Disclaimer: I do not own the machinima series Deus Ex Machina, nor do I own its characters, settings, etc. Those are all property of Jon "DigitalPh33r" Graham. Halo and its related properties such as weapons, armor, etc are property of Bungie Studios and Microsoft.

Not even two hours had passed since securing the crime scene at the Richland Chemical Facility when the ramshackle Salvation City Police Department got a call regarding two more murders. Robert Blake sent his right hand man, Rhodes, with a unit to secure and begin investigating what was going on at the new scene, a weapons storage facility. The location itself gave Blake's gut bad vibes, but that was nothing compared to the flips and spins it was doing when Rhodes called at roughly 11:31 about his scene's security footage.

"It's definitely the same trailer truck. Our killer's on the move and he looks like he's still got places to be. We can also confirm that he's armed with a couple firearms, military grade shotgun and handgun, and a crowbar. He's also got armor mods, kind that make ya faster and stronger."

"How do you know they make him stronger?" Blake asked as he ducked under the crime scene tape and headed for his personal car, preferring the security offered by a roof to the open carriage of the Hogs.

"He bashed the rent-a-cop's visor and pulverized every bone in his face with a handgun." came Rhodes's blunt reply.

"Alright, we need to put an alert out on the news or somethin'," Blake grunted as he closed the driver-side door and began pulling out. "Do we at least know who he is?"

"Footage is kinda grainy, can't make out the armor for sure, but I've got a feelin- wait, I just got the image cleaned up…yeah, it's him." Blake sighed when the answer didn't come right out.

"It's who?" he asked in frustration.

"The Hardcase," Rhodes answered calmly. "He's moved up from stealing credits to stealing weapons. Now's he's got a missile and some kinda chemical weapon."

"We finally IDed that," Blake informed his fellow lawman as he turned on the bubble-light on his car's dashboard and picked up his speed. "VX Nerve Agent."

"Ok, how bad is that?"

"Remember the guy with the foam in his mouth? The only one who wasn't stabbed? Imagine a whole sector of the city like that, without the tire marks."

The com channel Robert Blake and Rhodes were using was supposed to be a secure police-only channel that was only accessible to, obviously, police personnel. As they discussed confidential matters regarding what had become a very large murder investigation that was quickly heading into counter-terrorism territory, however, they never knew they had other ears listening in on every single word. Michael Jacobs wasn't sure how to feel about how easy it was to hack into said channel. It was good because now he could help John with vital information to keep him ahead of the cops…but these guys were the city's law enforcement. If it was easy for him, how easy could it be for others who knew the right buttons to press?

"Alright, I'll get on it," Rhodes replied to his new assignment of gathering traffic-camera footage to find the trail of the trailer truck driven by the nutjob on the loose with a few guns and a crowbar. And that knife. No one had said anything about it on the police channel, but Michael was willing to bet money the Hardcase had that knife with him. He didn't know why that knife bothered him so much, and he never figured out even as he hacked the city's camera system and found the footage Rhodes hadn't even gotten a chance to start looking for yet.

"Got it," Mike said into a com channel of his own. "John, he pulled into the Wayside Docks area about forty minutes ago. I can't see inside the compound but I did see other vehicles heading in, none of 'em came back out."

"Cronies?" John asked, the humming of a Mongoose audible under his voice.

"I think, but get this: their plates match those issued to vehicles used by the mayor's office for government affairs. These are Owen's guys. Apparently he likes what the Hardcase is doing."

"Mike, are you there? Put the damn Lays down or get a new com set and say that again!"

"Yeah, they're cronies! They're Owen's cronies, but they're definitely cronies!" Mike repeated with frustration.

"Alright! Jeeze, you don't need to get so pissy about it."

"Pissy? You're the one who-"

"What? I can't hear- nevermind, listen, I'll call up Blake and let him know to get a fast response team out to the docks. I'm on my way to break up a party."

"What? I can't hear- nevermind, listen, I'll call up Blake and let him know to get a fast response team out to the docks. I'm on my way to break up a party."

