you, too," Jeff answered sarcastically with a disgusted look on his face.

"Well, you should have stayed on Reach. Now, we'll be forced to turn you into a Spartan."

"I wouldn't say 'forced'. You could always turn back."

"I don't think so. You'll wake up in a few weeks from now. You're going to be completely sedated during that time. We can't afford to halt the operation."

Jeff exploded. "A few weeks? What about—"

"Jen? She's going back to the frontlines in a week or so. Now, hold still."

Jeff looked at her with cruel eyes of glass. "You stupid bitch, you. I should have killed you back at Reach."

"Ah, but you didn't. Didn't you know I would be coming after you? Anyways, you can't deny the fact that you have a good heart at times. So, here I am, alive and well."

He didn't reply to that. "How do you know this isn't going to kill me?"

"Your chances are 8-2, your favour. But there's still a little chance you might," she paused, "slip."

Dr. Wells picked up a mask attached by a tube to a machine. She held it over his head, but he turned away from her. "Not being co-operative, are we?"

She sighed and set the mask down. Then, Dr. Wells found Jeff's pressure point and pushed down on it…hard. She quickly clapped the mask over his mouth and nose and turned the machine on.

Gas! It filled his lungs. He gagged, but nothing would stop it. His head lolled, and the last thing he saw was the bright light above him.

Chapter 13

-! As stated above, I had to rewrite 13, and now that I think about it, I changed 12 to match up with this just a little. In the original, I had no intentions of doing the Spartan storyline, until I realized that's what the story was called. Oops.

August 21st, 2552. New Vancouver, Present day

He rose slowly from the covers, the sunlight streaming into his face. Jeff stretched his arms over his head and yawned, but he immediately put them to his sides. They stung like hell—almost as if he'd been beaten up…twice…in one night, too.

Whatever it was, it wasn't a good feeling.

He began to stand up, but his knees buckled and weakly gave away, and he fell to the ground with a surprised grunt. Jeff had no leg strength to support himself. He crawled down the hallway with much effort and dragged himself up on his couch.

He gazed at his clock, and his eyes widened. It read 21st of August. He was asleep for three weeks? Impossible!

"I see you woke up, Jeff."

Jeff's neck screamed in protest, as his head swiveled to meet the voice. It was Wells.

"What's going on?" he seemed exhausted just to move his jaw.

Her lips parted in a small smile. "Apparently, it's checkmate, Jeff. We got you fair and square."

"Bullshit. You used Halsey's toys to play. And you know as well as I, that isn't fair."

The doctor laughed, and set her eyes on Jeff's eyes. "Fair, because I knew you could easily outwit them."

"Who—John? I would laugh right now, if it didn't hurt so much. It's anyone's guess that his head would explode from his knowledge if it weren't half metal," Jeff spat out.

"Bone grafts," she corrected, but continued, "and yet, you're so much more intelligent than any one of them. You've just let yourself," she paused, looking for the right word, "rot away."

"Well, get this: I'd rather live the good life, instead of fighting the good fight."

"For someone as talented as you, they'd be happy to use their skills."

"Me? Talented? Oh, you're right. I could learn to play the Cello!"

"Jeff," Wells voice cut through the sarcasm. "Let's be serious here."

"I am!" Jeff's eyes narrowed. "Seriously, you've wasted your time on me. I'm wasted talent, Doctor."

"Bullshit, Jeff," the doctor said quietly, "You know you're twice the man you used to be. The UNSC needs you."

He shook his head. "The mind's set. As much as I love my job, I don't want to kill Covies." Jeff's hand reached down under the cushions, and felt metal. "Now, please leave. And never come back," he added.

Wells cocked her head, and crossed her arms. "Do you know what makes you so unique, Jeff?"

Jeff's arm whipped out from under, with a black pistol gripped firmly in his hand. He stood him to the best of his ability. "Two strikes, doctor. So get the hell out of my flat."

She ignored him. "I'll tell you what makes you so unique. Go on. Go and shoot me."

He thumbed the safety and replied, "Gladly." He then proceeded to squeeze the trigger. Wells visibly flinched. But the bullet never came—Jeff never fired the gun. His arm began to shake uncontrollably, and the pistol clattered to the floor.

The doctor smoothed her lab coat, and straightened out her hair.

"I must tell you now, Jeff, you're different than the other Spartans. We thought of your defiance, and I created something especially for you. To make this simple and easy to understand…after days of neurosurgery, done by myself, whenever you even think of harming a UNSC soldier or civilian, the signal, from your brain that tells your hand to pull the trigger, freezes." Her eyes locked onto his, and her gaze burned deep. "What can I say, Jeff? You're one of a kind."

He eased himself back onto the couch, and closed his eyes. Jeff's weary face had a look of resentment, and he blew an exasperated sigh. "It was fun while it lasted, Wells. Good game, I guess. Maybe next time, you'll play by my rules."

The doctor brushed a lock of hair off of her face. "Good. I'm glad you're beginning to understand how crucial you are. You're booked on the five o'clock to Reach. You'll begin your training two days from now," she paused, and then addressed him, "Spartan 000."

-! The trigger idea I had for a long time. It was used in something else sort of recently (maybe Alias?), so I got rid of the idea. But originally, when I wanted to do 000 Reborn, Jeff was supposed to kill himself in the end by overcoming the mental trigger.

Chapter 14

August 23rd, 2552. Reach, Present Day

"Is this it?" Jeff whispered to Doctor Wells, as he approached around thirty Spartans. "Whatever happened to the seventy that was here before I left?"

One armour-clad soldier stood up, and addressed Jeff. "The augmentation wiped most of us off."

Jeff nodded solemnly. "My God, that's terrible." He turned to Wells and made a face. "Damned miraculous hearing—it's eavesdropping if you ask me." Jeff smiled politely at the Spartan who had spoken, and began to walk faster.

"Losing nerve, are we?" Wells smiled mischievously at her newest subject.

"I can probably take one of them on in a fair fight… maybe three, if I had a rifle. But thirty angry men with 'roids?"

There was a huff of irritation from one of them. "There are females here, too."

"Really? I hadn't noticed—" Jeff was quickly dragged out of the room by Wells.

"You haven't even been here five minutes, and already you're picking fights?"

"Well, Doctor, I've been here ten minutes… You can say I don't like them."

"Jeff, you've only talked to two of them. Or even just remarked at them. You're going to spend the rest of your soldier career with them, whether you like it or not. Now, follow me." With that, she strode off.

"They're not normal, you know!" he called after her.

"I can't believe you did that, Jeff."

"Well, he was asking for it."

-! That was pretty awkward to write. The next bit is too, but the action sequence wasn't all bad.

Three Spartans were sprawled out beside Jeff in their quarters. They'd stripped out of their armour, and segments were scattered on racks along the walls of the room. The only reason Jeff was actually speaking with them was because he'd met them briefly on his short stay when he was six.

The door squeaked open, and another Spartan walked in.

"Jeff? I didn't see you come in."

