0550 HOURS, NOVEMBER 15, 2554 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR)
HALO INSTALLATION: SIRCA--FREELANCER L-BASE--ENROUTE TO QOPPA

Morning light couldn't come soon enough as Tysiac finished his silent jog through L-Base and gave his body a few more stretches and quick exercises. With a quick trip to his quarters to get the suit on and helmet hooked under his arm, the Spartan made his way towards the mess hall. After the food fight, the cafeteria had been cleaned; the night patrol was finishing their meals there when some chupadores spotted Tysiac. However, he hadn't the time to interact with them as he hurried to collect and eat his breakfast.

Apparently, something set the kitchen staff into gear, as they had out an array of dense, high-protein meals. Snatching up a few dishes of food to his serving tray that Tysaic felt would supply him enough, that being as three omelets all ladened with spam, sausage and cheese, a significant portion of baked beans, a heap of oatmeal with a stack of fruit that threatened to mix with the beans, the Spartan found a spot to eat and didn't wait.

As he began working through the meal and ignoring the wide eyes of a few troops, Tysaic noticed York slowly making his way into the mess hall. Apparently, he didn't get to sleep all that well, but it didn't seem to hamper the tall chupadore as he collected what he wanted and found Tysiac.

Looking at the size of the Spartan's meal, York came to sit next to Tysiac and commented, "Hell of an appetite today?"

"Requirement." Tysiac replied before getting another bite, continuing as he swallowed, "Part of the augments. Higher metabolism, higher demands."

York leaned back, giving a mock-whistle, "Fucking hell, Tys. That makes you a super furnace?"

"Something of the sort." Tysaic replied after getting two more forkfulls down, "But it's what keeps me maintained and capable of being what I am."

"If Tex finds out you eat like that," York chuckled, starting his own meal, "she'll try to top you."

"She already knows."

York's eyes widened as he turned towards the Spartan and asked, "And she didn't enter a food coma? You really know how to get her driven Tys, you know that?"

Tysiac gave a smirk, "She nearly did. You remember when she took a little longer getting to the sparring mat? That was when she was trying to burn through all the food she ate, so I didn't kick it out of her."

With a laugh, York shook his head before taking a bite of his toast. Just as he did, Wash arrived next. Although his meal was smaller than York's eggs and toast, he reacted no differently to Tysiac's impressive food mountain.

"Fuck, Tys." Wash cursed, "Do you even taste any of that?"

Tysiac gave an eyebrow at him before offering a quick nod. York paused from his eggs to explain to Wash, "Said it's all requirements. Dude's a high performance engine."

"As long as his suit doesn't guzzle gas." The short chupadore muttered as he got started on his meal, getting Tysiac to roll his eyes in response. Part of him wanted to see their reaction on knowing his suit holds a mini fusion reactor.

York elected to change the topic as he spoke up before eating another bite, "So. Any thoughts if Tex is already inside the HQ or if she's still outside trying to get in?"

"Could be either way," Wash shrugged, "though knowing her, she's already found a way to cause trouble, regardless."

Tysiac found a moment to speak, giving his thoughts, "If outside, we'll have to still deal with whatever's stationed there. Her being inside's my primary concern."

Giving a raised eyebrow and finishing his toast, York asked, "How so? Tex's prolly made a mess of them already."

"We're trying to support her, not create a bigger mess," Wash sighed, "If she's already in, we'll have to figure out how to follow her with little attention."

"Agreed," Tysiac said, "We work fast, quiet and precise. We'll clean up any guards she's engaged with, otherwise we will keep to the shadows."

York tapped his chin, "And if she fusses at us and not wanting our help?"

Tysiac gave an unamused stare to the chupadore as he gave a nervous, wide grin in response, "I don't think she'll have that choice. She can be unhappy as she wants, but letting her go alone and do her own thing is stupid. This isn't some adventure or a game. Especially with how I arrived here."

Wash, having finished breakfast first, shook his head, "This is going to go sideways, isn't it?"

Tysiac gave a shrug while York chuckled, "Oh sure, but it'll make a good story later."