The guy on the computer didn't even bother listening to the geek's reply before shutting off his system and turning to his new boss, the one the real boss told him to listen to for the time being. The new boss in question nodded that yes, he heard that, and the way he pulled the knife out of the sheath on his chest and played with it gave the impression he was looking forward to what was about to go down.

Blake was just about to make his last turn en route to the news station when his com rang with an unidentified caller. The voice that answered was the last one he expected to hear.

"Blake, this is your friend," the man he knew was Deus Ex Machina said. "You need to get a team out to the Wayside Docks right now. Your nutjob killer's got himself some nasty equipment out there, and he's got back-up. I'm gonna need some of my own." The channel cut off before Blake could reply, and so instead he pulled a u-ey in the middle of the street and put the call out.

John ditched the Mongoose a few blocks from the docks, wanting as much stealth as possible. From across the street, his night vision made out the armed men guarding the main gate. John decided to search for alternatives before risking a fight with them that could alert the others to his presence. A few minutes later he found that the surrounding fence was lined with barbed wire. His armor would prevent injury and only suffer some scratched paint, but he could still get entangled and make too much noise trying to get loose. But right behind him, John had a basis for a plan.

Another few minutes later, John stood in a fourth floor window of a business office only a wide alley's width away from the fence. On the other side of that fence was one of many warehouses. John couldn't jump over the fence from his current spot, that'd be ridiculous…but he could slide.

John pointed his fist at the sky over the warehouse, his HUD plotting the trajectory he needed and telling him where to aim. When the reticule turned red, he fired his grappling hook and watched it soar through the air, the black line trailing behind it and unfurling from his gauntlet. With his HUD magnified, John saw the hook arc, dive, impact, and stick to the warehouse's wall, allowing him to make the line as taut as possible before flicking the switch Mike showed him and disconnecting the line, which now had a hook added to the end. Racking the hook onto the curtain rod over the window, John grabbed the rope he found in a janitor's closet. He draped it over the zip line, gripped both ends, and was preparing to jump out the window when the chip-crunching static came through his com.

"You really need a new com, Mike," John grumbled before jumping. Gravity did the rest, and John held on tight as he zipped down the slope of black line. Above him, the rope whined with burning friction, and the fence grew closer and closer by the second. John actually had to raise his feet to clear the barbed wire, and he had just barely done so when the rope he held snapped, dropping him to the ground like a rock. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, and so he had no reply to the next transmission Mike made, which came through clearly as day.

"I told you that'd happen."

It had been nine o'clock sharp when the Hardcase and his two loaned goons (who'd never see another day of work again) had broken into the Richland Chemical Facility, starting a night of theft and violence that couldn't lead to anywhere good. It was a little past twelve-thirty in the morning when Robert Blake pulled to a stop behind a Hog parked just around the corner from the Wayside Docks. He parked and turned off the ignition before stepping out, his eyes watching the six men in blue armor standing around the back of said Hog. When he closed his door, one of the minglers tossed him a handgun he caught with ease.

"B variant, huh?" Blake asked as he joined them, turning the M6G Magnum over in his hands. The B variant seemed, at first glance, identical to the C variant that was standard issue to the UNSC Marine Corps and the Salvation City Police Department. But it had a slightly shorter barrel, a faster rate of fire (as fast as the operator could pull the trigger), and an under-barrel smart-link 2x scope. Really its only shortcoming when compared to the C variant was its decreased accuracy. "What do we got?"

"At least four guys standing around the main gate with automatic weapons," Bardwell, the officer in charge of the fast response team, reported as he took Blake's offered C variant and placed it in the Hog for safekeeping during the raid. He was one of the older members of the force, and while he hadn't enlisted in the UNSC after his home world was glassed and he relocated to Earth, he had been trained in the Colonial Militia, and so had the most experience with military-grade weapons other than Blake and a former Marine whose contract had expired. "Not sure what they got in there, but they don't want anyone getting in. The fact alone that they've got assault rifles in public is enough reason for a takedown."

Blake nodded as he listened before walking to the corner of the building that obstructed his view from the target area, Bardwell right behind him. Blake peered around the corner and observed the fenced perimeter and guarded gate down the street.