He eyed the Spartan. "Sorry about me having to ask, but who're you?"

"Ah, that's right." The Spartan removed his helmet. "You haven't been with us all this time."

Jeff's face remained blank. "I'm going to have to say 'hit me'."

The Spartan snorted and rolled his eyes. "And they call you intelligent. It's Karl."

"It doesn't ring a bell anywhere, Karl, but what's up anyway?"

Karl laughed. "I hear you ran a show down by the obstacle course. What happened?"

The Spartan beside Jeff, who he'd met during the Spartan raid on the Rebel base named Brooke, spoke up.

"Jeff put one in the Drill Sergeant's leg and belted him in the face. It…wasn't pretty."

"Nobody orders me around." Jeff nodded, then added, "Unless there's money involved. If there's money, then I'm okay with working along with some bossy old…guy. I reassure myself that I'd kill the bastard afterwards, anyway."

He received concerned stares from the rest of the Spartans.

"That's kind of the thing with military. People tell you what to do." Karl sat down in a chair. "Whatever the case, I reckon the ONI docs are going to have a hard time re-aligning his jaw," he stated, "That's probably some considerable offense."

"Eh, say what you want, Karl, I never really liked the Sergeant anyway." The Spartan across from Jeff looked up from his book.

"Hold that thought, Dan. I'm gonna pop out for a bit of air. I'll be back in a sec." Jeff closed the door behind him.

He exhaled sharply, and glanced down the hallway. It was unbearable. He knew some of them as kids—normal human beings. Now? Now it seemed they were robots. Well, for the most part, they didn't seem real

"Making new friends, Jeff?" Wells strolled down the hallway, clutching a clipboard to her breast.

"No, and again, I say they're not normal. Hell, it's like talking to a computer…except computers are much more entertaining. Unless that suit of armour of theirs' can play music or show vids, I'm standing on my opinion."

"In a week's time, you're going to be receiving the same armour and deployed in the frontlines. Now, you'd better talk to your comrades and become friends because they have the liability to leave you to die in a combat situation." He noticed she emphasized the word 'friends'.

Jeff was silent for a moment. "That's disconcerting."

"That's correct. Now go back inside."

"I can't believe I died for this cruel torture."

"You didn't, remember? You're standing in front of me. Alive and healthy, I must add. You're far from dead."

"It sure doesn't feel it."

"Suck it up, and get back in there. Now!"

Jeff gave a huff of irritation, but obeyed reluctantly. A few hours later, spent by talking about virtually nothing, Jeff lay in his cot, nearly asleep. But he could feel someone watching him. Out of the corner of his vision, without making the slightest movement, he saw Brooke's eyes blaze out of the darkness, watching him, surveying him, examining him, and silently analyzing him!

Without making eye contact, he addressed her, "You know, I get a mite uncomfortable when people stare at me. Especially without blinking, too." When he rolled over, Brooke's gaze lowered, embarrassed.

"Sorry. I have…other things on my mind, Jeff."

He nodded, and stared at the ceiling. "Well, don't do it again." After a moment, he turned to face her. "Say, what do you guys do for fun over here?"

In the dark, Jeff's eyes saw her face brighten, and her lips parted into a smile. It quickly vanished, and she replied, "You'll see in the morning. Just get a good rest. You'll need it."

"Ah! That's right. I haven't had a night's rest since… way back when. Perhaps training won't be all that bad…finally some relaxation."

But it was not to be.

He had barely closed his eyes, when he was shook awake. Brooke stood over him with an expectant look on her face.

"What's the idea?" Jeff rubbed his eyes. "I just fell asleep!" He lowered his head. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

Brooke strode over to the window, and pulled open the blinds. Sunlight splashed across his face. He covered his eyes and groaned.

"You've slept 5 hours already, Jeff. That's more than enough sleep than you need."

"Are you kidding? I should get ten hours each day!"

"You're abandoning those lazy habits now. So. Get. Up." Brooke roughly hauled him to his feet. "I think you'll like today's exercise."

"Ah, more drill Sergeants to beat on?"

Brooke ignored his comment and disappeared down the hall.

Jeff sighed and flopped back down on his bed, and thought, "Training sucks."

"All right, Spartans!" The instructor blew a whistle, and waved his hand is a circular motion. When they had all settled down, the instructor began to speak. "The name of the game is 'Capture the Flag'."

There were some nods and grunts of approval. If they were any normal humans, they would cheer and whoop. Of course, if they were normal, they wouldn't have gone for a 2 hour run in the first place, either.

Jeff leaned on a mossy log, catching his breath and surveying his surroundings, as the instructor yammered away. They were in a muddy forest, which was fairly dark with sunrays beaming down.

"You're gonna get a rifle, and two hundred stun-rounds! Divide yourselves up into two teams, and get to fighting!"

The forest provided excellent cover. Its dense foliage could easily cover up one of those military Scorpion tanks. It should be easy taking the other team out.

Except, Jeff was folded into Red team, while the Spartans who'd distinguished themselves, more or less as team leaders, which were John, Linda, Kelly, Fred, Will… were all on the Blue team.

Jeff clutched the rifle to his heart, and inhaled. Brooke stepped under a low branch, her rifle at the ready, and tapped his shoulder, then motioned to the right. He slid a magazine into his rifle, and pulled back the bolt. They were using semi-automatic carbines—the training weaponry used by new marine recruits.

The plan was to leave Dan's squad hidden to keep watch over the Red team's flag. Karl's squad would make a fast run through the centre of the forest and take the large hill overlooking the forest. It was right about 30 feet tall. And the rest of the Spartans would follow Jeff in an offensive around the right side.

The four Spartans met in the clearing. Dan and Karl both wore military fatigues, and the standard marine bucket hats. The two had their rifles slung over their shoulders, and were sitting on a log, listening for the instructor's whistle.

Karl's face had a stern look to it—almost like a school master. His cold, glassy blue eyes matched with his hair—tufts of messily combed dirty blond stuck out, matted to his forehead. He stretched out his legs, as he was about to do some serious running.

Dan was nearly a head shorter than Karl, and his hair was a light hazel colour. In contrast to Karl, his face looked much warmer. Warmer, but still not the nicest bloke you'll ever meet. A closer look revealed the eyes of a man on the edge. A streak of yellow could be seen in his eyes, like two chipped marbles. His eyes shifted around nervously, as he toyed with his rifle.

"No doubt those guys have already heard our plan," Jeff muttered. "Well, come on. We'll never win this thing by sitting around."

Karl waved his hand in a circular motion, and six Spartans trotted out of the bush. He nodded to Jeff, then began to run to the hill. Dan jumped back behind a clump of bush, and gave Jeff a thumbs up.

Brooke and the Spartans under his command started off, picking a route around the hill.

Hell, it was probably the worst plan ever used. But it was only training, right? The most horrible thing that could happen was getting a nasty zap and a moment of disorientation after a hit from a stun-round.