Despite Tysiac's large plate, the Spartan had been next to finish his breakfast, with York following behind not soon after. With a quick bit of cleanup, the two chupadores grabbed their gear and armor before meeting up with Tysiac at the Last Word.

Neither York nor Wash had seen the Winter-class Prowler personally. So seeing the sleek and compact corvette was certainly a sight for them until Tysiac gave a quick tour through the interior. Although large on the outside, the Prowler's interior was utilitarian, sacrificing comfort for infiltration, surveillance, and stealth capabilities. Tysiac navigated through the dimly lit interior to turn on some lights. York followed suit, crouching slightly beneath the prowler's exterior. As he went up the ramp and into the much bigger troop bay, York commented, "Cozier than a log cabin, Tys. Is this the equivalent of ONI luxury? Do I get in-flight movies?"

Wash nudged York's shoulder with his arm and gave a look, "Focus, York. We're not here for a grand tour."

Tysiac gave an amused smile, "Not entirely. The Winter-class Prowlers are amongst the smallest of its kind, usually meant for long or high-priority missions. The troop bay's a standard. Plenty of room to store yourself, your weapons, and whatever else you carried." As York and Wash moved deeper into the Prowler, Tysiac fiddled with one of the two consoles that were on either side of the bay and brought the ramp up. Turning away, he let the ramp do its job before making his way to the door at the other end, calling out, "This way."

Coming up the staircase from the pneumatic door, the two chupadores entered a dimly lit, large space. Tysiac keyed in the lights and revealed the expansive room to the Freelancers. Back behind the stairway and what would be above the troop bay was a significantly sized armory, lined with weapons in their racks, lockers and crates of ammunition. Each locker bore the UNSC logo as they contained some of the more advanced weaponry, including a couple of M6/R Spartan Lasers with replacement batteries nearby.

Seeing the armory side of the upper deck of the Last Word, York's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas Day, "Ohohoho, I love what I'm seein'! All stocked and enough ammo to fight a war!" He turned to Tysiac as he came in closer, "Anything exotic, Tys?"

"Keep yourself to standard mission load outs, York."

York chuckled, stepping aside so Wash could inspect. Seeing some rifles, the smaller chupadore asked, "Anything we can take along?" His eyes began drifting towards the racks of rifles with a measured eagerness. Wash's eyes lingered on one particular type of rifle.

Tysiac saw Wash, then identified the weapon: "A BR85HB Battle Service Rifle." It's a more heavy-barreled variant, but still a solid rifle for semi-auto, three-round bursts and full-auto. Gas-operated, good for mid n' long range." Tysiac paused for several moments. He considered on whether he should let the two have access to his armory. Though, after seeing several UNSC Mongoose and a Warthog in the Movement's vehicle pool, Tysiac relented, "... Go ahead and pick that, if you'd like. Just be sure to keep it clean, zero the sights and make sure that I do not regret letting you have it."

Wash happily collected the rifle and gave a small test of lining up the gun to his shoulder and peering down the scope as York continued perusing. As he got deeper, his eyes spotted one weapon before pulling out the M6/V Spartan Laser. York grinned uncontrollably as he picked up the weapon and attempted to figure out how to use it. While Tysiac didn't want him anywhere near that big of a weapon as long as York hadn't found the activation trigger, he wasn't likely to cause trouble.

It was after York figured out that it was shoulder mounted that Tysiac called out to him. The Spartan's amused smile hadn't faded away from seeing the chupadore toy with the Spartan Laser like an innocent kid, "Leave the poor weapon alone, York. It's not needed for small fries."

York turned and gave a whine unbefitting of a soldier, trying to look pitiful as he hugged the Spartan Laser. As adorable as the sight was, especially for a chupadore as big and furry as York, Tysiac couldn't let him have the thing, "No buts, York. Keep it standard and manageable, no time for fireworks."

Making one more look around, York placed the Spartan Laser down and picked out one of the MA5s and followed Wash towards the bridge of the Last Word. Going through another door that separated the armory from the compact but high-tech command center, both Wash and York were ogling at the holographic displays.

