Marcus stood still, looking at the scene before him. In front of him was a barren waste land, marked with large artillery craters and destroyed defensive positions. Sand bags with destroyed machine guns were littered on some of the hill tops, whereas bodies filled ravines. Some craters still smoked from the tremendous blast of the artillery, while others just provided cover for whoever felt like using it while they still lived. Off in the distance was a war torn city; fires lite up its skyline like a torch to a pyre. Anti-air rounds pocketed the skyline every now and then, and machine gun fire was heard in the distance. Bodies lay before the Spartan’s feet; anyone who was human had plasma burns marking their bodies. Some missed limbs while others looked more like Swiss cheese then men. Those that weren’t human were riddled with bullets; their wounds still poured blood on the already war tour field. Grunts lay everywhere, marked by the occasional Jackal; few Elites laid dead on this field. Marcus had not been a part of this fight; he had only watched. He now stood here, looking at what he could have prevented. He fell to his knees and held himself, weeping over the fallen.
He looked down at his hands, shaking from his grief and pain. ‘Why can I never save them?! WHY?’ He stood and looked towards the sky, flinging his arms behind him in rage.
“ITS WHAT YOU MADE ME FOR ISN’T IT?! TO SAVE OTHERS?! SO WHY CAN’T I? Why…why can’t I save them…?” He collapsed once more to the ground, shaking. He looked around him through teary eyes. Suddenly, something caught his eye. A hand was in the air, moving back in forth. ‘Impossible’. Marcus got from where he stood and sprinted to where the hand was. As he grew closer, he could see a body still connected to the hand. Marcus praised whatever gods there were as he drew nearer. He knelt down to the marine, already calling in the med evac. He looked down at the face of the marine and was shocked. He held in his arms a woman, bleeding from two leg wounds and a upper right chest would. Her armor was ragged and torn, and the souls of her boots were worn out. She had been fighting for a long time. He held her there, whispering comforts to her as she lay there in her own blood. It was everywhere, and covered most anything now. How she hadn’t bleed out yet Marcus didn’t know. Her helmet was rooked on her blond head, and it looked like it didn’t really fit her. She coughed and looked up at him through brown eyes. They sat there awhile, neither really talking, Marcus just looking down at her while she slowly died. He could do nothing but wait. He did have a few cans of bio-foam, but at this stage it wouldn’t do any good.
She began to shift, and with her last bit of strength reached out her hand towards Marcus’s face, or where it would be; it was concealed by his helmet and visor. She clasped his head in her shaking hand and held it there, seeming to look past the visor and straight into Marcus’s soul. She coughed somewhat, blood oozing from her lips. She began to speak, but choked on her words. Marcus shifted his weight and brought forth a canteen, washing away what blood he could and letting the woman take sips. Finally able to talk, she spoke two words to him.
“T-thank y-you...” After that she let her hand fall to the ground. Her eyes glassed over her as a deep cold took her body. Marcus sat there as the life finally drained from the woman’s body. Marcus sat there for a few moments, shaking with rage and pain. This woman had died for him, and others. She had given her life so that others would live. Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? So why then did he sit here alive and this woman dead?
‘Why….WHY?’
Marcus woke with a start. His head was drenched in sweat, and his whole body was shaking. He quickly wrapped his arms around his body and doubled over, weeping silently. He remembered that woman as if it had happened yesterday; her face was so peaceful in her final moments. What did she thank me for? I couldn’t save her..... Wiping his eyes, he looked up to see the girls watching him with worried expressions. Fluttershy sat next to him, reaching out a hoof. He drew away quickly, scaring the mare slightly. He shook his head and walked to the end of the train car. He and the girls were on the train back to Canterlot when he had fallen asleep. He reached the end of the train car and exited out the door. He stood there leaning against the railing breathing heavily. He shut his eyes closed and tried to calm himself; he was hyperventilating and his body was trembling. He finally sat down against the wall of the car, holding his head in his hands. He tried to breath, but it felt like a thousand tons of weight was just sitting on his chest. His sight began to blur and Marcus felt dizzy.