They'd been running for over ten minutes. From Jeff's calculations, they must have at least covered a few klicks at least. He was nearly dead on his feet. They were just rounding the hill, which must've taken Karl and his crew around the less time to get to, as they cut straight through the forest. Damn, it was one gigantic piece of green.

"Stop here," Jeff ordered, holding up a hand. "If we're going the wrong way, the other team could be already at our main base. We'll establish a rally point here, and send out a few assault teams at a time, just in case." His head snapped up, and he glanced around. "Hold here. I heard something…" With that, he brought his rifle to bear, and silently moved off into the bush.

Jeff crouched behind a large tree trunk. He leaned to the left, and peeked out. He saw a lone Spartan walking down a beaten path. Perfect. A small grin tugged at his mouth, and he raised his carbine.

Just has he squeezed the trigger, he heard a loud click! The Spartan below stopped dead in his tracks, but didn't look towards Jeff's position. Maybe he thought it was an animal.

"Damn, damn…" Jeff ripped the magazine from the weapon, and tapped it against the palm of his hand as silently as he could muster. He slid it back into the rifle, and pulled the bolt back. This time it sounded right.

Jeff stared down the iron sights of his carbine to take aim at the Spartan. But he was nowhere to be seen. Jeff had only taken his eyes off of him for a second! And if he did see Jeff, the Spartan would have already returned fire… Something was definitely up.

Suddenly, the foliage behind Jeff rustled. Before he could turn around and identify what it was, something shot out, collided with Jeff and pinned him to the ground. He didn't even have time to raise his rifle, as it already had its hands around Jeff's neck.

-! Somebody's always choking him like a bitch. I have just realised this. Then again, it was a major feature in the rewrite. Wink.

Chapter 15

His lungs burned, and he gasped for air—but the restricting hands clamped around his neck like a vise grip were unforgiving.

If I believed in God, that's who I'd be praying to—like, right now, Jeff thought with much amusement. He banished the thought, and continued to struggle with his attacker. The lack of oxygen was exhausting him, and he felt his limbs turn to jelly. He tried to pry the hands of steel off of his neck, but it was no use. His vision was starting to darken.

-! Since 14 of the rewrite ended on this image of a powerful being slowly strangling him, only instead with Brooke, I wanted to come back to this in 15.

Even if there was no God in his little world, there was always the next best thing—a miracle. And that's maybe just what happened. Out of the corner of his eye, a figure moved behind his aggressor. Jeff's attacker whirled around, his fingers still on Jeff's almost-crushed windpipe. But Ii was too late—there was the pulpy sound of a blow landing, and air flowed into Jeff's chest. He inhaled deeply, rapidly exhaling, looking forward to the next gulp of precious fresh air. He glanced upwards—and his miracle was none other than Brooke.

There was a groan, and Jeff remembered that his attacker was still beside him, just waking from an intense strike. He jumped upright, and delivered a nasty kick in the target's side, flipping him over.

"John!" he exclaimed with a slight snarl. Jeff nodded thanks to Brooke, who had already removed a side-arm from its holster. "Knock him out once again, so we can drag his ass back to camp."

Brooke nodded, taking in his suggestion—the obvious suggestion. She ejected the magazine. Jeff got a quick look at it, as she reached into her bandoleer for another. An incredulous look crossed his face.

"Are those—are those live rounds?"

"I—" Brooke shot him a look, and leveled the handgun at the back of 117's head.

-! Right from the get-go. She was non-conformist. But she's changed. Sort of.

There was a rustle in the brush, and Jeff turned to her and whispered, "Don't look now, but it seems that the armada has arrived."

She hastily shoved the full magazine down the front of her shirt, and zipped up her parka.

Karl trained his rifle. "What the hell are you doing, girl?" he questioned Brooke with a menacing tone. She still had her gun aimed squarely at the head of an almost unconscious John.

Brooke quickly dropped the pistol and raised her hands in the air. Karl still didn't relax his pose. He came down on Jeff.

"And you?"

"If you must know, I almost died, Karl. Literally, at the hands of one of your own."

"I don't understand." The rest of the Spartans had arrived on the scene, forming a circle.

"John!" Brooke muttered angrily. "It was him. He attacked Jeff. I arrived just in time and clubbed the bastard."

"It's hard to believe."

"Well, believe it!" Jeff violently lashed out at the prone Spartan. He received two other Spartans who grabbed him from behind, and restrained his body.

"Still aren't sold? Look at that," Brooke motioned to Jeff's reddened neck.

Karl studied him, but was still indecisive. "Get John back to camp. You two," he looked directly at Jeff and Brooke, "we're going to have a talk with the doctor back in camp. And the rest of you, training's over. Someone alert the rest of the blues. Let's haul ass."

As the Spartans made their way back through the forest, Brooke and Jeff fell to the rear.

"You really should get that looked at." Brooke reached out to examine his wound.

Jeff shied away from her hand. "Go to the medical facility—and get another mysterious injection? No thanks. I'll take my chances out here again." He tenderly felt his neck. A normal person's windpipe would've been crushed to a pulp. Maybe being a Spartan did have advantages. It seemed he was going to find that out soon enough.

0616 Hours, August 30, 2552 Reach Military Complex

-! Jeff had to wear the armour, and Jeff had to fight aliens. That was the transformation into a Spartan he was resisting. I didn't really want to see him in the suit, as he was more of a plainclothes kind of guy. But when I finally got back to writing chapter 15 from a long hiatus, I knew how it needed to end, even if the rewrite didn't quite agree with it and chapter 16.

"It itches."

"It does not. Now, hold steady—and breathe normally."

"If you want me any more motionless, I'd have to be dead."

"You know, I'll settle for sedated."

"I'll be fine," Jeff hastily replied.

Wells nodded amiably. "I thought so. Please continue," she addressed the technicians.

Jeff had been woken up in the early hours of the morning so he could be fitted in the newly developed MJOLNIR armour—the type with new shielding technology. The doctor didn't think Jeff would have any difficulties mastering the thing, so she didn't even bother with training him in the first type of MJOLNIR. But Jeff was less cooperative than she would like.

"Hurry now. We've got to get through the technical tests, and then we must move on through the obstacle course."

"Well, I'm hurrying as fast as I can," Jeff stated dryly. "Where are the other Spartans?"

Wells circled around Jeff's bulky form, clipboard in hand. "Off on one of Halsey's missions," she answered. The doctor received a thumbs-up signal from one technician. "Perfect. Everything should work fine. How do you feel?"

Jeff kept his usually witty quip to himself this time. "It's—a suit of armour. Am I supposed to feel something? If you're asking what I think of it… it's too green."

"Move around for a bit." Wells ignored his comment.

He strolled around the room with an ease, albeit awkwardly. "Everything checks out. Now, about this shielding stuff?"

"I was just getting to that." Wells motioned to the helmet on a nearby tray. She noticed Jeff frown. "It'll offer you protection. Nobody cares what you look like, any way."

Jeff glanced at a nearby technician. "Real nice lady, huh?"

On a holographic projector, an AI's image wavered and formed. "Doctor, may I have a word?"