"What kind of rifles do you think they have?" Blake asked.

"Can't get a good look in this lighting, but their silhouettes look like something from the MA5 series," Bardwell answered.

"I take it your militia unit was trained by Marines,"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"In the Army we call it an MA37, and we never adopted the replacement rifles the Marines did."

"So?"

"So, I've read up on the MA5B and C, how they're different and how to use 'em, but I don't have any actual experience with 'em. I was hoping you did."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I never even got to touch the DMRs they issued our unit sharpshooters. I just handled the old MA5, the Magnum, and the M90 Shotgun."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, and we're gonna need the firepower those rifles have."

The two senior officers returned to the rest of the fast response team and began setting out the plan of attack. They were just getting to the contingencies when they heard gunfire from the docks.

John's fall on his ass had been easy to recover from, and thankfully no one had heard his armor slamming into pavement. Using his night vision and the midnight darkness, he progressed through the compound, using various crates and warehouses as cover. For almost ten minutes, he found nothing…until he reached the docks themselves by the water where, amidst scattered columns of crates covered in tarps and storage barrels, he found what could only be described as a small camp of men in civilian armor with various forms of military grade weapons. It was the only section of the docks with lighting, and so John had to deactivate his night vision to see the set-up that dominated the center of the scene: a single portable-missile launch pad, which was surrounded by armed goons. The only ones who weren't packing heat seemed occupied with transferring what looked like giant ropes of reflective green grapes into an inner compartment of a missile.

"That's the VX he stole from the Richland Facility," Michael explained over the com, his transmissions clear for once. "He's turning a standard missile into a nerve gas delivery system. Anyone not killed by the explosion or shrapnel gets a major dose of it and become as good as dead."

"He's gonna wanna hit a place with as many people as possible," John thought aloud. "What're his most likely targets, Mike?"

"Well, there're a few major neighborhoods in the missile's effective range…aw hell, who am I kidding, any part of the entire city and its outer limits are in that range! He might as well be playing darts while standing right in front of the board!"

"Ok then, narrow it down to major areas that'll affect the city as a whole. Water treatment plants, hospitals, anything you can think of."

"Ok…he's probably gonna wait until tomorrow to use it, sometime in the afternoon when the public areas are packed with people. Man there're a lot of options…Salvation Regional, City Hall, the Police Headquarters…wait…John, can you see anything across the bay from where you are?"

John had to move to a few new places of cover, but eventually he could see through the fence by the water to the lighted city skyline…and the one structure that stood out and shone the brightest.

"Wheel Tower…" John muttered in realization.

"It kinda makes sense," Michael muttered as he ran various numbers through his computers. "During lunch hour the plaza at the bottom's packed with sightseers, not to mention the tower itself. But he could get more people at all sorts of other places…"

"But think of it Mike: how often does something bad ever at Wheel Tower and the plaza?"

"Almost never,"

"Exactly. And this is more than bad, it's catastrophic. The tower collapses, anyone nearby gets fried by the missile or shredded by the shrapnel, and then there's the gas…depending on how the wind's blowing tomorrow-"

He was cut off by a lead pipe slamming into the back of his head, dropping him to the ground in a daze. John couldn't see anything but black spots and stars.

"John! John, what happened?" Mike was shouting.

"Well well, how's it hangin' Johnny-boy?" the Hardcase jeered as he leisurely strolled around John's form as it struggled to his hands and knees. "You guys never disappoint to show up when you're expected to. Now come on, your fans are waitin'!" The Hardcase grabbed John by the back of the neck with his free hand and dragged him out into the middle of the goon-gaggle where everyone was now gathered in a sort of half circle, with the missile system completing it. After he was roughly thrown down onto the concrete in the middle of the bright lights, John realized he was surrounded.