Suddenly the door to the car opened up and a figured stepped out. Again he drew away, but this time the figure persisted, drawing him into a hug. He knew who it was, and he tried to get away, but she held strong. Mare’s stronger then she looks. Finally giving in, he rested his head against her shoulder while she tried to calm him. He sat there, her hooves around his neck while he silently cried, letting out all of his pain and anguish out. She just sat there taking everything in. Marcus thought of everyone he ever knew, everyone he left behind, and all he saw die. Coughing a bit, Marcus drew away carefully, nodding his head. Fluttershy sat there, frowning at him slightly. She worried for him. Finally getting enough courage to speak, Fluttershy stood and asked something that had been on her mind for a while.
“Marcus….what h-happened to you? Where you come from?” Sitting there, Marcus rested his head against the train car’s wall, looking up at the night sky. Apparently the train ride back to Ponyville had taken most of the day, and Luna’s moon now rose in the great blackness of the night sky. He stared at it for a while before answering her question. He didn’t really know where to begin to start, so he started from the beginning. He told her where he was from, and what he had gone through as a child. He told her of the UNSC and his augmentations, and the wars he fought against the rebels. Then he told her about the war with the Covenant. He spook about the dream he had the night Fluttershy woke him, and the one he had just had.
“That woman…she couldn’t have been older than twenty two. And she just lay there, dyeing and not even caring. She knew I couldn’t help….and she still thanked me…why?” Fluttershy sniffed, wiping away tears she began to speak, trying to think of something to say. The whole tale was so…so sad! It was the worst life she could ever imagine, and he lived it! Finally a thought occurred to her.
“You…you say that all the other Spartan II’s were emotionless, right? Would they have stopped for that woman?” Marcus sat there for a bit, and then shook his head, speaking.
“No, I suppose they wouldn’t.” Fluttershy then smiled at him.
“Then maybe she was thanking you for just being there. She had someone with her in her final moments.” Marcus sat there for a moment, letting that sink in. He mouth began to twitch a little, and a small grin crept onto his face. He looked at Fluttershy and drew her closer. She lay down on his lap, and looked up at the night sky with him. They were both silent as the train made its way home.
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Chrysalis held back tears as she looked around her. Burning, everything burning! Her precious changelings slaughtered before her. She looked around, watching as those who lived ran for the lives, only to be cut down by more fire. A few days ago, a large object, larger than anything Chrysalis had ever seen came shooting out of the sky, trailing a large tail of smoke. Thinking it might be a dragon attack, she did what any sensible ruler would do; she sent in a task force to eliminate the threat. But when they did not return, she became worried. Then there were reports of disappearances, and fires started throughout her kingdom. At first she thought they were isolated incidents, but they started to become common, and centralised. She could do nothing though, her power lost when those elements of harmony destroyed her horn. She was powerless as the beasts came into her home and wrecked everything. They burned everyone alive, and destroyed her home. Now she kneeled in front of one of them, watching in horror as he finished off those that were left. Then it turned to her.
It was one of the strangest things the changeling queen had ever seen. It was reptilian in nature, and stood at least 7 feet tall. It had small, beady black eyes, and had four mandibles which were covered in teeth. It grumbled something to his companion, who stepped forward and bowed. He then walked over, and grabbed her by the throat, throwing her at the larger ones feet. He looked down at her, grumbles emanating from his throat. It was laughing at her! He bent over, and picked her up by her throat, squeezing. Chrysalis couldn't breathe, and this things grip was strong. She struggled, but try as she might she could not get free. She looked back into its eyes, staring deeply.
“W-what are you?” she asked. It merely laughed, and brought something out from its hip. It hissed open, and Chrysalis felt a sharp, burning sensation in her abdomen. Slowly, ever so slowly, the beast stabbed her with its weapon, drawing a quick, painful breath from the queen. Once the weapon was hilt deep, he let go of her, letting her fall to the ground. He laughed, enjoying the days kill. Uze’ Kenzu, Ship Master of the World of Fire and acting Field Master, stared into the eyes of his kill as its final breaths were taken. The changeling queen was dead. A Sangheili major walked up to him, and bowed deeply, knelling before his ship master.
“Ship Master, the technicians say the ship will be operational within the week. 3 days’ time is all the ask of you, and then we shall return to the Great Journey.” Uze' nodded, pleased. The Major stood and bowed once more before walking away. The ship had been damaged when they entered this world, and soon would be repaired for their return. Soon, the Ship Master thought, soon this world will burn. All in the name of the Prophets and Gods. Uze raised his energy sword, yelling at his fellow brothers in arms. They turned to him, calling up in his cheer for war and blood.