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NOTE: You will need to have read Rise To Honor by Shadow, or at least the last few chapters of his series in order to understand this prologue. If you haven't, or don't plan to, you will NOT understand most of the important elements of this story.

2568 A.D./ 27 A.C.W: 0130 Hours: Earth, American Continent, Rushton Peninsula, 2 Miles Off Human Retreat Center Of The Final War

Shadow could barely open his eyes; the lack of energy was overwhelming. He couldn't feel his legs either, although those were shattered, no surprise there.
He couldn't feel his left arm. That had been blown to kingdom come and back by Covenant snipers. He could still smell the combination of rotting and burnt flesh in his nostrils, though. It was an acrimonious tingle, truly disgusting.
He watched the explosion undulate- closer and closer. He gave up in his attempt to see the full extent of it, and fell into a meditation. Everything collapsed into a white fog.


2558 A.D./19 A.C.W: 0430 Hours: Earth, European Continent, Atika Mountains, Secret Military Training Camp, Spartan III Project

Takan awoke to some unnecessarily loud screaming, coming from someone in front of his small little bed. The sound seemed all too distant to him, as if someone was trying to yell at him from the top of a hill. Despite it's distant feel, his senses were aroused immediately. He sat up in a sluggish motion, and snapped his eyes open to see the young face of his commanding officer, Mendez. Rumor had it that he was once the commander of the fearless Spartan IIs. He personally thought that someone who worked him so gently couldn't have produced the splendor of the Spartans. The commander seemed to be yelling at him about something, but he didn't care to listen.

"Number 97, wake up! You maggot! You're the most undisciplined cockroach I've ever seen! Wake up! It's time for your first physical session of the day!" Mendez screamed.

He shook his head, trying to get a grip on the day. As soon as he finished, he felt the extreme pain and the zing of something burning into his skin. By reaction, he grabbed whatever was stinging him, he didn't have full vision to see what it was, and couldn't very well throw it off into the corner. With lightening speed, he ducked under the attacker, and grabbed it by the throat. All with his eyes closed. He used only sound and feeling to help him carry the offensive to whomever this was. Training had helped him a bit to acquire these special abilities, but he mostly spent his 'sleeping' time practicing his martial arts skills. The arts that he had learned while he was just a young child.

As he opened his eyes, he quickly let go of the perpetrator, realizing it was just a sergeant trying to prod him with an electric device that was used all the time to make the cadets wake up for their... 'Work'. He turned to Mendez.

"I'm sorry sir. It's an instinctive thing." he explained.
"I'm glad that you have honed in on your skills, but should always be aware of what you're doing before you do it. Now get down the fitness room and begin your daily training." The commander replied coolly.
"Yes sir."

He allowed himself a quick glance toward the sergeant, (who was currently gasping for air) and opened his door, walking out into the hall.
He was wearing a pair of camouflage shorts that came down to his knees.
He preferred to pull them down a little and let them go past his knees. Shirtless, it showed his boxers that were supposed to be concealed underneath, but he liked how he wore it. The Commander told him that the way he liked to wear his shorts was an old style back hundreds of years ago. It pained him to know that he wasn't the first to create the style, since he was always first in everything. He never took second as an answer.
Adjusting his shorts to his taste, he began a quick jog down the hard, cold floor towards the fitness room. As he entered, he noticed that there was an open spot right between numbers 98 and 96. That was where he was supposed to be. Other than him, everyone was already assembled in a line. He quickly jumped into his spot, and stood straight up, at attention.

In strode Mendez, swiftly and with confidence. He looked around at each of the young children, and took off his formal military shirt. Everyone here was around 15 now. There were a few exceptions, but that was the age of the majority of the trainees. Takan was one of those exceptions, the only exception that was younger than the rest. He was the only 14 years old. As Mendez finished taking off his shirt, he turned to the trainees.

"For a warm-up, we'll be doing 250 pushups." The commander said confidently.

Some of the children slumped over at the sound of the commander's 'hard training'. Takan was actually disappointed. They had done 250 pushups for warm-up yesterday, and he was hoping for more of a challenge. Oh well. The commander got down on his knees and hands, and prepared to start off the count.

"Ready! One! Two! Three! Four!"