"Can this wait?"

"I'm afraid not. This is quite an urgent issue."

Wells sighed and motioned for Jeff to wait. As she spoke to the AI, Jeff noticed her face. Her expression started as an irritated one. As she received news, it turned to genuine concern—then fear. Something was definitely up. She quickly strode to where Jeff stood.

"It's too late," she whispered. "They've found us."

"The Covenant?" Jeff asked. He should be afraid, but—maybe the words hadn't registered yet.

"Correct. Landing craft launched approximately fifteen minutes ago. That means—" her face paled a shade Jeff thought was impossible. "They should be arriving now."

As if on cue, gunfire and explosion were heard from outside the testing facility building. Chatter in alien tongue, as well as the screams and orders of human speech greeted Jeff's ears.

A massive figure blocked the sunlight streaming in from the crack of the facility gate. At first, Jeff misinterpreted it for another Spartan. But something was too odd. Its armour looked much curvier, and the figure seemed strangely hunched over. Then it suddenly hit his brain…

So not a Spartan. He quickly disappeared behind a row of stacked crates. The alien hadn't seen him yet, he was sure of it. Wells however, was standing still, too shocked to move.

The alien moved towards her, its rifle lowered, enjoying seeing her recoil with fear. He was going to end her… slowly. She was surely harmless.

Suddenly, Wells regained her composure and materialized a pistol from her lab coat. After quickly thumbing the safety, holding it uneasily, she fired two rounds into the creature. The projectiles harmlessly bounced off of the alien's protective coating. It clicked his mandibles and began to reach for her; he was going to wring her neck. Before he could touch her, an iron rod fell across his outstretched arms.

"Hands off, boy," a chilling voice from behind him growled. As the alien turned to look, eager for another human to kill, he received a whip across the face from the tip of the rod. Through the shielding, he felt the impact on his face. He snarled with embarrassment and anger. For his effort, he was beaten by the iron once again in the back of his head. Before the Spartan could strike again, he lunged forward.

Jeff and the creature fought for control of the rod, tugging and lashing out violently with their free hands. The Spartan gave the 'elite' a shove with his steel boot, propelling the alien back and bashed the blunt weapon over its head, bending the rod. The alien shield began to shimmer, and it roared in pain. Jeff discarded the busted iron, and ran at the stunned alien. He delivered a devastating drop-kick, knocking the alien down. The elite scrambled over to pick up his fallen rifle. Jeff kicked the alien in its side, and it halted its movement. Then, quick as lighting, the alien's fingers snatched up its side-arm and leveled it at Jeff. The Spartan, however, had matched his movement, and was even quicker. Before the alien could line up a shot, Jeff's rifle had already coughed out three rounds, which tore a hole through its elongated helmet. Purple blood pooled by its head as it slumped to the ground.

Jeff cautiously made his way over to the alien pistol. He picked it up, and shot the alien in the chest once again—just to make sure it was dead.

The doors slid apart, and another figure rushed through the blinding light. Fortunately, this time it was a Spartan.

"Jeff, Doctor," it said, (Jeff recognized Brooke's voice), "are you all right?"

"Never been better—" Jeff tried to sound cheery. He laughed—"Who the hell am I kidding? Of course I've been better. I wouldn't even have been mixed up in this mess. As for Wells—she's a little traumatized, looks like."

Brooke only nodded in silent agreement. "How did you kill it?" She pointed at the corpse.

"I've seen the combat vids. I think I know just enough."

"Impressive." The silent Wells suddenly spoke up.

"So you've got your suit?" Brooke tossed him his helmet. "Chin the control, and the shield should work fine."

Jeff noticed the rifle she clutched, and remembered what their situation was. It definitely wasn't good.

"What are we going to do—about the Covenant?"

"We fight them, as always."

"No." Wells began to act like her own self. "Fighting them isn't my number one priority. Maybe for Halsey's toys—but you two," she nodded at Jeff and Brooke, "were chosen for different purposes. We have to get off of Reach."

"What about saving the largest fortification of the human worlds?"

"Reach nothing!" she snapped. "Reach was doomed ever since the Covenant arrived. The other Spartans are undoubtedly turning back now. They're bred for combat. You two are coming with me."

Jeff nodded slowly, taking it all in. "And how do we get off this place, with the space being a combat zone in all directions?"

Wells waved her hand dismissively, and replied curtly, "I've got people working on it."

Brooke was silent, but she made no objection to the doctor's plan. When both Spartans looked at Wells for details, she simply told them, "Follow me. We're going to need guns—lot's of 'em."

The Spartans were led briskly by the doctor through the seemingly endless gun and equipment racks located within the facility.

"Take what you need, and anything that you think is useful. We might need to make a grand exit—but hopefully, we can slip away unnoticed."

Jeff had his original custom-made rifle from his earlier years slung over one shoulder. He browsed through the confusing array of weaponry. There was the standard military issue equipment, non-military adopted firearms, prototype weaponry, and even rare explosives.

"You may be interested in these newer models—just shipped in from Earth." Wells pointed at a gun rack of a newer pistol Jeff hadn't seen the marines use before, a sub-machine which was no-doubt recently adopted—he'd seen the design on the streets before, and a rifle which featured a scope. It looked much more light-weight than the heavy-duty assault rifles the marines were using.

Jeff selected two M6C Magnums from the rack, and six spare magazines. He dropped two M7 SMG's into an equipment pack and loaded up with plenty of ammo. He'd considered slinging the BR55 across his chest, but settled for some heavier explosives—he carefully placed two Lotus mines into his pack and looped C12 explosive around his waist. As much as he was comfortable with the ordinary street firearms, he'd need equipment which was much more tough and reliable.

Although Jeff decided to go in mostly light, Brooke became a 'bullet hose', armed with larger rifles and a powerful M90. Her assault rifle was slung on her shoulder, as well as the BR55. She tucked a magnum into a hip holster, and reached for the grenade container. Brooke clipped four to her belt, and tossed two over to Jeff.

The two Spartans emerged from the warehouse, while the doctor had found her way back into her office to pick up a field-surgeon kit. The Spartans looked like two greedy children on a twisted Christmas morning. They were ready for just about anything.

-! A lot of set up. Not enough pay off. They had a lot of firepower, but I didn't make use of it the way I wanted to. I rectified this in the rewrite by having them only carry a couple of weapons. Also, I wanted Jeff to dual wield at least once in the story. This was changed when Brooke did it in the club in the rewrite. The dual pistols became her thing, while Jeff stuck to traditional firearm usage.

"Come with me to the vehicle bay. We're going to need to get to the extraction point on the double. But first," Wells paused, and then hit the switch to the warehouse doors. "My AI will take care of the rest—this place is going to be locked up tight."

The three proceeded down the hallway and a quick pace. Brooke held her shotgun at the ready, and Jeff with his SMG's.

"Contact, around this next bend—they're in the foyer. These guys must've come in here looking for a fight." Brooke announced in a low whisper. Jeff held up both guns.

