Chapter 41
To Six, the outside world may have been another planet as she could only stand there, as unmoving as a statue, watching the rain soak the freshly filled-in grave. Officially, Spear was not dead. His status being changed, at Six’s request, to M.I.A like any Spartan would be. But, again, that was only officially. Spear was gone, and there was nothing Six could change about that.
She was wearing her full suit of armor, its surfacing baring several more dents and scratches since she had last donned it. Rain ran down her visor's edges in long streams, the hydrophobic coating her visor contained preventing the water from obscuring her view.
She didn’t know how long she had been standing there in the rain thinking…contemplating…remembering. As far as she knew Spear didn’t have any family, he never talked about any as if he did. But from the way he spoke and acted when around herself and the others after that fateful night in the alley on the day Six’s control broke. It was safe to say that if he didn’t have any family by blood, he had them by bond.
Six heard the sound of approaching hoofsteps through the pouring rain in her helmet's audio stream.
“You shouldn’t be up and about Six, your wounds need rest.” Came the soft voice of none other than Celestia in all her recovering glory.
“I could say the same to you.” Responded Six without looking back through her helmet's speakers.
“Please, I already got enough of that from my sister. A mare does not get as old as me without acquiring a few scars in the process” Continued Celestia as she moved next to Six holding a large umbrella within her magical grip. Glancing over Six could see the very edges of the scars she had given the princess. Her silver regalia, reserved for times of morning, hid a majority of the hoof-shaped damage. An unfortunate side-effect of Six’s makeshift defibrillator that had burned and singed the alicorn's flesh. “Though, I never expected hoof-shaped burns to become one of them through means other than assassination attempts or encounters on the battlefield.”
“Hmm…” Six hummed in acknowledgment as she returned her gaze to the grave before her.
“I wanted to thank you, by the way, Six… For saving my life.” Continued the princess softly. “It has been…a long time since I have last come so close to the beyond.”
“Your…Welcome…Is there anything else?”
“No…nothing that needs your immediate attention. I just wished to give my thanks…and pay my respects as well.” Celestia looked towards the soaking grave. “He was a good soldier and a better Spartan… I once even saw his name in the nomination files for High Command after the Captain became Prince.”
“Then please leave… I want to be alone.”
Celestia looked like she was about to say something before deciding against it, but just as she turned to walk away and leave the Spartan to their grief, she found her voice.
“We will get him Six, but do not forget that you still have another Spartan that needs your attention.”
And with those words hanging in the air, Celestia left, leaving Six all alone once more. The rain slowly began to let up as the evening shift weather teams started with their cleanup, allowing the orange rays of the setting sun to break through the cloud cover.
Six straightened her posture as she brought her hoof up to a salute, her wings splaying outwards and extending to their maximum.
‘I’ll get him, Spear… And I’ll tell the bastard to see you in hell.’
Six wandered through the halls of the hospital she was now so intimately familiar with. She had to be, afterall, how else would she be able to avoid the nurses and doctors long enough to retrieve her armor and say her promise. She had no doubt that the moment they discovered she was missing they threw a conniption.
They probably had to call in Luna or another one of their ‘Spooks’. And that was ‘Spook’ in name only, these ponies didn’t hold a candle to ONI’s operatives. They at least gave Six the dignity of staying juuuust outside her field of vision to make her question herself whether she saw them at all. The ponies seemed lazy in comparison.
Oh sure they had their ‘invisibility magic’ and their wings (Of which Six still had no idea how to use) that gave them some advantage, but Six’s motion tracker cut through them like butter. She could save the agent walking behind her about five meters away, cloaked, the trouble, and just turn around, look them in the eye, say ‘boo’ and scare them half to death. Seems fitting since they had been following her since she left the cemetery. But where is the fun in that?
No Six would much rather make them earn the privilege of tailing her so she took the most convoluted, busy, and narrow paths she could find on her way to her destination. By the time she was standing before the stairs that contained the final stretch she swore she could hear the cloaked pony panting and swearing under their breath about ‘Celestia-damned stairs’
It was at that moment Six decided to end the charade as she, turned to look at the corner of the room she knew the cloaked pony to be in and decided to ever so slowly unsheathe her knife from her shoulder.
Surprisingly the pony did not budge instantly as her tracker remained barren. The echo of the agent's previous movement was still visible.
“They train you well.” Spoke Six through her helmet speakers as she resheathed her knife with a clink.
Six didn’t get a response but she knew the pony had yet to move.