"We'll be able to coordinate here once we're closer to Qoppa," Tysiac explained, "While the minimum requirement calls for a commander and a navigator to pilot the Last Word, I've been able to fly her myself. Though a full crew of five can make the fullest use of her."

Wash gave an impressed whistle as he leaned towards the surveillance control console, "You're sure this is the smallest of Prowlers? Looks more like a portable command center with none of the corners cut out."

York reached over towards the Commander's chair and settled down. Despite it not being suited for his height, he looked comfy in it as he sighed and leaned his head back, "I could really love getting into work with this ship." He leaned his head around towards Tysiac as the Spartan made his way to the pilot's chair, "Any chance you'd run a mercenary outfit, or even get a few chupas to learn how to work this girl? We'd be unstoppable if ya did."

Tysiac did not find the mercenary comment funny as he gave a quick look towards the chupadore. He turned back towards the navigations as the engines of Last Word began spooling up as he said, "Unless you want to trade several chupadores to our Prowlers Corps. They're picky and secretive as hell on training people to use Prowlers, and they don't like any of their own training someone that isn't theirs. And thats If they actually decide to trust chupadores."

York gave a small noise of sadness as Tysiac brought the Last Word into the air. Tysiac quickly turned on the stealth cloak as they rose above the canopy to hide both their presence and L-Base's location. A low rumble shook the ship. Wash quickly buckled into the co-pilot seat, his eyes glued to the breathtaking sight from the viewscreens as they soared through Sirca's atmosphere. After pestering Tysiac, York could bring up viewscreens of his own to watch the atmosphere give way to the void of space. Soon, the rumbling came to a stop as air resistance disappeared.

Their reactions on seeing the multitude of stars and an elevated view of the gas giant Sirca orbited on weren't much different from how Bethany's response was. Their eyes were wide with awe, fixated on the viewscreens from the Last Word as it ascended, leaving the forests of Lactan shrouded in mist and silence. The shrinking ring world below filled them with a sense of wonder.

Tysiac guided the ship toward where Constance had told him where to find Qoppa. With Sirca's geography in mind, he directed the navigation to map a route to Qoppa; then, he let the computers handle the rest.

Wash was the first to speak up finally, breaking the silence of the ship as the Last Word broke free of Sirca's gravity, "This is... a lot bigger than I imagined..."

"No kidding," York replied, his voice tinging with quiet reverence, "You hear about it, you see pictures, you get the maps and all but... seeing and being's fuggin' something else..."

A few more seconds of silence before Wash commented, "It's... peaceful and so quiet."

"All part of physics and gravity, Wash." Tysiac replied as he turned to look at the chupadores, "The trip to Qoppa will be a good ten minutes. Go ahead, you two. Unbuckle and enjoy zero-Gs for a bit."

It was only after he offered them to unbuckle did York quickly notice his key necklace was floating, no longer pressing itself against his chest. Without thinking, York unbuckled and straightened his legs as he left the Commander's chair. His sudden movement made York's body nearly fly straight into the roof of the Last Word as his head contacted a dull thud.

York recoiled, a gasp escaping his lips as he rubbed his head with his claws before finding his situation. The impact with the metal ceiling sent York flying forwards, slowly drifting toward Wash and Tysiac. A nervous chuckle escaped him, "Uh.. Okay! How, uh, how do I stop moving and not getting stuck??"

A chuckle escaped Tysiac's lips as he reached up, took hold of York's ankle, and eased him back up to the ceiling. Quickly, York used his claws to stop himself as the momentum of his body pressed against the wall before he gently pushed himself forward. This brought him to move from the navigation and towards the door.

Exhilaration surged through Wash as he unfastened his restraints, embracing the carefree, floating feeling that the chupadore offered. Unease twisted his features as he struggled to turn, his body spinning uselessly, the silence amplifying his disorientation. Wash's lack of control seemed to send a jolt of fear through him as the chupadore inverted; the absence of gravity's pull must feel disquieting and surreal for him.

After watching the chupadore mutter, squirm, and fail to control his momentum, Tysiac unbuckled himself. With a bit of leverage, the Spartan straightened Wash out before sending him towards York after pulling on his arm.