"Wells, stay here for a second. It seems you know the only way out. We can't let you die."

"Okay, on my mark, we get in there and frag them."

"Sounds like a plan." Jeff nodded sagely.

"Mark!"

-! Most of the action here was kept the same, accounting for changes of weaponry.

In unison, both Spartans entered the room and took in the situation a split-second before they opened fire. There were three elites, a crimson and two blue armoured ones; and roughly a squad of seven grunts, topped off with two jackals.

Brooke brought her shotgun to her chest, aimed at the nearest blue elite a foot away from her, and quickly squeezed the trigger. The eight-gauge shell tore through the elite's shielding and flesh. The corpse flew backwards, and hit the wall, leaving a splatter of fresh alien blood—one down. She pumped the broomstick, and turned to the rest.

Jeff had run into the room, guns blazing, expending hundreds of rounds into the surprised aliens. Five grunts flopped to the ground, one's methane tank rupture hissing gas. He'd even managed to take down a Jackal who had had its back turned to him. The remaining grunts were taken out by a single shot from Brooke. The remaining bullets in Jeff's SMG's were spent on the Jackal's energy shield. As both guns went dry, the shield overheated and gave out. The unprotected alien was ripped to pieces by another M90 shell. Now, they had to concentrate on the elites.

Jeff quickly fed two more magazines into his guns. Both the aliens and Spartans circled each other, guns at the ready. The Elites hadn't fired, waiting for the humans to either get killed by the lower ranking Covenant, or they showed weakness.

Brooke and Jeff, as if a signal was sent to both their brains, dove to their sides as the Elites opened fire, slashing the air with plasma. Bullets deflected off of the alien's shields, and others pockmarked the walnut paneling.

The blue elite took this moment to charge at the two, while the more experienced crimson elite stayed back. Brooke saw this, and tossed her own shotgun to Jeff. He sidestepped the overzealous elite, caught the shotgun in one hand, and turned it on the alien. Another elite was out of the fight. Jeff stepped forward at the remaining elite, firing off and pumping his gun. The elite took each round in the chest, and was driven backwards. As Jeff squeezed the trigger to deliver the finishing round, the Shotgun clicked—empty. Thinking impulsively, he swung the butt of the gun at the alien's head. It rang with a metallic clank! As the elite tried to rise, a shot rang out from the other side of the room, and it fell over backwards, dead.

Brooke examined her BR55 with admiration, and set the rate of fire to burst. Jeff discarded the empty shotgun and began to move towards the exit. Wells caught up with the Spartans, and the three began to jog towards the garage.

Jeff felt energized. He hadn't felt this good since the beginning of all this—the blood on his hands felt oddly comforting. Maybe he was meant to be a part of this war…

Stop! He told himself. It's only the brainwash talking—some of that neurological garbage. Whatever happens, I am not content.

Sounds of battle could still be heard coming from down in the valley—the Covenant were trying to take out the generators, Wells had explained. She'd also reminded him that helping those marines weren't important. He felt a momentary pang of bitterness, as he thought about Jen. She could be anywhere, right now. But something gave him the impression that she was here, now, fighting for her life.

As he neared the entrance to the vehicle bay, he pulled out both Magnums. They felt much natural to hold, in comparison to the standard M6D pistols. Being comfortable was nothing, as opposed to effectiveness. If they couldn't shoot worth… Jeff always had his rifle as back up.

On the count of three, both Spartans kicked in the side door and entered the garage. A smaller group of Covenant milled about—nothing of a serious threat here. Jeff sprang forward, quickly squeezing both triggers as rapidly as his fingers allowed. The elite took every round in its face, and it fell to the concrete ground as its shielding gave away, and a powerful magnum round punctured a hole through its helmet.

Brooke fired off two bursts—six rounds spent, and four grunts fell. They waited cautiously, for any more movement. Jeff ejected both empty magazines, and fed in fresh ones. After holstering the magnums, his eyes rested on a working Warthog. He hadn't had too much practice with heavy-duty military vehicles, but he was up to the challenge. He flexed his fingers.

"All aboard," he motioned to the vehicle.

Brooke rested her hand on his shoulder, and asked, "Are you sure you want to drive?"

"Sure. I've been getting quite good—you know, illegal street drags, and the like. If this beast handles anything like my beauty back home, this should be a cinch."

Brooke and the doctor exchanged worries glances—or at least, what Wells interpreted from the MJOLNIR armour.

She climbed into the back of the 'hog, and reached forward to grab hold of the large LAAG chain gun. Jeff had already started the engine.

"Just keep it steady, okay?"

Jeff held a pistol up in his right hand, while gripping the steering wheel in his left. "Gotcha. If you had seat belts, I'd tell you to strap in." He revved the engine, and stomped on the accelerator.

-! I kept the warthog in so I could roll right into chapter 16 (ha-ha, get it?) and not change anything there. All I had to do with 16 is finish it.

Chapter 16

Tying It Up, Tying It Together

Since what is posted is the actual original 16, I'll just commentate over parts of it. I'll be going more in-depth on this one.

16 was never finished before I left Spartan 000. I had only gotten as far as when Jeff reaches the bunkers, not even when he finds Jen. I wrote that shortly after finishing the original chapter 15, but so much time had gone by, I had to go back and make sure the first few chapters were readable. They weren't. I spent less than a year reworking the first chapters, then between 10, 11, and even 12, probably two years. I know for a fact at least one between 12 and 13. 12 was finished a long time ago, but I couldn't fill in the ending for some reason. Finishing 13, the next few nights I spent hitting up 14, 15, and finally finishing 16.

I shot myself in the foot going back and replacing content. I couldn't get rid of one whole chapter, and I had run out of ideas between 12-14. Jeff needed to finish where he left off. The opening scene in the new chapter 15 finished off 14 nicely, even though that wasn't in my plan.

When people read Spartan 000 however many years ago, they had a much different experience than the one I came up with recently. Sixteen remains the same, with only minute difference with regards to character interaction, but gives the character much needed closure so that it might have even fit with the original story. It was like the final goodbye that needed to be said, finishing off a story that should have been completed in 2006.

The lone elite and his squad of bungling grunts trudged through the training grounds, searching for survivors to kill. It raised its rifle, and glanced around warily. The smaller aliens impatiently fidgeted with their methane tanks and looked expectantly at the leader.

As he heard the whine of a human vehicle, he snapped his head to the left, in the general direction of the noise. But it was too late—the metallic green of the warthog was the last thing it ever saw. The driving force plowed into the elite's chest, throwing the lifeless corpse back a few metres.

The tires squealed as Jeff drifted to a halt. A burst from Brooke's chain gun finished the last of them. Jeff put the vehicle at a steady pace, and performed a sharp right—then a left. The vehicle cut through a section of various buildings. The entire complex was quite large, almost like a small town.

Wells' knuckles were white, fastened to the side of her seat. She ordered shakily, "Okay, right, go… right. Now left. Left!" Jeff was a smooth driver, but even in the heavily armoured vehicle, she felt her bones rattle as she was thrown back and forth.

