A/N: Whoohoo! Another chapter! Sorry it took so long, injury, work, hurricane, you know: life. Anyway things are moving ahead with our little crew. Thanks a million to the most awesome Beta on the webs ShadowWolf087 for being there to help and correct all my silly mistakes and offer advise. You rock.

Disclaimer: Any character that is not immediatly recognizable belongs to me, everyone else belongs to Bungie/343 all all those guys.


Once Carlisle had coaxed a brief summary of events from the three marines he had then attempted to summon a medical team to the training room to tend to the sergeant. She shrugged them off rather rudely with a stream of curses, most of which were not English - and bodily threats when the youngest EMT had attempted to ask her to at least sign the refusal form. Once escaping them she limped down the hallways with as much dignity as she could muster with a bullet having torn itself through her right calf. The UNSC green bandana tied around her leg was now mostly deep red and streams of blood had wound their way down into her boot. She heard the liquid squishing in the sole with each step.

As soon as she deemed that she was far enough away from the others, she stopped for a breather. The strain on her left leg was more than usual now that she was limping heavily, and wore her out quickly. She leaned against the corridor wall to take as much of the weight off her right leg as possible, and cradled the leg with her hand.

Someone was shouting. Several some ones actually. The sergeant pushed off the wall and looked back the way she came. No, it wasn't Jet and Roe, there were three voices and two of them were female. Curious now, the sergeant followed the sounds of the voices, surprised when a fourth, this one male, joined in. It was distinctly calmer than the other three and for a moment the argument stalled before picking up again.

After turning down one hallway that branched off from the main corridor, she found herself in a near deserted section of the medical wing. She stopped at an open door where it sounded like all the ruckus was coming from and flattened herself against the wall, carefully peering inside, the fire in her leg now all but forgotten.

What she saw was a young man, younger than herself she guessed, but it was hard to tell with his back turned towards her. He had backed himself against one wall of the examining room with the table he was meant to be sitting on positioned between himself and two female nurses. One held an empty syringe and a few small bottles for collecting blood samples. The other stood with hands raised, palms outward, clearly trying to calm the soldier enough for them to get closer.

On the table between the two parties a small AI had manifested. Small compared to the three adults, it was rather large as far as AI avatars went. It stood about 18 inches from table to the top of its head. The avatar was green and dressed in what appeared to be naval fatigues. With its booted feet shoulder width apart and miniature hands curled into fists resting on its hips, it easily conveyed its impatience. While the sergeant watched, the AI turned from staring everyone down to focusing on the young man. "I am supposed to be your partner-"

"Then why aren't you on my side?!" The other demanded before the AI could finish.

Now the miniature soldier bristled, the avatar flickering a darker shade of green as it sighed. Clearly the arguing was routine.

"No military personnel," it stated, "no matter the branch or rank, ever won a fight with medical." It flickered once before fading out just as the sergeant became aware of the tramping of feet and a fully armed cell extraction team shoved her aside and swept into the room. Normally a cell extraction was used in prisons or psych wards, not medical. The teams consisted of five soldiers or guards who formed a pyramid: the man in front had a riot shield, the two behind him brandished handcuffs, and the two at the back of the pyramid were armed with what looked like miniature lassos that were used to restrain the feet.

They rammed into the young man, sending him flying back into the wall and then knocking him to the floor. The soldier with the shield pinned him to the floor, one jumped on each of his limbs. The prisoner, as he now appeared to be, bucked and rolled away from the team, a single handcuff dangling from his right wrist as he stood up. Now the sergeant got a good look at him.

He appeared to be in his early twenties. He wore a white shirt that proudly proclaimed "ODST" across his broad chest. His hair was light brown, nearly but not quite blond and neatly buzzed. He had khaki BDU pants - belted of course, and tucked into the top of his Magnum boots that went halfway up his calves. The most prominent thing the sergeant noticed though was how thoroughly muscled he was. She hadn't always been on the recovery teams, she had met ODSTs and other active duty marines and none of them were anywhere near the size of the young man. He wasn't much taller than the soldiers scrambling to detain him as the nurses ducked out the door, but it was enough to be a noticeable difference. Coupled with his muscle mass it was enough to make her narrow her eyes with suspicion. And of course there was the green AI who had itself stated it was his partner.

She huffed in annoyance and turned away from the scene, only to bump into and bounce off of another observer. This one was a woman in a uniform with no identifying features and a chiseled face with a frown that seemed to be permanently etched on. "Do you like what you see?" she questioned with no preamble.

The sergeant's eyes flickered to the now prone, cuffed and hogtied soldier. "Perhaps." she paused, "One of yours?"

The woman who was obviously a spook's lips stretched into a thin line. "Spartan J-001 belongs to the UNSC, specifically ONI. You all belong to me, my dear sergeant." With that she turned and strode down the corridor; the light seemed to brighten now that she was gone.

The extraction team drug the soldier out of the room. Two of them had black eyes and one sported a broken nose that steadily dripped blood onto his uniform front. They quickly disappeared the way the spook had gone.

The sergeant made her way back to the normal part of the medical wing. Now that the excitement was over, the throbbing in her leg picked up again. Her boot sloshed with every step.


The moment Jersey regained awareness a stream of curses began spouting from his mouth. He was sitting on the ground leaning up against what felt like a concrete wall, his hands cuffed firmly behind his back. There were no chairs or any other form of furniture. The only window was high up on the door and it was currently shuttered.

He growled and let his head flop bonelessly back against the wall with a soft thump.

No sooner had he resigned himself to waiting in silence for whatever Carlisle and Shiloh had in store for him than a familiar green shape flickered into view from an unseen projector somewhere in the room. Before the miniature soldier could speak, Jersey shut his eyes and turned his face away.

The 18 inch tall figure in Navy fatigues was not to be deterred. It stood the same way it had when its charge had thrown the temper tantrum before, feet apart and hands clasped behind its back and with chin lifted up. It almost gave the impression of looking down on the sulking soldier. "Well?" it prompted.

Jersey continued pretending it wasn't there.


"You realize that to kill the bastards who murdered your unit you do have to play by their rules. Right?" When no answer or response of any kind was forthcoming it continued. "You also realize that I can't train you to do that until you're cleared. They won't clear you without those blood samples."

When the AI stopped speaking the door creaked open to reveal the cell extraction team accompanied by two nurses, these ones men, and the always lurking Carlisle and Shiloh.

Jersey allowed his eyes to flick over to the group for a brief second before sliding away to stare impassively at the wall.

The nurses passed around the extraction team to enter. They cautiously approached the soldier, tied a tourniquet around his upper arm, acquired the several vials of blood needed for testing and beat a hasty retreat without any reaction from their subject. The door then creaked shut, leaving the soldier and his companion once again in silence.