"Hey, hey, whoa!" York cried out as Wash came in and collided with him, making York slowly bounce off the ground and Wash drifted upwards.

"I really hate this! I feel helpless as hell!!" Wash complained as he flailed and struggled to get his bearings in zero gravity. As he began drifting upward toward the ceiling, his stature made it challenging for him to find anything to hold on to.

Tysiac magnetized his boots to the metal flooring of the Last Word as he made his way towards the two. York was the easiest as he had grabbed onto a nearby handhold, though Wash needed to be grabbed by his ankles and gently pull him around and down.

"Small movements, you two," Tysiac said with a smirk, "Just don't flail, and think of yourself like you're a slow arrow that can ricochet." He opened the bridge door, guiding the chupadores into the Last Word's larger interior for their amusement.

Tysiac would have closed the door and leave them to their new environmental experience, if he hadn't noticed some crates in the armory were currently drifting around, and seeing a certain group of misfits. Wash's reaction was much more immediate than Tysiac's, "Oh you have got to be fucking kidding..."

With a huge grin and eyes sparkling with delight, Tucker was obviously having the time of his life. The wide and excited grin on his face was apparent as he said quietly to Caboose and Church, floating past the unhappy werewolf, "Oh my god, this is fucking awesome!! We're in space!!"

A dopey grin plastered across his face, Caboose kicked off the floor, spinning wildly, his movements clumsy and joyful, a soft thud accompanying each kick. His small, furred and four eyed pet was nearly motionless, the aspect of no gravity appearing to render its mind clueless on what to do or how to handle the weightless environment. Church, in the meantime, had kept his claws gripped on one locker as he muttered, "Fucking great. Just... This bullshit... Why the fuck doesn't that asshole have something for this?"

"Oh my god, Church," Tucker gave an exasperated laugh, "Lighten up! We're in space! It's the coolest thing ever! I've always wanted to, and thought the Blue Army might have some space program for us to do this, but they never had one!" He pushed off one wall and began sailing towards the main section of the Last Word before he realized that York, Wash and an increasingly irritated Tysiac were watching them.

His enjoyment quickly cut short as the turquoise chupadore gave a nervous laugh, "Uh, hahaha. Hi, so ahh... Funny story?" Tucker's head quickly met the metal wall as he forgot to pay attention to where he was drifting, making him cut short as he curled up and brought his claws to his head in pain.

"Tucker, I'm not interes -- oooh boy..." Church had grumbled before finding out who Tucker was talking about as York began making his way towards the floating crates of ammunition and to get them under control.

"Hi, Tizzymac!" Caboose waved a claw enthusiastically as he continued spinning, "Did you know we're in space?!"

Wash folded his arms after giving a light push to let Tysiac by, "Church. Why the fuck are you here?"

"Oh. Well, so you're only angry at him." Tucker pointed out, with Church immediately giving a glare at the chupadore, "Ok, cool. So we'll just go--"

Unfortunately, Tysiac grabbed Tucker first as he grabbed him by his robes and pushed him back towards the rest of his team. Tysiac turned his attention to Church and demanded, "Do you have a case of needing to bring yourself to those not giving your attitude attention, or is this a special case of feeling like you needed to follow us, Church?"

"Oh, fuck you!" Church immediately retorted, letting go of the locker to cross his arms as he began, "Did I interrupt your very important mission to brood and grunt at people? Maybe you should take a moment sitting in some dark corner and wonder why nobody likes you!"

A very strong idea of encasing the shirtless werewolf in lockdown paint for the rest of the flight came to the forefront of Tysiac's mind as he guided himself closer. He growled, "That's not answering my question."

"Why the fuck should I answer it?" Church snapped, "You're chasing after Tex and I'm going too. End of the damn story, rust bucket."

Wash, after trying to navigate his way towards another ammo crate, looked over at Church with exasperation, "Geesus, you're a fucking pup." He ignored Church's quick middle finger as he continued, "You stow away on an alien's ship, which belongs to another species with plenty enough ammo, weapons, and armor to fight a god, and you decide that's your reason?"

"Would you like part two of my reason?" Church's tone was explosive as he brought another middle finger at Wash, "Didn't realize I needed your fucking permission on anything! Because unlike some people around here, I actually give a shit about Tex!"

