( This seems kind of rushed in my opinion, and I decided to try a new style of writing for this split perspective story. Make sure to tell me if you enjoy this style of writing or think I should abandon it. Hopefully that doesn't detract anything from the chapter, despite the lack of extraneous gore. That kind of writing I am saving for the next few chapters, sorry, but this chapter is more of a little bit of an introduction. It also came to my attention that I didn't quite phrase the ending of the last chapter right, and has since been fixed. Noble Six can't come close to the Slayer's power level on his own, but there will be necessary plot twist to sort of fix this later. Until then you'll just have to wait and find out.)
As the plasma dagger slowly descended towards his face, Six felt at peace. Despite his countless years of combatting militia groups and erasing those that ONI and the UNSC wanted gone, his most fulfilling battles had been fought here, for Reach. He would happily die here knowing that he had accomplished everything his team had died for. The only thing the Spartan regretted was no being able to take more of these Covie bastards down with him. He closed his eyes and awaited the killing blow. It was time to go rejoin his team.
While that never came, the loud discharge of a shotgun did, causing Six's teeth to rattle in his head and his ears to ring. He could feel the alien blood splatter all over the side of his face as he opened his eyes to greet whoever had just intervened. Holding onto an antiquated double barrel shotgun was an armored figure, who Six believed to be a surviving Spartan. The only problem with this theory was the armor that the figure wore, which was far bulkier than any Mjolnir power armor that he had ever seen. The shotgun also seemed out of the regulation for a Spartan, but Six had been gifted a second chance, and there was only one thing that a Spartan was trained to do.
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The Slayer lowered his super shotgun and looked down at the man before him. Covering the man's body was a suit that somewhat resembled the Praetor, with a similar helmet laying in the dirt beside him. The man's blue eyes stared back up at him, and the Slayer returned the man's steady gaze through his visor. The super shotgun fell limp at the Slayer's side, his unoccupied hand reaching down towards the soldier. His gesture was returned, the soldier's gauntleted hand wrapping around the Slayer's own.
The Slayer pulled the man to his feet, a harsh whistle interrupting the momentary silence. The Beam rifle's projectile dissipated as it crashed into the mighty wall that was the Slayer, leaving no trace that the projectile had even made contact. A pang of rage struck the Slayer at this act, but he reigned it in just long enough to detach the sidearm from his hip and offer it to the man. The soldier grinned as he wrapped his hand around the grip of the powerful handgun, nodding to Slayer. He understood what must be done.
Turning slowly to face these odd creatures, the Slayer ejected the spent shells from his shotgun and slapped in two more. The hesitance from these creatures was easily perceptible as the large split jawed ones stepped towards him when their subordinates would not. One pointed a slim finger at him and roared, spurring the others to action.
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Six took advantage of the alien's shock and looked over the weapon handed to him by the armored stranger. It was clearly a handgun of some kind, but it was like nothing Six had ever encountered before. There was no magazine he could find, and no ammo counter was present. Six peered over at the man, watching as he stood before the incursion force that had wiped this planet out. Just who was he? His shotgun had blown through the shields of the Elite, vaporizing both it's head and upper shoulders completely. His armor had no direct shielding, yet he had just taken a solid hit from plasma based weaponry without a scratch, not to mention how calm he was while reloading his gun. Why would ONI even bother sending him here if the had assets like this at their fingertips?
Spartan II's were spoken of with a sense of awe, but this level of armor and weaponry suggested the possibility of a secretive Spartan IV program that he wasn't informed about. The Covies had lost the moment this mysterious soldier had arrived. With the command of a Field Marshal all surprise wore off, and the hesitant alien troops opened fire, filling the air with a crackling array of green and blue plasma bolts. Six scooped his damaged helmet from the ground and pressed his back against a nearby pillar of singed iron as the deafening barrage crashed all around him.
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The Slayer walked slowly towards the unfamiliar beings, their heat-based weaponry splashing harmlessly onto his suit's exterior. Both Vega's core and the demon's hellfire were vastly more volatile than their primitive weaponry, and it brought a smile to the Slayer's face to see the fear growing in their beady little eyes. He planted his shotgun on it's magnetic clamp as he closed in on one of the leader class creatures. There was no need for such extreme firepower here, and he could weed out the weak with his hands alone.
The one who had initiated the assault dropped it's ranged weapon, pulling out the strange blue energy blade that it's, now deceased, brethren had been using and rushing the Slayer. As much as he doubted the effectiveness of such a weapon against him, the Slayer intercepted this attack as if it were life-threatening, ducking under the humming blade and seizing the creature's wrist. It's strength was insignificant compared to his usual foes, and it's arm broke easily, inciting a beastly roar to match those of hell. The Slayer forced it to it's knees, wrapping one of his hands around it's oddly shaped head and hollowing out it's throat with a relatively weak punch from the other. He kicked it's ravaged corpse to the ground, eye's snapping to the next target. Nothing more than child's-play.