Takan began to do the pushups with such ease, one would think that he wasn't even human. At 100, he was beginning to break a sweat. All the others had begun to break their sweat 20 pushups earlier. At 230, the muscles in his upper arm and chest began to ache a little, but it wasn't anything serious. He looked to his right, and watched as two of the other trainees collapsed on the ground. He looked to his left, where three others had already collapsed. At the mark of 250, everyone collapsed, including Takan. Granted, it wasn't too much of a challenge to him, (compared to many of the other exercises) but it was still very tiring. He laid on the matted floor with his chest to the ground, his chin holding his head up. After 30 seconds or so of rest, The Commander flipped onto his back.

"400 sit-ups! Get Ready! Go! One! Two! Three! Four!"

Shadow flipped onto his back, and began to work with the others.
That was 100 more sit-ups than last time. Perhaps he might not make it this time. After 20 minutes of excruciating muscle exertion, everyone was allowed to take a water break and run the regular 4 miles before they could have breakfast.
Shadow was never good at long distance running, and never was able to clinch first place in the running. He was always 5th or 6th. And it always frustrated him. He would get a stomach cramp about halfway through the run, and he couldn't do anything about it. It angered him greatly, but it didn't keep him from trying his hardest. He kept on working, and never gave up. Today he received 4th place. Better than most of his runs, and he was somewhat satisfied with his run today. Jamie and Bernard were always the ones to get first. They were the fastest of the group, of all 100 of them.

After breakfast, which consisted of a strange brown goop and bread, they were to report to the tutor room, where they were taught history, battle tactics- math, among what he thought to be miscellaneous teachings. Today, they got a history lesson. History was alright- it was much more interesting than the cold calculations of Mathematics, but less invigorating than creating a plan in a battle that could obliterate all others. The teacher was an AI known as Veskin. It was Spartan History.

"Today, trainees, we'll learn about the actions of your predecessors, the Spartan IIs, the reason for these actions, and how they affected the other members of the team."

One of the other trainees, whose name was Gebrard raised his hand.

"Yes number 43?"
"Ma'am, if we're studying and training here to become superior to the Spartan IIs, then why are we studying their battle tactics? Wouldn't those teachings just become a hamper to our own possibly superior maneuvers?" Gebrard interrogated with curiosity, and a slight hint of challenge.
"Well number 43, you are studying here to become physically and mentally superior, but not intellectually. As far as we can analyze, the Spartan IIs made the best maneuvers possible in these situations, and we must learn from them. Any other questions, Number 43?"
"No Ma'am."
"Getting back to the lesson, the first mission launch for the Spartans left them down one member. Today we will review how they lost that member. It all started with the infiltration and planting of explosives within a Covenant cruiser. During the battle, one of the Spartans, who we will name Sam, was injured in a battle. He wasn't severely injured, but his battle suit was damaged. Therefore, he could not pass through the space/air lock back to a friendly vessel. So what this Spartan did was stay inside the Covenant ship and distract the enemy forces away from the other Spartans to allow for their escape. This one Spartan knew that it was his last few minutes, for the detonation would occur within a short time. In his sacrifice the rest of the team was able to escape unscathed. Now students, what elements and principles has this Spartan demonstrated."

Takan slowly raised his hand. The AI turned her head to him, and held up her semi-transparent finger.

"Yes Takan?" she questioned.
"Bravery and Honor," he replied confidently.
"Yes. Takan has told us these two principles. Bravery and Honor. They are two major factors that can determine the outcome of a battle. Later today, Commander Mendez will set up an exercise to teach you students how these two can apply to battle."

A student held her hand up. It was Peggy. She wasn't the brightest of the group, but she could hold her own in the physical activities.

"What is Honor?" she asked with uncertainty.
"Anyone wish to tell what honor is? Yes Azrielle. Can you tell us what honor is?"
"No Ma'am," She answered in conclusive posture.
"Oh? Why not?" Questioned the AI, slightly surprised.
"Because honor is something that cannot be taught. It is something that can only be learned and discovered when it is needed most, Ma'am."

