• Published 18th Aug 2014
  • 6,121 Views, 563 Comments

Return of the Guardian - Requiem17



After a 300 year journey the Guardian of Equestria returns, only to be greeted by a very different world. Surviving is one thing, being hunted is another.

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Art Please, Hold the Macaroni

Author's Note:

A bit short and a little rough, but hopefully having completed this will get my writing back into gear and in shape. I've finished many of my harder classes this year and should have more free time :) I hope you enjoy this little tid bit and I hope to see you all soon! Oh, and 200 followers!!!!!! More to come in a blog post. Have a good day and or night guys!

The dark red broth bubbled lazily, the contents from deep within rising with the heat every now and again, never breaching the surface. The metallic orange lines of grease webbing across the surface almost simulated what the universe looked like from a perspective far outside its boundaries. A dark wooden spoon dipped into the surface and stirred slowly, jumbling everything within. Its handle tilted and the concave bowl of the spoon was lifted out. The broth was brought to the lips of the man tending to the creation. He was tentative at first, almost in a teasing manner, like one would be with a woman, drawing out the anticipation to reap a better reward.

At least, that's what he thought.

With a growing smirk, he finally gave in, his lips making contact with the spoon.

Everybody jumped slightly at the loud slurping noise, a few weapons being drawn halfway out of their holsters. All eyes zeroed in on Rico. The Hispanic man met everyone's gaze and gave a small wave with his spoon, accidentally knocking over a small container of sugar on his makeshift table, its contents beginning to pour into the soup. With a quick yelp, Rico fumbled with the sugar, whipping it back upright.

Everyone began to relax and returned to what they were doing. Sean slowly slid his standard issue sidearm back into its holster before shaking his head. "Jesus Rico, I almost shot your bloody head off!" Rico ignored him as he was too busy attempting to fix his mistake. Sean turned back to cleaning his weapon even though it had already been cleaned long ago. He really did take care of that which he loved.

There wasn’t much noise in the room sans for the shuffling sounds of the living. This was also contributed by their bodies demanding rest, having been up for almost an entire 24 hours.

Ale was lying down flat on the floor with his hands draped across his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. There were small cracks in the thick concrete, but none were a cause of concern. There were 263 of them, Ale having counted them three times. Feeling bored, Ale pushed himself up into a sitting position. He checked up on the captain. He blinked when his eyes locked onto her derriere as she was leaning onto one of the desks by James, pointing at various monitors while talking with him quietly. His body couldn’t help but notice that it was quite a nice derriere, her armor doing nothing to hide it’s curves. In fact, one could say that it only contributed to its form with its sleek and polished look. The battle hardened armor almost looked like leather in a way.

Shaking off the strange feelings within him, he moved his eyes away. Those were inappropriate and unprofessional thoughts. He ignored the foreign warmth blooming within him and made to stand up. From what he knew of her so far she would come up with a plan relatively soon, and he’d be ready for her orders.

Ale strolled over to one of the windows, standing far enough away to prevent anybody from easily spotting him, not that it was likely. There had been zero foot and wheeled traffic on their block according to their monitoring equipment hidden around the perimeter of the building. His visor glinted dully in the artificial light as Ale stared down the road to the east, easily able to see the expanse of downtown due to the tall and brightly lit towers. One of them even had colorful spotlights dancing across the sky, or at least the inside expanse of the cavern.

Ale blinked and breathed deeply, enjoying the surprisingly cool air. The same could not be said for downtown as it was more than likely very hot due to all the activity in the area. Feeling a presence to his left, Ale looked towards the trooper. Corporal Sergey Petrovich stood a couple feet away, looking out as well. Ale watched him for a few more seconds before, having not received any cues that the sniper wished to talk, turning to look back out again.

They stood in a comfortable silence, bonding in an unseen way. They enjoyed the moment of peace and inactivity as those who have been in battle have learned to appreciate.

After a few minutes, Ale glanced over as Sergey pulled out a sealed rucksack. The sniper pulled a metal box over to him as a makeshift stool before taking a seat. Ale watched with curiosity as Sergey acquired a pad of paper wrapped in plastic. The soldier carefully pulled it off and quickly flipped through filled paper until he reached a fresh sheet.

Ale's jaw had slackened after catching glimpses of the sniper's work. Some of it was absolutely stunning! The corporal stared out into the city before grabbing a charcoal pencil, never taking his eyes off of the scene, imprinting it onto his mind. Ale watched the soldier begin his work with a speed and efficiency that only true masters of their craft could hope to emulate.