-! In the original, Jeff and Brooke and even Wells had a playful relationship. I might have accidentally left some of that in the rewritten 16, but the opening of the rewritten 15 might have changed that tone some. Jeff was a little goofier back then, too.

Once in a while, he'd take both hands off the wheel, reaching for his magnum sidearm, like he was a stunt driver, causing the doctor to snap at him. Even Brooke bent her knees slightly, as if to hide behind the massive gun, like it would protect her. This annoyed Jeff just a little, but he drove on.

Before they came to the edge of the entire military grounds, they'd cleared an entire path and left a trail of smoking, bullet-ridden bodies. It still wasn't enough. Covenant troops were still pouring into the area. They'd maybe managed to clear two eighths of the entire force. This wasn't including the entire army which had landed on Reach. Wells squinted and spotted the gatehouse up ahead.

"Jeff, stop there. We have to find a way to hack into the system to open—"

"No time." The Spartan's answer was brief. And at the same time, it told the doctor exactly what was happening.

Her eyes widened, and she shrunk lower into her seat, trying to brace for impact. Brooke stared at the back of Jeff's head.

-! Everything up until now was largely unchanged. Original 2006 or 2007 writing. The following vehicle sequence had little details and dialogue changed up, but was part of the original document as well.

"Jeff, we should talk about this. I know we have a lot of unresolved issues…"

"Another time. Maybe if we survive this," Jeff said, his brow knitted.

The speedometer was rising fast. 90 km, 100, 110… Jeff gritted his teeth and floored the 'hog. Today was the day he found out how much damage this beast could take. He didn't bother swerving to avoid a plasma bolt, which smashed into their tail light, shattering the bulb; he needed all the momentum he could conjure up. Another bolt slashed through the air, a centimeter away from Brooke's face, but she didn't dare turn around to return fire. She got low and pressed her thigh under the LAAG's mount, securing herself in the bed.

The gate was getting bigger by the second. It was comprised of basic chain-link—however, reinforced with a sheet of Titanium-A "battle plate" armour. If the damned jeep would stop fish-tailing for a second, Jeff would aim straight for the iron rods which made up the frame. That would hopefully bust it open. If not, their ride would be totaled, they would all hurt pretty bad and if Wells couldn't break the gates electronically, they'd be trapped. Then again, Wells might actually be dead, were that the case.

Jeff forced himself to laugh. This might have been the stupidest thing he ever attempted, or if all of them lived, it would have been the smartest. He bent eagerly over the steering wheel. This was it.

There was a smash of impact, then the shriek of distressed metal, then all at the same time, the clang of plating snapping off and flying outwards. Jeff's head snapped back, ramming his skull into the back of his seat. There was no headrest, so it wasn't quite a comfy ride out. But the speed he had picked up had done the trick. The warthog shot through the now twisted pieces of gate. The thick, solid warthog was now scratched and dented in a dozen places. Headlights, hubcaps, and even a bumper had fallen off. The engine began to belch out black smoke, overworked and most likely rattled out of position, but he paid no attention. He allowed himself a smile, and looked over his shoulder. It should be smooth sailing from here on.

Jeff gunned the warthog down the trail. He sensed both of the passengers loosen up. But they weren't exactly out of the woods just yet. The extraction point was just outside the kill zone—ten miles swarming with the entire fucking Covenant armada.

Wells had mapped out a route which took a compromise of safety and speed. Jeff glanced at the Nav marker his HUD now showed and put the warthog at a steady pace. Reach was being overrun almost everywhere, but Wells took a path straight through the woods away from the major hotspots.

"We'll take the road which goes along the river and passes near the generators," Wells told Jeff over the roar of the engine and the leaves and branches slapping the windshield with noisy cracks.

-! In an effort to match 000 with the Halo canon, I needed Jeff in the fight somewhere. Also I knew he needed to meet up with Jen one more time. The generators seemed a likely enough place for them to find each other.

Jeff's eyebrow shot up, and he took his eyes off the road to shoot a look at the doctor. "The generator? The same one which powers the MAC guns in orbit?"

"The same one the Covenant are gunning for?" Brooke had gotten off the LAAG for fear of low-flying branches and was crouched behind the drivers' and passengers' seats.

"The same place that's most likely the hottest combat zone on the entire planet? Excuse me for saying, Doc, but that kind of takes the whole sneaky getaway thing to a bit of a miss, doesn't it?" Jeff steered through the winding path, stomping on the accelerator to move through the thick mud. They were almost at the edge of the woods.

"Possibly," Wells turned to the two Spartans and said, "but with any luck, the Covenant haven't reached it yet. We're quite deep in friendly territory. If that's a risk I'm willing to take, I'll put my life, as well as yours, down on it."

And with that, the road in front of them promptly exploded in a flash of fiery plasma, causing Jeff to swerve and run completely off the path. He swore as he struggled to control the beast as it tore downhill, smashing through bushes and small trees. As he did his best to avoid the larger obstacles and slow down, the warthog spun almost ninety degrees, putting the left-rear end of the vehicle into the thick trunk of a tree. It tore off a large chunk of the oak and put a deep dent into the warthog's armoured side. It was where Brooke sat just a second ago and she glared at the back of Jeff's armoured head, her mouth hanging open. But the vehicle continued its rapid descent down the mountainside, taking all the vegetation with it.

Suddenly, the warthog struck a low boulder and soared through the air, then landed with a jarring crunch! Jeff was finally able to drift to a sudden stop, throwing his passengers forward. For a moment, the three were still, breathing heavily and silent.

Jeff began to laugh in relief, causing a slight smile out of Wells. But Brooke glanced out into the sky and swore. Jeff looked up and his eyes widened. He quickly slid out of the drivers' seat, followed by Brooke who held on to Wells' arm, pulling her forward. Jeff got under Wells' other arm, and the Spartans ran as fast as they could with the doctor dangling in between. A moment later, the warthog exploded into pieces of flaming metal as a plasma mortar dropped from the sky and scored a perfect hit. What was once their ride was now half-melted metal and in about a hundred pieces, too.

Wells' face fell in disbelief, as did Jeff and Brooke. The planet was being swarmed, and there was no way they could make it to the extraction point on time. But they didn't have too much time to think, as the sounds of battle drifted closer, and they took off towards friendly lines.

Once they reached the clearing, they saw a number of newly constructed bunkers surround a set of buildings which were obviously the generators. The Covenant knew it too, and were already attacking in full force, wave by wave. The battle was only starting, and dead Covenant littered the grounds. The marines inside the bunkers seemed to be all right, gunning down any alien who came into view. Another large wave was already advancing on the defensive position. The three would be found sooner or later, so the only safe place would be the bunkers.

Brooke lifted her rifle and checked it over. Jeff had his assault rifle, and leaned forward, ready to sprint.

