HEART AND ARMOR
A Halo Fanfiction
Alienated and alone, separated from the rest of humanity, a Spartan must decide what to do with his life after the finale of the Human-Covenant War.
Disclaimer: The plot of this story is set in the Halo universe; however, liberties with some aspects of established canon have been taken to better suit the advancement of the plot itself.
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
Chapter 1: The Last Day
Chapter 2: Shunning of the Savior
Chapter 3: UNSC - Joliet City Branch
Chapter 1:
The Last Day
Beep, beep, beep…beep…beep…beeeeeeep…
The sounds cut through the misty clouds of my dreaming mind, an unwelcome intrusion of reality in that otherworldly realm. One moment I was drifting peacefully in sleep; the next moment I was ejected from that state, dispelled like an escape pod from a doomed ship. A rushing sound filled my ears, and within seconds, I was fully awake.
With a tired groan, I stretched, kicking off the covers of the bed. Turning on my side, I faced the beeping alarm clock on the nightstand. The light display on the clock was blinking sporadically, the numbers changing and flickering. A broken, uneven beeping emanated from the speakers.
Exasperated, I reached over and turned the alarm off. Crappy, crappy, crappy, I thought, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I really need to change the batteries on that thing. Or better yet, get a new one. At this rate, I’m going to spend more on batteries than on the actual clock. I lethargically padded over to the bathroom to start up my morning shower, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I have to admit that several months of this soft living really degraded me. I glanced at the bathroom mirror, noting the countless number of scars and bruises on my body. I could be considered in top physique, I guess; certainly up to the standards of any normal military man. But it was something inside more than out on the surface that was degraded.
Back when the war ended, some organizations had rallied for money to be donated to all participants of the SPARTAN program, mainly as a gesture of thanks. SPARTAN-III’s were included, of course, so I got enough money and resources to last me a good part of a lifetime. But seriously, you should see what those SPARTAN-II’s got. Their money will last a lifetime, guaranteed.
I let the warm shower water run over me. Closing my eyes, I stood there for a minute, savoring the comfort of the moment. Still, like I was saying before, I couldn’t help but feel, well, a bit out of place, here in the city, living the normal civilian life. Everything was familiar, like the cars, the billboards, the buildings, the parks. But everything seemed so alien at the same time. Even more alien than the Covenant, if that doesn’t sound completely crazy.
Let me put it this way. To fully defeat an enemy, you need to understand said enemy. Even seven years fighting the war has made me fairly familiar with the Covenant and the values that they hold most dear. The Elites’ sense of honor, the Prophets’ faith, deluded faith, but faith nonetheless. It all made sense to me, their motives for what they did. It is actually quite impressive, in a way, how they continued to stay loyal to that cause for such a long time. Only towards the end did they start to splinter.
I could not make sense out of this new life that I was leading. The social pleasantries, the behavioral expectations. Hell, even something as simple as getting out of that soft bed in the morning to be greeted by shining sunlight and a nice air-conditioned breeze. What was I doing? It felt, again, more alien to me than the Covenant. Who were these people that I had spent a large part of my life, as well as risking my life, to protect? Was I even a part of them at all? Was I, in their eyes, just another nameless member of an alien species, the only difference being that I wore a human skin?
I shut off the water and slowly got out of the shower. Yes, I thought to myself, drying my medium-length black hair. Today is the day. Today is the day that all of that will change.
Within a few minutes, I was dressed in my best attire, the very picture of good presentation. As I walked over to the door, my eyes turned, as always, towards the dog tags on the mantelpiece, put on display inside a glass case. Even from across the room, my enhanced vision allowed me to read the lettering on them. Not that I needed to. I think I would know my own name, after all. “FABIAN-B174,” it read.
A feeling of purpose flooded through my heart when I saw the dog tags. With renewed confidence, I pulled the front door open, turning away from the tags on the mantelpiece. Today will be the last day that I will ever be a SPARTAN.
Chapter 2:
Shunning of the Savior
It was a stunning day outside. The sunlight that had shined through my bedroom window now gleamed in its full glory, giving the buildings towering above the busy street a lustrous look. I inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh morning breeze. This was a great day to begin a new road in my life. I couldn’t help but feel really optimistic about this entire thing.
I always preferred walking to taking a car or riding the city monorail. Ever since the war ended, my mind seemed to want for things to go at a slower pace, if that makes sense. A chance to take things all in at your own pace. Walking helped to do that, in my opinion. Besides, the local UNSC headquarters weren’t that far from my apartment. In fact, I thought as I turned a corner, it should be just around here.