"I draw," Ale blinked as the quiet soldier began to speak, "to one day show humanity the places we've been. I want to share the destruction and the beauty of the universe." He dragged his gaze towards Ale, still drawing blindly. "That way, people can truly sense the magnitude of what we did, what we fought, and what we preserved."

Ale was a bit surprised that a light Russian accent had slipped from the quiet man, said nationality generally being quite a bit more outspoken. Ale pointed at the paper, asking if he could look at it. Sergey gave a small nod before Ale leaned over a bit closer to his sketch, the sniper turning his attention back towards the city.

“Wow…” Ale truly appreciated the work, feeling humbled by something he himself couldn’t do. The trooper’s hand moved gracefully, leaving both elegant curves and sharp lines on the paper, the charcoal’s ruggedness accurately portraying their reality. Ale then respectively stepped back, giving the man some room.

Ale gave a final glance out the window before turning away from it and walking away. He passed Rico as he still manned his stew, Ale grimacing slightly as he caught a whiff. He instead approached one of the tables, said table having been requisitioned from James. Troopers Sean, Brenden, Lilly, Chuck, and Ryan sat around the table on whatever could support their weight in a relatively comfortable fashion. They all held playing cards in their hands, keeping them away from prying eyes. However, this didn’t stop them from laughing at an inside joke, the soldiers still having a good time despite playing a game that required stoicism.

Brenden looked up at Ale, noticing that the super soldier was watching them. He gave a brief wave to catch his attention. “Would you like to join us sir? We’ll deal you in Sean’s place as he’s about to bust anyways.”

“He might have better luck if he would stop rubbing lube on his girlfriend for 10 seconds,” Chuck stated, peering over his cards. Sean only shrugged in response, not bothering to take the bait.

Ale shook his head, “No thanks. I think I’ll just watch instead, keep myself occupied.”

Lilly raised an eyebrow. “A Spartan? Bored?” She gave out a small chuckle, “Lacking things to kill eh?”

“Aren’t we all?” Chuck dropped a card down before drawing another.

Ryan scooted his rusted out garbage can over, making room for Ale. The Spartan nodded his appreciation before grabbing a sturdy looking filing cabinet and placing it on it’s side next to the table. He was able to sit on it without accident, the metal giving a few strangled groans before settling. Nobody commented as they had been around a Spartan long enough to know many of the things that came along with them, including their crushing weight.

Brenden passed out more cards, skipping Ale. The troopers grabbed the new cards and quickly added them to their hands. The Spartan watched the proceedings, noting that none of them wore their helmets. He knew from seeing other soldiers during his career that wearing a helmet while playing card games was considered cheating and would earn your squad’s ire. Nonetheless, the players never really talked about the card game, preferring to harass one another instead. This negated the need for a straight face as any ‘tell’ could easily be dismissed as a reaction to the conversation itself.

“100 credits says Rico’s mystery meat will be in today’s meal,” Chuck said as he pushed bits of scrap metal into a growing pile in the center of the table.

“Doubt it, there’s nothing here he can use. I haven’t seen a single animal since leaving the canyon, not even a rodent,” Ryan said.

Lilly threw down another card, “I really hope you’re right Ryan because if there is something in there…”

Everyone at the table paused, realizing the implications. “Uh, I’ll just stick with my MRE for now,” Brenden rubbed his forehead.

Sean lazily tossed down a card before laying the rest of his hand face down, returning to his work on his DMR. “That reminds me, how much do you eat?” he asked, looking at Ale.

The Spartan turned his cyan visor to him as he responded, “In the field? Normally the standard rations unless I can get my hands on more.”

“You’re a pretty big guy though,” Lilly added, gesturing a hand to the size of the super soldier.

Ale hummed briefly, “Well, when I have access to the cafeteria, I’ll eat a little over 8,000 calories.”

Again, everyone paused, staring at Ale. “8,000 calories!?”

Ale nodded. “It used to be 10,000, but that was… earlier, near the end of my training. Our instructor was a bit more inclined into running us into the ground then.”

“But the MREs, even a full day's worth, doesn’t come anywhere near that count. By all rights you shouldn’t even be able to walk more than a few hours, much less participate in combat. How are you not constantly sleeping?” Brenden questioned.

Ale leaned towards the table in a conspiratory manner. “Regulation states that if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He paused for slight dramatic effect before shaking his head. “Nah, but in all honesty, I can’t tell you. Just trust me when I say that my needs are taken care of.” Ale leaned back with a small smirk, “Besides, I have a bit more will than you give me credit for. A lack of energy doesn’t easily stop us as I’m sure you’re aware of from your own experiences in the field.”