"You've an annoying way of demonstrating how much you 'care', Church." Tysaic retorted, magnetizing his boots to stop short of the floating werewolf, "Acting like the pig-headed brat every time her name comes up, chasing after her like a lost pup, and has tantrums even when she's with you?"

Church turned his attention around, "Oh, don't even start the fucking lectures on me. You don't know a damn thing about us."

Tysiac folded his arms, "Actually I do. I've a good tendency to listen and learn. And you want to talk about caring? Let me clue you in, I do care about people, a lot more than your dimly lit head can come to figure it out. The difference is that I don't turn into a fucking disaster zone that makes the people I care about feel that they need to leave."

Church visibly reacted to something Tysiac said, his expression betraying a moment of fear, anxiety, and vulnerability. Tysiac continued in a steady and unrelenting tone, "Running after Beth, throwing yourself at her uninvited or even unwanted, is not considered helping. And neither does this make you protect her, like she's some damsel in distress, and you being her shining knight. This," He motioned to Church as the werewolf begun to turn upside down, "Is pushing her away from you."

Church tried to make a comeback at the Spartan's words, even as the werewolf had to grab onto a locker to stop from hitting the wall and floor. Yet as he opened his mouth, his words died out before any sound left him. Tysiac finished by pointing a finger hard into Church's chest, "It's only now I'm getting that you are chasing her because she's moving on without you. And going off and acting like this proves her right."

With that, Tysiac turned and collected a floating Wash who was trying to drag his ammo crate to help him secure it. The chupadore werewolf's expression didn't change from being irritated and angry, but he couldn't bring himself to find something to retort back other than mutter a weak insult, "Fucking asshole..."

Tysiac, ignoring him, floated to the Last Word bridge. Wash gave a look at Church, though he seemed to be satisfied enough with Tysiac's last words. He turned away and made a small leap to follow Tysiac. Tucker slowly drifted in as he asked rather awkwardly, "Is... This a part where we hug it out? Maybe talk about something else?"

York gave a sigh as he pushed off one wall and said as he successfully grabbed Tucker by the back of his robes and catching Caboose's leg, "Alright, kids. Let's check out the troop bay and relax a bit."

Delighted by the decision, Caboose spread his limbs out and exclaimed, "Oh boy! A field trip! I love those! Do we get to go to the gift shop? I really like the frisbees."

York smirked as he began a conversation with Tucker about space, which seemed to cheer up the turquoise chupadore before Tysiac closed the door with Wash floating in and trying to halt his momentum.

The Spartan gave a sigh as Wash muttered, "That... went about as I'd expect."

Tysiac gave a brief glance to him, "Ever been told how good you're getting with understatements?" He gave a small push around the corner before reaching for the navigation seat.

Wash shook his head, running a claw through his yellow hair, "I just... don't get him. It's like he's fucking addicted to make everything harder for himself and drag everyone else with him."

"I think it's because he's scared," Tysiac summed as he began working with the controls to check the Last Word's trajectory.

Wash looked over as he buckled down at the technician station, "Of what?"

"Being left behind," Tysiac explained, "Or being irrelevant to those he still cares about. I don't believe he knows how to handle someone like Beth moving on and not staying still."

Wash fell silent, his brow furrowing and mulling over the statement. After a moment he sighed again, "Doesn't give him the right acting like an asshole."

"No." Tysiac agreed, his voice firm, "But it explains it. And if he keeps dragging himself and others down like this, once interactions between the Movement and ONI start, he might end up getting left behind in psych-eval and being poked and prodded to get something cooked for your werewolves." He flicked a few switches before giving a systems check to ensure that the Last Word didn't pick up an unfriendly presence, "Something I'd say would be even worse than how he's feeling now."

Wash's frown deepened as he leaned to look over at Tysiac, "You're talking as if they'll use him as a case study for the werewolf experiments in your ONI."

Tysiac gave a nod, "That's exactly what I meant. If he doesn't figure out how to stop sabotaging himself and his relationships with others, that's what'll likely await him. It's possible Bethany will visit just to keep him calm and not make him lose his mind in whatever misery he's got."