Veskin was a "stupid" AI. She was a class of AI that was not created to learn or discover new things. She was in a class of AIs that were created to assist or teach what they did know to whoever they're programmed to help. These AIs were in vast numbers, and the "intelligent" AIs were generally considered a rarity in the military world. Because Veskin was a "simple" AI, she didn't understand new ideas or approaches to certain files in her library, especially history. To 'simple' AIs, history was just history, something that can't be changed. And aspects such as honor and bravery were set definitions in an AI's file. Different approaches and views on the two did not compute to a simple AI.

"Azrielle, perhaps you are mistaken. But we will discuss some more about history this evening. You are dismissed. Go to the mess hall and start your lunch session."
"Yes Ma'am," everyone responded in unison.

Takan didn't quite understand why the AI used the personal name of the Spartan. Normally in lessons, they used numbers, like 56 and 78 instead of the real names of the Spartans. It was the first time he had heard of the real name of this Spartan. Perhaps the AI used the name of the Spartan as a strategy in her teachings. Using a personal name would be able to accent the actions and help show the magnitude of this one Spartan's sacrifice. And then there was Azrielle's response to the question about the meaning of honor. Despite Veskin's aversion to Azrielle's outlook on the aspects of honor, Takan thought that Azrielle did have a higher grasp of the idea. Perhaps it would be interesting to talk with her during the lunch session.


2568 A.D./ 27 A.C.W: 0330 Hours: Earth, American Continent, Rushton Peninsula, Human Retreat Center Of The Final War

Jan looked towards what was left of the Covenant base. The explosion had done its damage, and many of the trees of the forest that were still on fire from the impact of the explosion and detonation of the generator.
There was an enormous crater at the heart of the forest, where the generator had made its detonation. Pieces of Covenant steel and other building materials were strewn all over the blackened ground, among miscellaneous other objects, including pieces of tanks, shades and other vehicles. There were no body parts, they were things the heat and the power of the explosion immediately disintegrated in the blast. Half the trees of the forest were gone. Just hours before, the entire forest was intact and the humans were struggling for survival. Now the Covenant were gone for good. The explosion was enormous. At first there was only a small explosion in the distance that illustrated the fact that Shadow had completed the mission. Only a few seconds later did the small explosion jump out into a huge plume of fire and smoke, consuming everything. The explosion was so large in magnitude that everyone had to shield their eyes after their first glimpse of it. After an hour, the explosion died down to only a few fires still thrashing to survive the winds of the forest. Seemingly magical particles of blue and green fell from the sky. Everyone in the base knew that it was just the Nervon deposits in the generator that had been tossed out during the explosion. But millions of these blue and green star-like bits seemed to be a grace from God. A testament of his protection of the human race... especially in their darkest hour.
To give the credit to God would be unfair, though- all of it was completed by one man...
Perhaps inspired by God...but it was still only a man. The one man that even though seemed to be reckless and uncontrolled- was the most admired and envied of the Dark Wolves. She was holding it in as long as she could, but could hold out no longer.
She began to break out in a silent weep. Tears flowed down her cheeks and out of her eyes like waterfalls, but she made no sound. She turned to Cal, who was previously just standing there and watching the scene. He turned to her, his eyes all watery, but without any tears coming out. They embraced each other, her tears sopping up his shirt. They were supposed to be heartless, and cold...they seemed to be acting too soft in front of the Spartans. But neither cared about any of that. They had lost their greatest friend, and nothing was going to change that.

"Is there any chance at all that he survived?" She questioned, losing more and more hope with each syllable.
"I don't believe there is," he replied solemnly.

Az was leaning on the stone banister of the veranda, looking out towards the explosion, not a tear nor a teary eye in sight. Shadow would never have wanted them to cry to his death. He wouldn't even want them to remember him. They just wanted him to disappear from their minds. All their pain for him- all the pain for Geb. He just wanted it all to go away. The fact that they were feeling bad only went against his wishes. She wasn't going to anger him up in the heavens.
She looked down. She couldn't let herself watch that fiery inferno anymore. The balcony was about 200 feet up above the ground on a ledge of the cliff where the Retreat Base was dug in. She shook her head once and then looked to Jan and Cal, who were still in the midst of embracing each other.

"We go for four years without taking a scratch. And then in one day, we lose both our leader and our greatest fighter. It's just not fucking fair!" She began out without reason, with an increasing rise in anger and intensity.