Sure enough, the imposing structure loomed before me, taking up most of the space on the street and forcing the traffic to divert to either side of the gray building. The breeze picked up, sending a few fallen leaves flying towards my face. Ducking my head, I stepped up the pace, walking quickly towards the building.
Suddenly, my ears caught the unmistakable sound of people shouting. I raised my head and peered towards the source of the sound. A few moments later, I saw them. A large group of people had gathered in front of the city capitol building, located right next to the UNSC headquarters. As I drew nearer, I could see that most of them were holding up signs and posters, angry yet determined looks on their faces. Some of them had even laid out blankets and sheets on the front lawn of the government building, sitting down and talking to their fellow protesters while the others shouted in a unified call.
I should’ve known that the good weather would’ve encouraged the protesters to come out and camp in front of the capitol all day. Calling themselves the Athenian Organization, these people declared themselves enemies of the SPARTAN program. Well, that’s not entire correct. The Athenians were against the administering of basic rights, primarily voting, to the Spartans. Forming at the end of the war and gaining prominence and influence through these past few months, the Athenians were definitely a power to be reckoned with, politically speaking. If online statistics were anything to go by, they were gaining more supporters every week. By this point, you couldn’t even walk near a government-owned building without seeing a group of them camped out where they would be most visible. It was annoying, to say the least. The Spartans were the people who were at the frontlines of the war. They were the saviors of humanity as we know it. Why should we be shunned?
I quickly walked towards the UNSC building, trying to remain as discreet as possible. These people had an uncanny sense of picking out Spartans from a crowd, even when those Spartans were trying to blend in with the others. Still, as I drew closer to the crowd, my eyes automatically looked towards the signs that the protesters were holding.
NO GOVERNMENT PUPPETS ALLOWED!
AUGMENTATION = BRAINWASHING!
A FREE NON-SPARTAN SOCIETY!
THIS IS NOT SPARTA!
My mouth twitching in disapproval, I edged my way past the crowd, taking care to keep my head down, facing forward. The end of the crowd quickly came to view, and the safety of the UNSC building beckoned to me. Almost there, I thought.
Suddenly, through some strange intuition born out of years in the war, I felt someone staring at me intently. Before I could stop myself, I turned to glance behind me. My eyes made contact with those of one of the protesters. His head slightly tilted to the side in contemplation, he stared at me with squinting eyes, his sign hanging limply by his side. “Hey, you!” he called out to me. “You’re a Spartan, aren’t you?”
Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to answer. I began walking towards the UNSC building again, forcing myself to not look back at the protester. But it wasn’t any use; my heart sank as I heard the same protester shout out to his comrades, “Hey, guys! I’m pretty sure that that guy is a Spartan!”
For a moment, I heard the rallying shouts of the crowd die down. The street became ten times quieter without the noise of the crowd; only the sounds of the traffic filled the air. Then, as quickly as it arrived, the silence was broken. The crowd’s yells filled the air again, this time accompanied by the sounds of tens of moving feet. Within seconds, my path to the UNSC building was blocked by the protesters, all of them throwing questions and shouts at me.
“Are you a Spartan? Answer me, -Yoink!-!”
“Government puppet! Why’re you corrupting our free nation?”
“You’re just as bad as the Covenant!”
I pushed back the feelings of growing anger and began pushing through the crowd. Sneering faces leered out at me, the signs and posters thrusting out into my face. I elbowed several people aside, making my way steadily through the crowd. The fact that I towered over them by a respectable height probably helped too.
Suddenly, my peripheral vision caught one of the protesters force his way through the crowd purposefully. Within moments, he reached me. With a cry, he jumped out at me, rage filling his face. As I turned to face my attacker, things seemed to slow down. I saw the fist flying towards my stomach, the knuckles shining in the bright sunlight. I smoothly moved to the side, dodging the attack with ease. I swept my leg against his ankles, tripping him and sending him to the ground. Before he hit, I grabbed hold of his armpits, softening his fall. Without breaking a sweat, I turned away and started making my way to the UNSC building. The crowd parted before me, staring at me strangely.
As I walked quickly away from the crowd, my mind brought up to entire fiasco again. The swinging fist, the tripping, and finally, the blossoming uneasiness, even fear, in the crowd’s eyes as I walked off. I couldn’t help but feel regret, even though logic told me that I had no other choice. The daylight seemed to fade a bit as I thought, What am I doing here?