The Spartan leaned back in his seat and kept his eyes on the console's readouts, "But ONI won't have much patience with him. If you guys accept ONI's offer in helping and solve Project Werewolf, Church and York will be the first ones they'll take up and request as much info you guys have on the augmentations."

Tysiac didn't hear Wash for a few minutes as the Last Word continued to speed through the void in between Sirca. Soon, the Spartan heard the chupadore speak up again, though his voice was lower and felt worried, "Tysiac... How... Likely will ONI actually fix the hypnotoxins? For York, Church and the other werewolves?"

He didn't respond for a while. It wasn't that the question took him by surprise, but the weight he could feel from Wash gave him reason to think how best to answer it. Did he have doubts that ONI could get such a thing done? No. Afterall, the creation of Spart... Oh right...

Halsey just might have something. Whether she'll do it out of the kindness of her heart, make an example of what augmentation can truly be in pride of her work, or as a means to establish her pride and capabilities over the Director... Perhaps something to think on later.

Tysiac finally admitted, "I'm not certain. ONI has always been good at solving problems they care about, the issue is when it's convenient for them."

He could hear the metal slightly groan over by Wash's seat, "That's..." His voice gave a small gasp before he steadied himself, "That's not good enough. York doesn't deserve going through this. None of them do. But York..."

Tysaic gave a small glance towards Wash before he unbuckled himself from the seat. He magnetized himself to the ceiling as he walked over. Raising a hand, he reached and placed it on Wash's shoulder, making him look towards the upside down Spartan.

The two stared at each other as Tysaic said quietly, "I get it." Wash didn't respond as he continued, "I've been seeing how close you and York get. And while it's not something said outright," He gave a small smirk of amusement, "and you're shy as all hell to even say it, but it's written all over you."

Wash's eyes widened a little before he looked away. Though his fur began puffing up to an almost comical amount as he muttered, "We're not... I just... He's..." Wash's voice trailed away as Tysiac couldn't help but notice that the chupadore looked like a fuzzball.

Restricting himself to a soft chuckle, to not make Wash feel like he's being made fun of, Tysiac gave a small jump and brought his boots around. Landing upright next to Wash, Tysiac gave a small pat on his shoulder, "It's not bad to say you like him more than as a friend, Wash."

The chupadore only sputtered and muttered, "Look, it... It's not like there's some... It doesn't matter what we are." He said as he tried to calm himself, "He just matters to me a lot, okay? I don't want to lose him to this."

"You care about him more than you'll let on." Tysiac summed, "And that's a good thing, Wash."

Wash exhaled and tried to run his claws through his hair and neck to smooth down his fur, "Everytime I keep seeing he's bottling up, pretending things are okay. And with Church being the way he is and how the hypnotoxins are doing all that to him..."

"You feel like you're watching York go through that?"

Wash stiffened, his jaw tightened as Tysiac could see his teeth being bared, "Y-yeah." He gave a glance up to Tysiac and asked, "Is there a chance?"

Tysiac didn't hesitate, "There's always a chance. Just means we have to navigate and think our way through it, but there's ways." His attention went back towards nagivation and noticed on the viewscreens that their journey through space was coming to an end, "Better strap in, we're about to hit atmosphere."

With a final pat on Wash's shoulders, Tysiac moved to the commander seat of the Last Word and brought up the ships intercom, "Attention, all passengers. We're approaching atmosphere, find yourself a seat and buckle up. I don't want to find that I need to scrape one of you off the walls or floor."

He pushed himself off before catching the chair at navigation and began going through another systems check while he guided the prowler into a controlled descent. He could bet there was grumbling from Church as he likely would require York's help in getting to a seat and Tucker being unhappy to leave so soon.

After another minute, the first shudder rocked the ship as it pierced through the upper atmosphere. The turbulence was faint and brief, though it quickly intensified as the hull began vibrating a little from the layers of atmosphere.

The shuddering didn't last forever as the Last Word reached the lower atmosphere, the flow of re-entry dissipating from the viewscreens as the rugged and industrialized terrain came into view.