"That's right Johnny-boy, no way out," the Hardcase grinned as he pulled John's Magnum off his thigh armor and tossed it to someone in the crowd. "It's you and me, and our own little arena of the worst your city's got ta offer. We're like gladiators without the faggotry!" he was striding around the "arena", speaking to the onlookers when everyone knew who he was really addressing. By the time John struggled to his feet, the Hardcase was standing across from him, the small space of the arena's diameter between them. "Now, since you seem to have somewhat of a handicap, I'll give ya a little break." John barely caught the lead pipe the Hardcase tossed to him. It seemed this was gonna be a matter of weapon versus fist. "So what are ya waitin' for? Let's have some fun!" the Hardcase challenged.

John scanned his surroundings and didn't like his choices. His last experience fighting the Hardcase had been a bad one, but this time he had a weapon. But the worst part was the mob of cronies surrounding them both. Guys who all, at the end of the day, answered to Derek Owen, a very powerful man who wanted him dead. And they all had guns.

Seeing no better option, John rushed the Hardcase and swung the pipe at his head. For a brief moment, he thought it'd connect, but this thought was dashed by the Hardcase's hands, one of which deflected John's own upwards as he ducked, the other connecting with a sharp uppercut that knocked John on his back, the pipe sent flying into the air before it landed and bounced with a clang on the cold cement. John pulled himself up just in time to catch the pipe again, but this time the Hardcase didn't wait for him to make the first move. He bum-rushed John and shoulder-tackled him to the ground before straddling his waist and laying into his face with a flurry of punches. John didn't even notice when the Hardcase hopped off and started prowling around the arena while the goons jeered and taunted for him to get up and take some more. John managed to get onto one knee when the Hardcase sent a leg toward his face. This time, John came out on top and caught the leg before throwing himself into his opponent, sending them both onto the ground. They began rolling and fighting for the top as the crowd cheered for blood. John managed to throw the Hardcase across the arena, knocking a few goons down in the process. He scampered over and grabbed the pipe, just in time to hear the running footsteps of the Hardcase coming in for another attack. Without even thinking, he spun and swung, grateful to hear and feel it connect with the side of the Hardcase's helmet, sending him onto his own face. John was preparing himself for the next rush when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned in time to see a goon raise a Battle Rifle and aim it at him.

Acting on instinct, John dropped just in time to dodge a burst which dropped another goon in a bloody heap. The now dead goon's weapon, an SMG, was slung out of his hand and slid across the ground. John caught it as it went by and started spraying and running, cutting a path through the ring of humanity and running for cover while bullets bounced off his energy shields and into the goons around him. Just before his shields failed, John dived behind a crate and dropped, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his senses.

"John! John, are you okay?" Mike was shouting.

"I'm fine," John groaned. "Just peachy- aw, Christ my jaw."

His expression of pain was punctuated by the sound of an engine increasing in volume, followed by screeching tires and even more gunfire. John peered out of his cover and saw a team of police officers, five armed with Magnums and two with Assault Rifles, engaging the mob of goons from the cover near their transport, a civilian Hog.

Robert Blake didn't know what it was they found on the docks, but he didn't like it. A helluva lot more men with guns than the ones guarding the gate, and what looked like a missile. Oh hell, it actually was a missile!

Blake had just leaped out of the Hog and into cover behind a crate when bullets began flying over him. The weight of the gate guard's Assault Rifle (which was, fortunately for him, an MA37/MA5) was comforting as he assessed the situation.

"Bardwell!" Blake alerted through his com. "Take two guys and start clearing our right flank! I'll call for back-up, then take the others and head left! We'll get 'em in a pincer movement!"

"Got it, we're moving!"

Blake then stood and fired a burst in the direction of the incoming gunfire, managing to catch at least two guys who hadn't been smart enough to find cover. He then ducked back down and put out the call for back-up. They'd take thirty minutes to show up.

"Alright guys, we need to move!"

At roughly 12:57 am, the Wayside Docks became a warzone. Police officers and petty criminals fired on each other with various firearms, all with the intent of walking out alive. A good number wouldn't. One of those unfortunates was a man named Fester, whose final act in this world was arming the missile as ordered by the Hardcase. He'd just finished inputting the code when a round from an M6G Magnum entered his skull from above and behind his right ear.