"Run straight for the bunker and keep Wells in between us. Pick off a few if you can," Brooke told Jeff, "You take point. When I say…"

She primed a grenade and lobbed it into the middle of the Covenant forces. The ones who were too late to dive out of the way were blown to bits. Brooke patted Jeff on the shoulder then calmly began to pick off the rising aliens and follow the other Spartan. Jeff sprayed the area with his MA5, while side-stepping to allow Wells greater cover. When the dust cleared leaving an elite and four very confused jackals, the marines' powerful machine guns made short work of the aliens.

Brooke remained outside to cover the exits while Jeff and the doctor entered the nearest bunker. Inside, the marines paused momentarily to take in the sight of MJOLNIR armour. Jeff ignored this and told Wells to start planning an alternate route out, then turned to find a ranking officer.

Outside there was about a company's worth of men, taking cover behind a row of sandbags or sitting in forward fox holes all over the field. Beside a brace-mounted machine gun was a marine who peered intently through a pair of field glasses. His face was deepened to a scowl while the cigarette in his mouth glowed. His FOF tag read BUCKMAN, LT. Just the man Jeff needed. When he got down on one knee to speak to the lieutenant, the officer removed his cigarette from his mouth, but continued to stare through the glasses. Yet, he knew Jeff was there.

-! I planned for Jen to get wounded during this chapter, but only half way through writing did I realise this was the perfect opportunity to throw in Buckman, the man who lazed himself and his crew.

"Covie bastards… Just throwing scraps our way. I can see those sons of bitches on the other side of the hill. They got ghosts, hunters and everything." Buckman finally lowered the glasses and glanced at Jeff and asked, "You here to help us or you come to watch the show?"

Jeff shook his head and straightened his body. "No… sir," he added instinctively. He said, "I've come to ask you how the situation was."

Buckman spat and looked over to the battlefield again. "Those guys aren't even trying. They're seeing how long we can last out. But every second we hold, we blow a dozen of their ships outta the sky. I think they're waiting on reinforcements or something. I don't know about the rest of the planet, but what matters is the generator."

Jeff pursed his lips. This was going to be a tricky escape… but of course, he couldn't let the lieutenant know. He nodded slowly and told him, "Maybe we can flank them before they get a chance to mobilize—catch them on the unawares. Get 'em up close."

Buckman thought this over. "I wouldn't have attempted it because we didn't have the manpower to do it before. But with two Spartans? Maybe this can work after all."

"We're not…exactly… uh… yeah, we can kick some ass," Jeff said awkwardly.

"…All right. Then let's do it. You're coming up with me. Give me a second to assemble the assault team. Forty marines, no more, no less." With that, Buckman got to his feet and rallied up any willing volunteers while Jeff made his way back to Wells.

"I'm trying to raise them on the COMM," she explained. "It's not easy. I suggest working with the marines for the time being while I get this sorted out."

"Then I'll go with Buckman. Brooke will stay here with you."

The team had fanned out and moved through the forest. Buckman stood and pointed forward. "The Covenant aren't hitting us too hard, and I assume they're sleeping all the way down there. So, it's up to us to wake them. I was thinking of a 'good-morning' air strike, but you all could probably think of a better plan. Let's move it up!"

Buckman looked at Jeff. "Just one Spartan?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jeff shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave. "I'm twice the man she is."

The Spartan stepped over a thick tree root, quietly tapping his rifle against the palm of his hand to the beat in his head. He wanted this to be over and done so he could get off Reach before the Covenant glassed the whole damn place.

"Lieutenant Buckman!" a female marine called out and jogged forward. Buckman put the soldiers at a halt and strode forward to talk to the marine. Jeff also made his way over, but paused as he saw who it was.

"I just got word from Torres back at the generator. The Covies are starting to move up now, and they don't have the manpower to hold out."

"That means our surprise raid won't have any effect."

"Not if they're not there," she agreed.

"Right. That means we should strike here and now."

Jeff decided to interrupt. "That sounds like a good plan. I recommend coordinating with the men back at the generator to strike the Covenant assault force." Seeing Buckman turn back to the marine, Jeff quickly called out, "Private, get on the radio to Torres and HighCom."

Buckman motioned for the rest of the team to stay put as he talked with Hill. Jeff watched the officer, then turned his attention to the marine behind him. "Now, I want you to… Jen!"

Jen Wilson stared at him with a blank look and cocked her head quizzically. "Yes sir?"

He didn't know why he remembered her. Fifteen years later, she was still just as striking as the day he met her. It felt like a lifetime ago. He reached for his helmet and began, "It's me, Je—"

Then he stopped. She couldn't remember him. He wasn't even sure she wanted to remember him. Their time together was much too brief.

He was a different person.

She probably didn't care.

-! The original events took place much closer to 2552. 15 and 16 would have fit better if the events from chapters 5-11 weren't within the same month or so. But in the long run, the cryo sleep wasn't as difficult to make believable as I thought it would. The different person remark was a throwback to how different the rewrite Jeff was compared to this one. Also how I didn't really care about Jen as a character anymore.

Jeff continued looking at her, then asked, "What are you doing, Private?"

"Standing by. Where do you need me?"

"Right where you are is fine," Jeff said hastily. "So what are you doing on Reach? I mean, how'd you end up here?"

"My unit came in for a little R&R, sir. Too bad the Covies came to crash the party, huh?"

Jeff let out a chuckle. He cleared his throat and looked away. Jen smiled warmly at him. "Who said Spartans don't have a sense of humour?"

"I'm sure they're all very hilarious underneath their helmets," Jeff replied. "I hear they're evacuating military personnel. You draw the short straw?"

"Actually, no," Jen said. "Everyone here volunteered to stay behind, to keep the defense platforms running. To give the evacuees a chance when they exit atmo."

-! This was all new dialogue I had to write in order to release the thing. Keeping the selfless hero persona, Jen Wilson was back in full form. I wanted to play that up, perhaps too much, but seeing Jen had to change Jeff in some way.

"But you're throwing your life away!" Jeff accidentally let slip. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right."

"It's a fair point," she said with a frown. "But I've come to terms already. People die in this war. If I'm going to be added to that number, then whatever happens will happen. Just take the time I got left and make use of it."

Jeff looked away and said quietly, "You have a very definite outlook on life."

"I do okay by it, you know? You don't argue with what can be, you deal with what is."

"Yeah."

"So there's a good chance I won't see the end of this, right? Whatever. All I can do is hope it'll be quick. But even then…" She paused.

"You have to deal with what is," Jeff finished for her.

"Yeah."

They sat together in silence, watching the rest of the marines. Buckman was still figuring out how to use his headset.

"You seen a lot of this in your time? As a Spartan?" Jen asked.

Jeff thought for a moment, then told her, "It gets pretty rough when you get down to it. But hey, I've seen even worse. You're doing fine, Private."

"Good to know," she said to herself. "What goes into the program?"

"What?"

"How does one become a Spartan?"

"Genes, bad luck, and a credible reference," Jeff told her. "Why do you ask?"