Chapter 3:
UNSC - Joliet City Branch
A cool, air-conditioned breeze hit my face as the glass doors slid open. Straightening out my suit, I stepped inside the minimalistic, sterile-white lobby. A series of benches lined the walls, several coffee tables occupying the middle of the room. Bright lights were integrated into the ceiling, illuminating the lobby with their artificial glow, contrasting sharply with the natural sunlight outside. A reception desk stood on the far side of the room, opposite the glass doors.
I stepped quietly over to the desk, trying not to break the dead silence in the lobby. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman, probably in her late forties, with horn-rimmed glasses, noticed me as I walked over. I offered a smile at her and said, “Hi, how are you?”
Smiling politely, she responded, “I’m well, thank you. Welcome to the UNSC Joliet City branch. May I help you with something?”
“Yes, I’d like to see Dr. Martin Freedman, if he’s available.”
She turned to her computer and started typing. “Do you have an appointment, sir?”
“Well, no, but…”
She glanced up at me, disapproval edging into her voice. “I’m sorry, but Dr. Freedman is quite occupied at the moment. If you don’t have an appointment, there’s really nothing I can do.”
“Are you able to call him right now?”
“Am I able to? Yes, I am.”
“Okay, could you call him and tell him it’s Fabian? I’m sure he’ll invite me right in.”
Her mouth tightened as she considered the suggestion. I had to get her approval somehow. Quickly, I added, “If he doesn’t know me, then I’ll leave and make an appointment for some other time.”
After a moment, she nodded and picked up the phone. She quickly dialed a number and waited, glancing up at me sporadically. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. I could hear the faint sound of the phone’s earpiece ringing.
Someone on the other end seemed to pick up. The receptionist, breaking the silence, said politely, “Dr. Freedman? I’m sorry to bother you, but someone called Fabian is here to see you.” She listened for a moment and then turned to me, covering the mouthpiece of the phone. “He says he doesn’t know anyone with the name of Fabian, sir.”
Confused, I said in a trailing voice, “That’s not possible…”
“I think it’s time for you to leave, sir.”
Suddenly, another idea hit me. “One last try, please. Tell Dr. Freedman that it’s Spartan B174, not Fabian.”
I have to admit, this lady did a good job of hiding her surprise. Without missing a beat, disapproval in her expression, she uncovered the mouthpiece and said, “He says that he’s a Spartan, sir. B174.” After a few moments, she nodded. “He’ll be right in.” She turned to me and tilted her head towards a door behind the reception desk. “Head through the door and straight across the atrium. Dr. Freedman’s office should be the second door on the right.” I smiled at her politely in thanks and stepped towards the door.
A beam of bright, natural sunlight hit me as the door opened. I blinked, stunned by the sudden change. My eyes quickly began to adjust to the new lighting. Once they did, I stared in wonder around the room, what the receptionist mentioned as the atrium. Contrasting drastically with the small, sterile reception lobby, the atrium was the very definition of open space. Its ceiling soared high up into the air, letting bright sunlight filter through the large, circular glass window placed at the center of the concrete ceiling, encompassing nearly half of the ceiling space. I could spot the adhesive weaving in the glass itself, enabling to be bulletproof. Despite the concrete and stone motif of the atrium, the entire structure reminded me of an airport.
Still, as I shut the door to the reception lobby and began walking slowly towards the opposite side of the atrium, glancing around at the architecture of the place, I could see that underneath the welcoming, civilian look, there was still a significant military influence within the atrium. The low and long, yet wide tunnel at the end of the atrium, somewhat reminiscent of a road tunnel, was framed by a towering stone wall, extending all the way up to the ceiling of the atrium. Despite its attempts to blend in with the civilian-like atmosphere, there was no mistaking the various locations for strategic height advantages for whoever came in through the front door. My mind suddenly brought up the memory of the decommissioned UNSC Commonwealth during my time on Reach, before it was glassed and I was ordered off the planet.
Due to the early hours of the morning, I could only see several personnel drifting through the atrium. Some were walking with purpose across the large room, carrying sheaves of paper or bags filled with who-knows-what. Others were standing casually near the tables and booths surrounding the sides of the atrium, talking with coworkers and colleagues while eating breakfast.
By now, my feet had taken me to the opening of the tunnel on the far side of the atrium. The defensive wall extended for a considerable distance past the opening of the tunnel itself, casting a shadow that blocked the sun from reaching the area. A series of bright lights illuminated the otherwise pitch-black concrete tunnel. Several wide metal doors lined the sides of the tunnel. Remembering what the receptionist said, I opened the second door on the right. Just before entering, I scanned the sign right above the door. It read, “SPARTAN De-Augmentation.”