With a quick shrug, the troopers continued with their game. “I’ll uh, not question all of the particulars. I already have a hard enough time trying to figure out exactly how you go to the bathroom,” Ryan stated.

Deciding to leave it at that, the Spartan brought up some of the most recent news he had updated into his suit before leaving the Grazer onto his HUD. He swiped through most of it fairly quickly, having no interest in many of the more civilian related activities. A lot of it was older information that the UNSC had only just released, filtering out all of the more classified material.

Ale quickly diminished most of the reading material before a small political piece captured his attention. It was a brief excerpt glorifying the actions of a recent invasion against a large Kig-Yar pirate outpost. The report detailed how a few well armed ships stumbled upon a nest of Kig-Yar pirates. The aliens had opened fire after the initial shock, the human fleet immediately retaliating. The UNSC moved in fast and hard, destroying most of the Kig-Yar’s defenses before they were able to dig in. The ships received minimal damage and had successfully deployed boots into the facility, conquering the pirates. While the victory in itself was impressive, the name of the one in charge was what really caught Ale’s attention. The commander of the fleet was Rear Admiral Celestia Arorous.

Ale felt as if he recognized the name, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The soldier was able to connect two dots together however, having undergone advanced counterintelligence training alongside his fellow Spartans, and glanced in the direction of the squad leader. Both of their names were unique and just so happened to be related to similar things. He tapped his fingers in contemplation before deciding to address it later.

Ale rolled his shoulders, sighing, “Something bothering you?” His gaze settled on Lilly after he finished speaking, having noticed her glancing at him from time to time, chewing on her lip as she contemplated on something that obviously seemed important to her. She clenched her jaw and finished her turn. Her muted reaction did not bode well to the Spartan, figuring that the incoming conversation wasn’t going to be a good one.

“Well, last time I checked you’re a Spartan II,” the grenade happy trooper pointed out as she kept her eyes on her cards. Ale made a show of checking himself before nodding, playing into Lilly’s words. “If you were in such a legendary program then there must have been plenty of things you’ve seen or heard that not many others can claim to have experienced themselves.”

“Lilly, quit stalling. The man is a bit more straight forward,” Sean interrupted.

Lilly frowned. “I wanted to ask, what is the Chief like?” she asked, expertly choosing her words to present tense, not past.

The entire room went quiet, everybody having heard his name. Ale did not visibly recoil, but that was not a question he was expecting. A quick glance at the other troopers showed their surprise too, albeit not in a good way.

“Lilly…” Brenden uttered, glancing at Ale. “Maybe we shou-,”

Ale held up his hand quickly, stopping the Sergeant. He focused back on Lilly and saw a brief flash of uncertainty cross her face. Deciding to break the tension, the Spartan spoke carefully. “Lilly, you know that most of the Spartan program is buried under a mountain of red tape, so there are many things I can’t tell you.” She nodded in understanding. “Unfortunately though, I can’t answer your question. I never really knew him well,” or at all, “so I can’t tell you much about him.”

He waited a few more seconds before turning to Chuck. “I think it’s your turn.”

The PFC quickly began to move, jumping on the chance Ale gave him to help ease away the solemn mood. Nobody seemed to really want to talk about the larger than life hero, especially since he was still missing or, god forbid, worse. Some people who studied the records of the Battle of Installation 00 speculated that the Chief did not survive the premature activation of the newly built Halo, claiming that his luck had finally ran out. These people were quickly shot down by most of the public and metaphorically tied up and gagged, or at least there hadn’t been any reports of said people going missing, so the Spartan assumed it was just that, metaphorical.

The surrounding ODSTs stayed relatively mute while playing, their thoughts obviously having drifted down a darker path. Luckily, they all looked up as the captain approached. The helmetless captain glanced at Ale, her striking blue eyes locking him in. She quickly released him from her gaze and addressed the members at the table.

“Alright Shadow, here’s what our course of action will be. You six,” she gestured across the table, “will stay here until we get further info. The others except for Leo, Vega, and Sergey will also be staying with you.” Luna brushed a lock of her short blue hair behind her ear, having kept her bangs slightly longer. “We don’t need a large presence running around a hot zone.”

Ale glanced towards the sniper team, noticing that Sergey had already finished what he was doing and had buddied up with his normal work mates. They were already rummaging through their equipment in preparation of their orders. “And what of backup?” the Spartan asked.