"Years back on Arcturei, my squad was pinned down by a shitload of Covies. Just when I thought, this is the end, this is what's happening now… they swooped in and saved us. I'll never forget the moment they charged the fixed positions like something out of folklore, or fairytales."

"This is starting to sound like one."

"I heard about them before, but to witness them up close? It takes the respect to a whole new level. If the outfit wasn't so secretive, I think I would have wanted to join up."

For once, Jeff didn't offer his input. He simply nodded.

"I just like the idea of helping out anyone whenever they need it. And boy do we need help," Jen said. "They just do so much for us. Those are the people we need to build statues for, not tyrants, cowards with silver tongues. So on behalf of the everyone still alive," she placed a hand on top of his. "Thank you. For everything."

"You really don't need to—" before Jeff finished what he was saying, Buckman stood and called out to him.

"I think we did it! Just hold tight and watch the fireworks!"

There was a low rumbling sound. Something about it made Jeff uneasy. The Covenant position was still a ways off from them, but the sound kept growing louder.

He craned his head upward and froze. His HUD enhanced the image and he saw it through slow-moving frames.

There was a shriek of passing aircraft, and the scream of falling bombs. Buckman swore, but didn't have time to run. Right before the forest exploded, Jeff jumped forward and covered her with his bulky frame and bellowed, "JEN! GET DOWN!"

Jeff coughed uncontrollably. He hacked up blood and clenched his jaw, feeling like every tooth in his mouth was rattled loose. His eyes watered from the smoke and dust… his helmet had been blown off his shoulders when the explosions tossed him into the air and through a couple of trees.

He heard a weak groan behind him. He rolled over and crawled to Jen's heaving form. She lay on the ground, her eyes blinking wildly. He glanced down and nearly yelled out, angry at the Covenant, angry at the universe.

Jen's torso was covered in blood. Her hand feebly trembled by her side. Jeff took hold of it and peeled back the blood-soaked, ripped and torn ballistic armour. Fragments of vicious looking shrapnel were embedded into her gut, shredding all the way through her body.

"Jen," he whispered, "God dammit! Jen!"

Her eyes focused, looking at him. "Jeff?"

It killed him to hear that. "Yeah, it's me. Hang on, okay?"

"You became a Spartan?" She looked dazed.

-! This worked for the original story, I don't remember if I ever brought this back up in the rewrite.

Jeff gritted his teeth as he answered, "I did."

She managed a smile, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. "You saved me on Arcturei. I knew it." She closed her eyes.

"Jen, look at me," Jeff said, panicking. He looked around the remains of the forest. Only upturned dirt, shattered tree trunks and grotesque corpses remained. "Stay with me!"

Jen let out a whimper, and her eyes welled with tears. "It hurts. God, it hurts!"

Jeff looked horrified. His armour protected him from most of the impact, and while he shielded Jen, it was impossible to protect her completely. The others were gone in seconds… she had to go through the worst of it. He whispered, "Jen, I'm so sorry."

She squeezed his hand and said, "It's all right. It's going to be okay. It'll be over soon."

-! I repeated this a lot, throughout the last few chapters. Maybe it was my subconscious at 4 in the morning telling me something.

Jeff closed his eyes, not letting go. "You would make an amazing Spartan. The best."

Jen breathed out. "You saved me on Arcturei, didn't you?"

A pause, then, "Yeah. I did."

"Thank you," she mumbled, growing faint. Then her hand fell limp. Jeff tightened his grip, waiting for her to squeeze back.

She never did.

He let out a hoarse cry and crushed a clump of dirt in his left fist. After a moment, he wiped the moisture dribbling down his cheeks and said gently, "Thank you."

Jeff staggered to the edge of the forest, his rifle hanging loosely in his grasp. His helmet was tucked under his arm. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, his features expressionless. Around him, the forest was grey and dying. Fires dotted the ground, shell holes were carved into the land.

In the clearing, there was a roar overhead with the beating of enormous, powerful rotors. A Falcon transport hovered above him and touched down in the meadow. He saw Brooke jump out of the door and wave him forward. Behind her, Doctor Wells sat strapped in. She was casually scrolling through her electronic pad, her legs crossed and hair done up.

-! This probably didn't come off as well as I would have liked. But I wanted to show the hell Jeff went through, then immediately after, how undisturbed Wells was by the whole thing. Someone had just died in Jeff's arms, and they were too busy running away from the fight.

Jeff stood completely still. From inside his helmet, he heard Brooke's voice.

"Jeff, this is it. We need to go! We're leaving right now! Come on! Get out of there! It's over!"

Broadcasting on the same frequency, another voice broke in. "Is anybody out there? We're pinned down and need assistance. This is Admiral Danforth Whitcomb! I repeat, we are pinned down and need assistance. Is anyone out there?"

-! I wanted this to mirror Jen's experience on Arcturei, giving Jeff a chance to redeem himself. Brooke says "It's over" and it very abruptly reminds him of Jen's dying words, "It's almost over." Then Whitcomb, straight from First Strike, cuts in requesting help.

For a long while, he stared at the Falcon.

Then he put his helmet over his head and turned on his heel. As he marched with confident strides, picking up speed, he hefted his assault rifle. He chinned the control and said loud and clear, "This is Spartan 000, reporting for duty."

-! If we want to be all pretentious, the helmet I thought symbolized the thing that covers Jeff's true identity as he becomes a Spartan in the loosest sense. But even before I saw it that way, I had planned for Jeff to struggle to keep the helmet off. After I needed him to have the shield, though he never gets shot, the idea snuck away. But when he puts it on for the final time, it is like he is accepting his role. If anything, like everything about the SPARTAN II program, 000 is about transformation. He has run from it his whole life, but after seeing the war through his own eyes, Jeff finally gives in.

This is a huge change. Even in the original, I had planned for Jeff to carry Jen's wounded body back with him and place her in cryo (leaving open possibility for her to come back as a Spartan?) then, to be rid of Wells' control, killing himself. Fighting to the end. But I found Jen's death had more of an impact and thus paved the way for a more heroic ending. He finally refers himself as a Spartan (though he technically is just an augmented being) to respect Jen's memory, and he more or less gives himself into the service of the UNSC, taking on responsibility he never had before.

He walks away from Brooke and the doctor. He shies away from the path of darkness and turns back to fight. It ends on a weird note. For a story filled with gunfights and hand-to-hand combat every other chapter, the ending had very little action. I wanted Jeff to stop an entire Covenant assault, but that wouldn't fit here for some reason. It was too melancholy to start up the fighting, especially after the death of a character.

Well, that's enough out of me. Thus ends my first ever Author's Commentary. Thank you for reading through all of this crap. That's all the bonus material I have lying around, all 72 pages of it on Word.

In hindsight, maybe some of it should be forgotten, though.

Anyhoo, my billet is full with my start in original fiction these days. It's exciting to start to create your own universe, though less so in terms of filling up at 100k novel. But hopefully I have learned a thing or two from this beautiful train wreck and hopefully you'll see me on bookshelves one day.

Ta.