“I’m giving you one chance to decloak, leave me alone for the time being and call it a mission success. You know where I am and leaving without being noticed is going to be impossible. You don’t and we’re going to have a problem, understand? I am not in the mood to be followed right now. ”
Still nothing, but the marker on her HUD had returned. Seemed the pony was starting to fidget. “I’m giving you to the count of three.”
“Three…”
Nothing
“Two…”
The marker pinged once again yet made no movement towards the exit. Sighing, Six completed her count.
“One.”
With a swiftness, only a Spartan could use Six quickly, but delicately in order to not kill the pony, struck the cloaked pony right on the muzzle.
“Oh, Celestia!” With a crack on breaking cartilage, the ponies' cloak vanished as they yelped in pain and fell backward, holding their broken nose. “Y-you broke my nose!” The pony yelled out nasally as they held onto their now bleeding muzzle.
Six only sighed in disappointment. “I warned you… Now is not a good time to test me. Now go, find a doctor or something, just don’t follow me.” With that, the Spartan gestured towards the nearby door that led back into the hallway. The pony, still holding onto their slightly bleeding muzzle, not wanting to have it broken any further, complied with her order and left in search of medical attention. Once the door was shut and Six was sure she was alone the Spartan began her trek up the flight.
Six let out a breath she didn’t realize she had taken as she reached the halfway point. She didn’t want to break that pony's nose but with what she was going to do…who she was going to visit, she did not want to be eavesdropped on. She was sure to get an earful from Luna and or Celestia later for that stunt but she honestly didn’t care at the moment. She had a friend to visit… and another promise to make.
The hallway was barren with all the nurses assigned to this ward working at their station. The scratch of notes and charts being filled out quietly filled the air. Six knew Pixy was somewhere on this floor, but the exact room number she didn’t know. Walking down the hall, the Spartans' heavy armored hoofsteps alerted the working nurses to her presence as a head peeked out from the station.
The pony's eyes locked with Six’s emotionless visor, a visor that everypony respected… and equally feared. With a squeak, the nurse’s head shot back behind the corner. Several seconds of hushed whispers followed before what looked to be a much calmer and senior nurse walked around the corner to stand before the Spartan.
“How may we help you, Lieutenant?”
“I’m looking for Pixy.” Responded the Spartan after removing her helmet with a hiss of pressurized air.
“Of course, she is in room 312 down the hall, take a left and it's the last door on your right.”
‘312…Ironic.’ Thought Six as she gave a firm nod towards the mare before following their directions.
She was not able to go alone however as the nurse kept an eye on her from down the hall by beginning to do their ‘rounds’. Unfortunately for the nurse without any sort of covert training, it was quite obvious to the Spartan as they reached their destination and looked back to quickly see the nurse's head turn away from her.
Six just sighed and looked back at the door before her. She removed her helmet, Six wouldn’t be needing it for who she was about to see. Taking a calming breath she didn’t know she needed to soothe her suddenly racing heart, Six opened the door to room 312 and walked in.
Six attempted some modicum of stealth by trying to keep her hoofsteps quiet but it was a lost cause on the hard and sterile floor that only seemed to make her louder. The floor creaked and groaned under her armored hooves as if she were only a slight gallop away from cracking the sterile material completely.
“Six… are those your hoofsteps I’m hearing?” Came a call from further within the room in a familiar scratchy, yet hoarse, voice.
Seeing as stealth was no longer needed nor was it apparently needed in the first place Six entered the room fully and saw what had become of her Spartan.
Pixy looked, to put it mildly, terrible. Her mane, which was usually arranged in some type of organized chaos, was completely unkempt as if it looked like it had not been cared for in weeks. Dark bags marred the space between her red and puffy eyes with the damp streak of previously shed tears. But what really spoke volumes about Pixy’s condition was the lock on the window… and the restraints around her hooves.
“…Hey.” Came a weak greeting and a small wave from the broken Pegasus.
Six didn’t say anything as she simply switched her gaze between the window, her restraints, and the Pegasus herself as she approached the bedside.
“Yeah, I um… tried to fly.” Pixy continued with a weak and humorless laugh as Six now stood at the shying away pegasus’s side. “It didn’t work out…”
Six watched as Pixy's now singular white wing ruffled against her side, its movements lonely and incomplete without its red sister. Six found her attention being drawn to what remained of the red wing, the only thing she could see was the slight reddish-colored furs that surrounded the join of the missing appendage.
Fresh tears began to roll down Pixie's face “I-I a-allways h-hated the w-wing a-and now…I-I j-just w-want i-it back!” The pegasus cried as she suddenly threw her hooves around Six’s neck and began sobbing into the Spartans' shoulder. The restraints around Pixy's limbs were brought close to their limit as the Pegasus continued to cry into the surprised Spartan's neck.