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Six stared in awe as the soldier put his fist through the Field Marshall's throat, immediately turning to the next alien, a jackal, and using it's arm to slam it into the ground at a seemingly impossible speed. Six couldn't help but feel bad for the Covies as the man broke, busted, and tore his way through every alien soldier that stood in his way, painting his already blood covered armor a deep shade of cobalt. Six couldn't help but feel a sad little pit of anger sit in his chest. It was unfair that the rest of Noble team had to fall in a series of brutal combat zones when this lone soldier could've done the job of his entire team without having to sacrifice a single Spartan. Orders were orders, but that didn't mean that they weren't occasionally bullshit.
The Spartan's thoughts were interrupted as a searing hot pain erupted from his left thigh. A weak plasma bolt had come from the opposite direction of where he was facing. His suit had been slagged by waves after waves of plasma, and his shields were no longer able to hold a significant charge, leaving his battered armor vulnerable. His leg wasn't horribly affected thanks to the thickness of his armor and the gel layer's presence. Six turned to face his attackers, three grunts who had somehow slipped behind him, and brought the strange pistol to face them. The small aliens started to open fire on him with their plasma pistols, the battlefield becoming filled with little green energy bolts.
Adjusting his hand on the unfamiliar gun Six accidentally pushed down a button at the very top of the grip, causing the front of the small gun to split and a blue glow to appear from within the gun. With no time to analyze this new discovery, Six pulled the trigger, unleashing a hefty sounding blast that carved through the first lightly armored grunt of the trio and ruptured it's methane tank. The resulting blast took care of the other two grunts, ending their lives in an explosion they weren't prepared for in the least. Six turned his gaze back to the pistol, turning it over in his hands. He could get used to something like this.
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The Slayer noticed something as he finished massacring the alien lifeforms before him, something that started to change his view of the seemingly worthless man he was sent here for. There were others, armored soldiers like him that lay dead all across this barren battlefield. Some were clearly killed recently, while others seemed to have been dead a while longer than others. It became apparent as he glanced around that wherever he was had been fighting these creatures for a lot longer than anticipated. Off in the distance lay giant swaths of ruined earth, scorched by beams descending from huge rounded shapes that floated in the sky. There were no signs of life anywhere, much like the mars facility, only corpses of those who once were.
The man's armor was also significantly worse off than the armor on the corpses he had seen, bearing dents and char to the point that it looks like it was melting off of him. The Slayer himself was near limitless in his capacity for punishment and endurance, but the same could not be said for someone who had forgone the same events as him. There was no telling how long the soldier had been at it, and his frail body may be giving up on him. He had been molded for his singular task, tested and tried with all of hells might, but the lone soldier was not a singular project but rather one of many. He was not expressly designed to kill these beings as he would need to be to survive this ordeal. Then again he was human, and emotions are what made human's inferior to something like him. Anger drove him to achieve all, while humans were held back with sadness, hesitation, and self-loathing. The Slayer had no need of such things, and this soldier would need to bury them deep if he were to come close to being ready to fight alongside him.
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Six turned to see the mysterious man walking silently back towards him, the broken bodies of the Covenant behind him speaking volumes. Six limped towards one of the fallen Spartans resting against what was once a wall. Tucked under his arm was a med kit, one that he regrettably didn't get to use in time. Six tore it from his grasp and unclasped it, reaching for the biofoam. The last thing Six wanted to have to do was fuck around with his leg, so he extended the nozzle and pushed it into the hole in his armor. Six could've passed out right there, as red hot pain erupted from the contact with a raw plasma wound. He began to eject the biofoam, slowly pulling the nozzle up as it's payload dispersed. The foam itself felt no better, simulating what it would feel like if a thousand tiny scalpels were all dragged across the same length of his singed flesh.
Six clenched his teeth hard, slamming his helmeted head against the support beam behind him. The numbing feeling kicked in shortly after, allowing the battered Spartan to exhale slowly in relief. The biofoam should last long enough for Six to kill a few more Covies before kicking the bucket. All he needed were a few hours to rest and he'd be ready to begin again.
"What is your name?" The deep base should have been a given seeing how stocky and built the suit was, but yet it still kind of surprised Six when the beastly man spoke.