York came through the door after the Last Word's flight smoothed out, "Blues are all down in the troop bay. Church wasn't happy being guided around like a kid, but he wasn't as unhappy as Tucker was." He gave a smirk as he moved over to the commander seat, "Pretty sure he'll never leave you alone on wanting to go back up, Tys."

Tysiac gave a small smile, "Well, if things go smoothly as this between the Movement and the UNSC, he might find himself somewhere he can occupy himself all he likes."

"If, things went smoothly," Wash commented, his voice a little bitter and weak.

York was noticably quick to recognize what was going on with Wash, as he hopped off of his seat and went over to the shorter chupadore. Tysiac left them to their personal talk as he focused on flying more than prying.

Qoppa was the industrial zone of Sirca and Omega's little feifdom. As the Last Word came around and flew silently above the small cities of steel mills, deep mining facilities and past the billowing smokestacks, York and Wash gave a worried look around the viewscreens. "You're certain they can't see us at all?" Wash asked nervously.

"They'll hear a bit of noise from the engines, but yes. We're invisible to radar, sight and other means of detection." Tysiac reassured.

York looked over and raised an eyebrow, "Invisible to everything? Damn, Tys. What don't you guys have?"

"You'd be unhappy what we don't." Tysiac muttered as he brought the Prowler to pass through the bleak, urban hive of industry like a ghost.

York still kept his eyes on the viewscreen, seeing the fiery glow of the steel mills below them as he muttered, "Feels real weird flying this low. Makes me feel like someone's gonna notice and start sending flak or fighters at us."

"We won't." Tysiac replied, "Not unless Qoppa has a tendency of just detonating bombs in the air for nothing at random hours of the day." Their nerves started to ease as they left much of the inhabited area behind and sped into the Devil's Salt Flats.

The vast and desolate land stretched across the viewscreens of the Qoppa territory. The ground was cracked and dry as dust and sand were sent billowing as the Last Word touched down gently. All around except for the very front of the Prowler was nothing but a barren expanse where there didn't seem to be any flora existing in such a place.

What lay at the front of the bow of the ship was the Devil's Cauldron, where great flashes of lightning danced across the clouded skies and towards the ground.

Tysiac powered down the engines and brought the ship out of cloak as he rose from his seat and donned his helmet, "Time to go, team."

"Team, ey?" York smirked, following shortly behind, "Got a name for us to go with it?"

The Spartan rolled his eyes in amusement, "No name, though might change depending on how well ONI sees us operate. My report might get a name for it."

"You mind if I throw a few names out?"

"Later, fuzzball." Tysiac chuckled, "Let's get this mission done before we can give the operation a name."

The three met up with the Blues before Tysiac began lowering the ramp. No one had much to say about the salt flats around them as they left the ship. After disembarking and bringing the ramp back up, Tucker was the first to ask, "Where are we, exactly?"

"Fucking hell, there's nothing for miles here!" Church complained as Tysiac, Wash and York began moving towards the storm.

"That's the point, my friend." York answered, "We're at the Devil's Cauldron." York gave a gesture towards the storms, "Freelancer HQ uses that storm to keep itself hidden from any unwanted eyes."

A recent strike of lightning hit a nearby metal rod, which sent Caboose into a mild panic, "Lightning and I aren't friends." He added shakily.

Tucker gave a look at Caboose as he said, "You could just stay in th--"

"No." Tysiac cut the chupadore short, "I'm not leaving Caboose in the Last Word. He's likely to make a nuclear crater by the time we come back."

York gave a solomn nod, "Yeah. Given my time with him, he'd make one hell of a mess."

"I'm not abandoning my best friend in his hour of mead!" Caboose complained, though his head quickly swiveled when another burst of electricity shot by.

Wash gave a sigh as he waved a hand forwards, "The rocks and lightning rods guide us and keep the lightning away. Just stay on the path and you'll be fine."

Tucker looked around before retorting, "Yo, what path? There's no yellow brick road, Dorothy!"

Tysiac paused for a moment to look at Tucker, mostly out of surprise on knowing the reference before he responded, "It's the path we're about to leave you three behind on if you don't keep up!"

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.