“I-I j-just want t-to see S-Spear A-again!” Came another muffled cry from the bawling pegasus as Six felt her neck become evermore damp with Pixy's tears. The Spartan was at a total loss for words. She didn’t know what to say or to do in this situation. She had never had to deal with this before. The most she had seen was a panicking marine she had to slap some sense into and even then she could at least understand why. This…this was something entirely different.
Not trusting her words Six instead decided to resort to actions as she brought her wings up and very delicately cut the restraints and enveloped the smaller pegasus within her armored embrace.
“I’ll get the one that did this, Pixy.” Spoke Six for the first time since entering the room to the weeping pegasus she now found in her armored hooves and metal wings. And when the Spartan spoke next, they spoke with such unyielding fury and confidence it may as well be taken as a proclamation by the angel of death themselves.
“That bastard will die…”
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Excellent Chapter, just one thing I noticed is "Six let out a break she didn’t realize she had taken as she reached the halfway point." is this supposed to be breath? Other than that, keep up the good work!
Poor Pixy
The changeling on the other end of this is going to end up with a lot more holes to breathe through than nature ever intended at this rate.
No redeeming only dead bodys...
11261101
Nah, a break in this context is the specific, person-to-person sound someone makes when they break a major bone. But actually yes, it's supposed to be breath.
I saw nothing suicidal here
11261316
Was hinted at. Pixy tried throwing herself out the window hence the restraints and window lock.
This chapter feels entirely too short. Six (I refer to her as such because you have done a fantastic job making her yours for this story) is contemplating the loss of another Spartan. I would have licked to see rsminicience to her own death and those of the rest of Noble. Perhaps not survivor's guilt but definately a compounded regret for not having them there with her. Maybe she could contemplate where they might be now or question Halsey's words about Six being special/important/chosen (I don't recal the precise wording). The coincidence of Pixie being in room 312 (on floor B?) could have made her recal when she was recruited into the SPARTAN-III program and her own time under S-051 Curt. These memories were all dug up recently and charged with emotion, so sudden bouts of introspection and reflection are perfectly acceptable and even expected given that she needs to sort herself out before she'll be able to fight at her best again.
That bit with SMILE. While it could provide some comic relief, this really didn't feel like an appropriate time. The entire buildup and the encounter itself felt like cheep plastic poorly glued onto this story shaped from fine silver.
While Six was holding Pixie, though I know she is inexperianced with comfort, I feel that you should have done more with this scene. Make no mistake it did not feel rushed, out of character, cut short, drawnout, or anything of the sort. In that moment, with Pixie holding on like her life depends on it, straining the bindings holding her to the bed, Six could have told Pixie about S-052 George. She is suffering and seems to be simultaniously experiancing an identity chrisis and pegasus post grounding depression (It is rumored that the maximum life expectancy of a permenantly grounded pegasus is three months.) She needs a hero, an inspiration to continue on, to keep fighting and avenge her brother's sacrifice as well as all those who made the journee before. It would also likely serve as a better pick-me-up than picking on SMILE.
These are just my thoughts. I enjoyed the chapter regardless and appriciate that you are still writing for this story.
Dangit Connor, you tricked me in the discord. I was expecting gun
Six's emotional rollercoaster has been more intense than usual. As was commented a while back, ONI personnel made it their job to keep the Spartans focused on task, and constantly training, because if they stopped for any length of time, they pretty much do what John 117 did whenever he was left alone, and start to come apart psychologically. A side effect of what they did to those people to get soldiers like that. And Six has been demonstrating that same psychological vulnerability.
Of course, she's now got a mission. Avenging Spear will focus her. But if the other side has spies (and we know they do,) they may have learned about how she came apart for a while there. It's her biggest weakness, and one the other side will absolutely exploit. Because while the Covenant may not have been constitutionally capable of exploiting another race's emotional vulnerabilities, chrysalis ponies are ideally suited to exploiting a Spartan's emotional trainwreck of a gooey center.
That reckoning hasn't been avoided, just put off. I expect the bad guys will use her emotions against her soon enough. The two questions I can see are:
1) What do the chrysalis ponies do to mess with Six's emotions, and how does she overcome her greatest limitation?
2) Is Pixy going to become Cortana to Six's MC?
Well, Six certainly has a lot of motivation to kill this particular changeling. But what surprises lay in store for them?
Mission parameters set, but discombobulation must be corrected to increase projected success.
She removed her helmet twice without putting it back on.