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The words felt unnatural to the Slayer, as if they rusted over and lost all meaning. Words hadn't come from his mouth since the fall of Argent D'Nur alongside of the Night Sentinels, past that point there had been no words to express the rage bubbling inside of him. Now was different, and words were necessary, no matter how difficult, to get this soldier to listen. The man looked up from whatever he had just done to his leg, but it took him a second to give the Slayer a response.
"The name's Six, Noble Six."
The presence of a numeric further proved that he was made to be one in an army of many. Surely the others were gone by the look of things surrounding this battlefield, otherwise the Wretch wouldn't have made such a big deal about hurrying.
"And yours?" The soldier breathed heavily between words, sweat dripping from his brow. His eyes were downcast, staring into the space between his knees.
Truth be told the Slayer had long forgotten his true name, lost among the countless years of hearing the fearful muttering of his new name, The Doom Slayer. As he understood it, this name was far outside the realms of acceptable among humans, but in this world the naming standards seemed to be different. The Slayer mentally prepared his lips, and tried his best to replicate the reaction from the last time he spoke.
"They call me the Slayer." Surprisingly there was no odd glance or questions about this, so the Slayer just accepted this fact and pushed forward with his agenda. "Where are we right now?"
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Six felt his mind swim as "The Slayer" admitted that he didn't know he was on Reach. There wasn't a chance in hell that an ONI operative would have to ask something as basic as the Planet he was sent to. The UNSC would've deployed such an soldier sooner, and the Insurrection wouldn't have access to such a powerful suit of armor. What option did that leave?
"We're on Reach, a former human colony in the Epsilon Eridani system." Six presumed that this man would need more than just his location, but more of a rundown of what was going on. "Now it's been taken over by the Covenant, and the last of the survivors just escaped from here in the Pillar of Autumn. I stayed behind to man the big gun over there and keep the Covenant ships off of the Autumn." Six gestured back towards the Onager. "I-"
The Slayer interrupted him here, seeming to have picked up interest.
"So there are more of you out there? More like yourself to fight these..." The Slayer paused for a moment. "Covanant?"
Six withheld a snigger. " There are, but we are becoming fewer by the day. We aren't equipped to be fighting this war with them. Not to mention that the nearest Spartan just blasted off this rock in the Autumn. I don't know much about him, but I don't have to know very much to tell you that he's the best of the best."
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To be completely honest, the Slayer could care less about meeting another Spartan, all he really wanted was to kill demons. However, the Wretch was very adamant about teaching him some lesson he didn't really see the point of, so he was gonna get this over with the fastest way possible. The best of the best was bound to know a considerable amount more than he did though, not to mention that Noble Six had mentioned that the ship hadn't left too long ago.
"Is there a way to reach this Autumn?"
Noble Six shook his head softly. " Unless you know how to fly a phantom there isn't any way to even leave the ground around here. Best bet for a workable ship is Sword Base, but without some sort of miracle I doubt any ships will be left over after all the exec's fled the planet."
Quite a few questions arose from the short dialogue, but the Slayer disregarded them in favor of his typical gung-ho approach.
"Then that's where we go." He turned from Noble Six, staring at the huge alien warships in the distance.
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Six quite honestly didn't have the will to go on. He was only just now getting over how close he was to finally being at peace, to being able to lay down his weapon and move on. It all just weighed down on him at once, suffocating his usually persistent self. The burst of energy he had upon seeing such a powerful soldier had worn off, and he was back to his self-loathing. Selfish as it was, Six wanted to give up, to quit right now and let Reach claim him once and for all. But Carter's words chose now of all times to return to him.
Six, the AI chose you.
The rest of his team had sacrificed themselves without hesitation to ensure the safety of both John-117 and the unknown AI, knowing full well that they were humanity's best chance at survival. Should either one be destroyed, all their sacrifices would have been in vain, and Six couldn't accept that. He'd see this through to the end, holding his life between theirs till death or deliverance. The fight must go on.
"It'll be guarded by now." The Slayer turned back to towards him. "But I doubt that'll be much of a problem for someone like you." The Slayer snorted.
Six braced himself and pushed his sore body back onto unsteady legs. The biofoam kept his wound in check, and the Spartan took a few shaky steps towards the Slayer until they were face to face. The Slayer stood taught with his arms at his sides, radiating a sense of mysterious danger from his very being. Six shook terribly but held out one hand to his unlikely ally.
"I will take you as far as I can, I only ask one thing of you. I want you to make me stronger, strong enough to take revenge on the alien bastards that took everything from me. To protect their wishes."
The whirring of Phantoms became slightly closer as silence filled the air around the two warriors. The Spartan had given up hope when the Slayer's arm reached out and grasped his outstretched hand.
"Deal."