John Brent shoved the body aside so as to give his helmet camera a clear view of the controls, which were covered in blood and brain matter. Mike had just barely seen them when the Hardcase bragged the back of John's head and slammed it into the controls with enough force to shatter the keyboard and display screen.

"Pretty cool, huh Johnny-boy?" the Hardcase asked, his eyes fixed on the sky and the city in the distance. He didn't seem to care about the bullet-storm around him at all. "It's almost biblical. Poetic, even." He then grabbed the lead pipe off the ground and started stalking toward John. One second, John was by the missile launch system, the next he was by a civilian Hog. For a moment, he thought it was the cops'. But then he saw that it was, in fact, an actual Warthog, complete with the machine gun in the rear. And a tow wench and cable on the front bumper…

"Think of the fireworks, the headlines, it's almost like a celebration…a bicentennial, with one hell of a bang to end it all! Ooh, I'm just giddy with anticipa-"

"Freeze!" a voice shouted, that of a police officer with a Magnum trained on the Hardcase's back. "Drop your weapon and step-" He never got to finish. Faster than a fly on meth, the Hardcase hurled the pipe, which collided with the officer's face, sending him staggering. The Hardcase charged, drawing his knife with blood on his mind. His left hand gripped the cop's throat in a vice grip while his right, fueled by the momentum of his run, thrust the knife upward into the cop's crotch and lifted him by both over his head. John used the ditraction to his advantage: he fired his grappling hook into one of the missile's tailfins, then disconnected the line from his gauntlet and hooked it to the Warthog's tow cable. As the missile actually began to lift into the air, John could only run and pray his idea worked.

The Hardcase, after nabbing his poor victim in the worst way possible, had continued running with the screaming man over his head before chucking him with all his strength off the docks and into the water below. He didn't need to be a mind reader to know the knife hurt worse coming out than going it. After sending the schmuck to his watery grave, he flicked his knife to rid it of the blood and pieces of testicle or scrotum plumbing that stuck to its blade. He had just re-sheathed it when he saw the missile fly over, a black line visible in the glow of its fiery trail. Turning, he saw the tow cable of a Warthog unfurling at dangerously fast speeds. Looking around quickly, he saw a fire axe and grabbed it before sprinting toward the 'hog with the full intent of severing that cable like an Achilles tendon.

The Warthog jerked into the air and flew past the Hardcase before he could reach it, and he could only stand in dumb disbelief as he watched it follow the missile. Somewhere over the bay between the Wayside Docks and Wheel Tower, the flame of the missile's jet suddenly took a weird angle, and the Hardcase could only watch as it was dragged into the bay by the weight of the jeep. There was a dull thump followed by the sound of roaring water as it mushroomed upwards from the explosion, followed by a very small earthquake.

The Hardcase watched this all, unaware and uncaring of the firefight still going on behind him. A voice then spoke up beside him, that of the computer guy who'd gotten into Michael Jacobs's com channel.

"Now what?"

The answer he received was the blade of the fire axe impacting with his face. He dropped faster than a sack of bricks and never even flinched. The Hardcase looked around the docks at the action before slinking off into the shadows.

By 2:15 am, the SCPD had secured the docks with very few prisoners. Those who hadn't fought to the death had fled in vehicles stashed throughout the docks. Those who had been captured were more often complaining about a bullet hole or two that would require medical attention. There was no sign of the missile, though they had seen it explode in the water, so that was one less thing to worry about, at least. Unfortunately, there was also no sign of the Hardcase, the whole reason for this escapade.

On the plus side though, the SCPD "confiscated" several military grade weapons for implementation in its severely lacking arsenal, and a very horrendous disaster had been averted, and thousands of lives saved. All in all it could've been a lot worse.

For some of the involved parties, the worst was yet to come.

Author's Notes: Most Halo fans know this stuff, but some don't and so here's some clarification on those darn "MA's" and "M6's".

MA37/MA5 – Assault Rifle from Halo: Reach

MA5B – Assault Rifle from Halo: Combat Evolved

MA5C – Assault Rifle from Halo 3 and Halo 3: ODST

M6G B Variant – Magnum from Halo: Reach

M6G C Variant – Magnum from Halo 3