“We’re on standby, but from here only. They’ll be on their own for a while if they run into trouble.” Luna looked at the sniper team. “They are more than capable of handling themselves. This isn’t their first foray into a potential den of lions. Besides,” she glanced at Ale, quirking a brow in a playful manner. “If it all goes up in flames, we have you for a reason don’t we?”

Ale propped an elbow on the table. “You need a makeshift tank? I’m your guy.”

Luna leaned towards Ale, an absolute evil look painting across her face. “Easy there cowboy. Your cannon ain’t that big, I’m sure of it.” Before anyone could even fall into stunned silence Luna leaned back and barked, “Get some sleep Shadow. I have first watch.” She stepped away from the table and moved to inform the other troopers.

Nobody moved and nobody dared to breathe. Ale’s mind was in gridlock as he stared at the space the captain had previously occupied. Finally, his muscles almost audibly grinded as he slowly rotated his head towards the other troopers at the table. To his surprise they weren’t staring at him, but rather at their captain. Ryan then coughed, bringing his fist to his mouth. “Did, did she just-,”

“I think the captain just made a pass… at a Spartan.” Lilly sat back into her seat, her eyes blinking. “Huh, well that’s new.”

“Just wait a second, I’ve seen her flirt before,” Brenden stated as he scratched the back of his head, “but that was few and far between.”

“And with a Spartan no less,” Sean threw in. “Those are some pretty high standards if you ask me.”

Ale gained control of his words and he cleared his throat. “I’m still here you know.”

Chuck waved his hand at him dismissively, “Yeah-yeah, but Brenden, I’ve only seen it during black op missions. You know, to get where we needed to go? Fluster the enemy?”

Ale just stared at the troopers blatant ignorance of his presence, especially when they were trying to puzzle out the rather awkward moment that just passed. As far as Ale could remember, nobody had ever made a joke like that or flirted with him, at least not directly. Being an organic war machine that could kill you a bazillion different ways in under half a second wasn’t exactly dating material for most people.

The Spartan frowned when the soldiers carried on the topic of their conversation. This wasn’t something he needed right now, especially in the middle of what could potentially be a volatile situation in the city.

Chronos stepped up to the table with his helmet securely on, looking around. “Time’s up. Finish your hand and call it a night.”

“But sir, we just ne-,”

Chrono’s glare could be felt through the armored glass of his helmet as he stared at Chuck. “There will be plenty of time later.”

The ODST wisely chose not to argue further and tossed his cards into the center. The group quickly cleaned up and disbanded from the table, Ale staying for just a moment longer. He drummed his fingers on the table before standing up and heading over to his previous spot on the floor. Lying down with a few small thuds, he found himself staring at the ceiling again. Ale ignored the cracks and instead slightly turned his head to the right, watching as the captain pulled up a chair near James at the computer table. She sat down before propping her legs up on the table near one of the computers, chatting quietly with James as the two prepared to stay up for a few more hours.

The captain pulled off her sealed combat gloves before sifting around her rucksack for a small shower bag. She quickly opened it and produced a pair of nail clippers, carefully using them to keep her nails short and trimmed. Ale knew that this activity read their current situation as green as taking care of personal things was done in times of comfort or safety. While they were nowhere near safe in a hostile city, this was most likely the only place where they would find sanctuary of some sort. Meanwhile, the super soldier was becoming a bit thoughtful. It was the little activities like trimming nails of all things that most people tended to forget about soldiers. They were still people, they just had training to do things that most people didn’t want to do. They had to sacrifice many things and participate in experiences that would break anyone lesser. In the end, if a soldier did not have to pay the ultimate price, they were able to leave such destruction behind and return to a better world, one that they had fought for.

But Ale didn’t know what that world was like, nor would he really ever know. He would die for this army, sooner or later. His body and mind belonged to the UNSC and he would most likely succumb to some sort of grievous injury in it’s defense, however this did not bother him. He may have been cheated of his lot in life but it turned out to be one of the greatest needed black marks in human history. Without not only a few handfuls of super humans, but something to rally around for inspiration and renewal of hope for all of the UNSC, mankind would surely have been snuffed out, it’s burning light forever diminished.

Ale stopped thinking about what could have been as it did not matter. The present was here and now and he had to keep focused to ensure that the future was not lost.

But first, he couldn’t do anything without catching some sleep. A sleepy Spartan’s a grumpy Spartan…. And a fatally short tempered one at that. Closing his eyes, Ale fell asleep rather quickly, never noticing as his Captain watched him fall into slumber, her nails having been forgotten.

‘Sweet dreams…’

----

“You ever see a Spartan draw? Well, only a mother can love a child's macaroni picture, and Ale is no exception!”