Disclaimer: No, I do not own any of Bungie's or Halo's original characters. Master Chief is just too kool.

Author's note: I kinda revised a bit.

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Groaning, the green-armored Chief shook his head to clear it.

"Ugh, where am I?" His gravelly voice sounded unusually sluggish.

Shaking his head again, Master Chief called out softly, "Cortana? Cort-"

But then it all came rushing back to him. The flood. The need to get back to Earth. Leaving Cortana behind. His arm was shaking before he realized just how hard he was clenching his fist. With a sound of rage, he slammed the said fist down on the hard metallic floor.

'Damn it' The thought rang in his head, helping little to lessen his rage, though it did help him feel slightly better.

He hadn't made it. The ship's doors had closed too fast. So instead of going inside like he had intended, Master Chief had been launched straight out into the air. Falling gods know how far. He had absolutely no clue how he had survived at all.

'Maybe I survived, but Earth…'

Clatter!

Master Chief instantly jumped up at the sound, crouching even as his hand reached over to pull out his assault rifle. A major shock went through him as his fingers merely grasped at air. Looking down, he patted around his belt and the compartments of his armor.

Empty. They were gone. All his weapons. The realization hit him all at once, acting almost as a physical blow. He was unarmed. 'Shit'

Stunned, he stood out there in the open when he should have been sprinting to a place he could hide. The crumbled innards of the structure had enough fallen stones and shadows to hide him. But it took a second longer than it should have to register. He was out in the open. Vulnerable. It was only when it was too late, when he heard a voice shout, that he started to run.

"Demon!"

Master Chief cursed aloud, his feet taking him as fast as he could away from there. There was no mistaking the warbled, throaty shout. What he had heard was none other than an Elite. And where there was one…

----

His hasty departure left a stunned Elite, who had been readying himself for an attack. But seeing the armored figure turn and run away was too much of a shock. Frowning a bit in confusion, he reported via radio in his helmet back to his commander. They had spotted a figure falling as the massive covenant ship had withdrawn from High Charity. Having a sudden attack of compassion, the golden-armored Elite had ordered the pilot to bring their smaller Phantom down, believing the falling person to be one of their own. Man, was he in for a surprise.

Drajha-Lee had been sitting haggardly in his seat, his vacant expression unable, or rather unwilling, to focus on anything. He was pondering for the millionth time why he had been assigned clean-up duty. He was a high-class Elite, after all. 'I simply cannot believe Ranjon-Riramee would stoop so low as to have me established within this line of work. At least he did not place a mere handful of minor Elites under my command.'

His reign of boredom was broken by a simple transmission from one of the red Elites on the ground. After the words registered in the golden-armored Elite's mind, he jolted upright in his seat, clutching the armrests with a death-like grip.

--The Demon is here?-- The golden one questioned through the communicator, disbelief in his voice.

--Yes, leader. Yet, something troubles me. He did not engage in combat. Instead, the Demon turned and ran like a cowardly grunt-- The red-armored one replied, staring hard down the darkened tunnel the Master Chief had flown down.

--….--

--Should I give chase, Drajha-Lee?-- The red one questioned, --If I do not soon, his trail will become cold.--

--Yes, Ghlariknee. I shall send four more Elites to assist you. His reaction is curious. Perhaps… he is wounded.-- Drajha-Lee commented, adding in a more serious tone, --And Ghlariknee?--

--Yes, Leader?--

--If possible, capture the Demon. Alive.--

Ghlariknee hesitated, wanting to object but still not used to disobeying Drajha-Lee's orders. Even though he knew the strict confines of the Covenant didn't restrict them anymore from doing so.

Recognizing the pause for what it was, Drahja-Lee inquired, --Is there something troubling you, Ghlariknee?--

--Well…-- The scarlet Elite hesitated once more before spilling, --I do not understand why we should not simply eliminate him.--

--Contemplate, Ghlariknee. No more humans infest this High Charity. All their human crafts have either left or been destroyed. Even the Covenant-- -he spat the word like something bitter in his mouth- --as well as our own Rebel forces are withdrawing. Why would the Demon still be here?--

The red Elite frowned, suddenly understanding his leader's reasoning, --Very curious, indeed.--

----

'Damn', he cursed angrily within his head. He hated running from a battle. But he had no knowledge of the terrain or the enemies he faced. He also had no weapons. Granted, his fists weren't exactly an asset to be overlooked, but he still liked to know what he was dealing with before throwing himself into the heat of battle. That and the fact that he found it difficult to simply place one foot in front of the other caused him a little concern.

"That fall must've taken more out of me than I realized." He reasoned to himself as he suddenly had to lean against a wall just to stay standing. He was also very displeased to find what could only be a huge bruise along his ribs. He could only hope nothing was broken.

He swung his head to the corridor behind him as he heard the steady beat of running feet. Cursing again, Master Chief pushed himself off the wall and forced his legs into a run once again. They had caught up faster than the Spartan had expected. Yet another problem caused by his impossible survival of the fall. 'Not that I'm complaining…' Master Chief commented to himself as he grunted in pain once again.

'Why are the Covenant, I mean, the Elites chasing me?' The Spartan growled questioningly to himself. Instantly banishing the thought from his mind, the Master Chief focused on what lay ahead. Just as he was trained to do through all the years of training and fighting.

Then things went from bad to worse. A warped gargle that did not dignify the depiction of an actual 'voice' came from ahead. Skidding to a stop, Master Chief forced his screaming muscles to freeze as a small huddle of flood combat forms limped into view.

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Yeah, I know, I know. Horrible place to stop. -shrugs and smiles- If I get anything wrong, I wouldn't mind any advice people are able to give me.