She clenched her fist tightly and slammed the balcony banister, breaking off half of the stuff from their holdings on the balcony and sending it flying to the ground with a loud crash along the cliff wall and the dirt ground. She still didn't cry, her fists were closed tightly and she was shaking uncontrollably.

"It's just not goddamn fair! The one time we decide to enlighten ourselves with actually trying to do something worthwhile in God's eyes, he takes our lives away! What is with that shit! It's just not fair!" She screamed with no remorse and no regret.
"We can't change it now Az," Cal mediated in his normal cynicism.
"We should go home. Staying here will do nothing for us." Jan said.

Az looked back to the blaze that was still afire in the forest. She slowly loosened her grip, and stopped shaking.

"I guess you're right." Az said.
"Let's go home." Cal said with finality.

Az seemed to have cooled down a bit, but she still seemed angry about something. They turned to go back into the base, but before they could get to the double glass window doors that led into it, they swung wide open. In the wake of the doorway stood the Spartans. Their armor glistened in the sunlight that was beginning to pass up over the horizon.
Before anyone could do anything Az screamed out like a banshee and grabbed John by his armored collar. She looked at him for a second. In her eyes, John could see a sense of desperation, and extreme sadness. Tears were in her eyes, and he thought he knew why. She only looked at him for a brief second before flipping him over her shoulder, landing him square on his back. Before he could get up or retaliate, she kicked him in the gut, sending him to the edge of the now railing-less balcony. His head hanging over the edge, Az immediately followed up on her attack. She landed with a knee to his gut, and pulled out a pistol. She aimed right under the helmet, where she could get a nice clean shot.

"You fucking bastards! You brought all this shit about! If you guys could actually stop those damn Covenant! It's your goddamn job! Not ours! We lost our best comrades and our closest brothers in that battle! You goddamn cowards! Why didn't you fuckers do it yourself! This is your job assholes! Why was it Shadow that had to die! He was the last one that was to blame! Why couldn't it be me! Dammit! Well, hell to that. Hell to it all! Hell to this fucking miserable existence that I call life!" She screamed out in even more agony and pain.

John had not a chance to make a move before the Spartans were all over her.
Kelly was the first there. She dashed straight towards John and Az, coming to screeching halt in her titanium boots. She pulled Az off with amazing strength and helped John up. James grabbed Az's pistol and tossed it over the edge. There would have been a sharp cling of the pistol hitting the ground, but everyone was arguing too much for anything else to be heard.

"Goddamn! You volunteered for this!"
"Dammit NO! We volunteered cause you shit-heads couldn't handle it!"
"What? Shadow even volunteered to stop the Covenant!"
"I don't care! You're fucking inability to kill jack shit has cost us lives!"
"Cal is right! We lost..."
"I don't care what you lost! You want to hear what WE lost? We lost 16,000..."
"Soldiers! Yes! Soldiers! Ones who are supposed to end this goddamn war! And what do they do? They sit there in a stupor as only we save their hides!"
"Their lives are more than you failures will ever be!"
"Perhaps our lives are nothing in the eyes of the military, but you just understand that our bonds were stronger than you will ever have with each other. You work together. That's it. You have no emotions for each other. You are just cold-blooded machines! That's what you are!"
"Machines! What the hell, you guys have no right to criticize..."
"Because we're assassins? What's that have to do with it?"

Linda finally had the common sense to break up the fighting. She stood between both groups, preventing them both from killing each other.

"Look. Fighting with each other isn't going to get any of us anywhere. Dark Wolves, I know that you are saddened by your loss, and I know it can be hard. But we had nothing to do with it. And you know it. You're just trying to find someone to blame for your loss. What Shadow did was on his own accord, and you can't blame us for him wanting to do something good and whole for a change. And the rest of you Spartans, I can't believe you're telling the Dark Wolves off! We're here because we have to be. We're part of the military, enlisted to stop the enemy. They came here because they felt it was the right thing to do. And in doing so, they lost two of their greatest friends. And then you have the nerve to call them unwholesome and worthless? Dark Wolves, what can we do for you? We are in your debt."

"A ride away from this hellhole," Jan said bluntly.
"Then you have one. We have your transport ready to go."
"Thank you."

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