1000 HOURS, NOVEMBER 15, 2554 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR)
HALO INSTALLATION: SIRCA--QOPPO: DEVIL'S CAULDRON--ENROUTE TO FREELANCE HEADQUARTERS

The trek through the Devil's Cauldron was almost like walking through a terrible hurricane of noise and thunder. The path Wash and York led Tysiac and the Blues through felt as if they were soon to be struck at any moment by the flashing lightning. Several times, a nearby lightning rod or tall rock would suddenly ignite in a flash of lightning before the roar of thunder startled the Blues, making Caboose shake. It often led to Caboose get very close to Church, as if being on all fours and the Werewolf chupadore within touching proximity was protection enough for Caboose.

Church could do nothing about it other than tell Caboose to grab his tail and keep up. Caboose obliged happily by taking Church's tail in his mouth, which only made Church seem grumpier than ever, while Tucker gave a silent snicker at his teammate's misfortune. After a few jump-scares and feeling the static electricity run through his fur, Church gave a growl as he felt a few static shocks, "Why do we have to walk through this..." He griped. However, none of the others bothered to answer him.

The silence didn't continue as Church began muttering, "I still don't get it. Why did Tex take off like this? What's she even doing out here?"

Wash gave a glance towards York before answering, shouldering the battle rifle that Tysiac allowed him to have, "She's going after the Director of the Freelancer Division."

Tucker's attention perked up as he raised an eyebrow, "The guy who made all those werewolves? Same dude?"

York nodded grimly, "Same dude."

Church didn't seem satisfied with the answer, "The fuck does she get out of it? Why now?"

"Wash?" York asked, making Wash come to a stop and give a long sigh. Tysiac paused as well, while he was more interested in talking and walking, whatever was driving Bethany would certainly clear up all that was going on.

"Tex..." Wash started before trailing off. He brought his arms up and crossed them, "A few weeks ago, we had a group that we keep in touch with northeast of Sampi ask a favor from us. Tex volunteered and went alone. Turns out they needed someone with top-level Freelance clearance to get into something. What they found was..." Wash trailed off again, as if he was attempting to figure out the best way to word it, "Something sensitive."

Church gave a low growl, "The fuck's that mean?"

Tysiac saw the answer as less than ideal as well, as he came closer so only Wash would hear him, "Wash, I'll need to know, eventually. If it's something big that means trouble for Sirca and beyond, I need to know it. Otherwise, it's spelling trouble later on."

Tucker gave an exasperated sigh as he chimed in, "Fuck, I know this one. The girls always say they want a sensitive guy, but the first time you cry after sex, they're all turned off. Total hypoclits."

Tysiac could not stop himself from turning to look at Tucker. Of all things the kid had to have left his mouth, from a quick innuendo to a dirty joke, this one was not the one he expected to come out.

York wasn't even showing half the surprise the Spartan had. The yellow chupadore punched the bridge of his muzzle as he said, "I'm not even going to unpack that, Tucker. Don't bring that up again..."

"I don't care about what the fuck that was or what love life Tucker thinks he's got." Church scowled, his frustration bubbling over, "What did Tex find?!"

Wash turned to face Church directly, "It's just something big, alright? Big enough she went radio silent after finding it." He turned around and started walking off, "It's all I can say."

"Can't say, or you don't want to say?" Caboose mysteriously spoke up with significant clarity.

The chupadore paused for a moment, "I-its just sensitive information."

Tysiac's eyes narrowed. If its something related to the Halo itself in terms of either Flood containment or the Control Room, then he needs to know. He kept his tone steady, but insistent, "Wash. If it's something I'm suspecting or fearing to suspect; then I need to know. You're staring down what'll force contact between your species and mine. It'll be bigger than just Bethany or us handling this. It'll lead to me to call in ONI, so the longer you're holding back, the worse this might get."

He wouldn't dare leave the Flood alone as "sensitive information," regardless whether they were safely contained or not. Doubly so if its Sirca's primary function. Wash gave a worried glance at the Spartan. However, he only tightened his jaw and said nothing further. York's worried look was something Tysiac would've shared with him, but given Wash's reluctance, the group could only press on. The surrounding storm seemed to intensify around them.

Reaching the front gates of Freelancer HQ was... Not a promising sight. No guards were visible as the massive metal doors between the two mesas gaped open. Risking to get closer, Tysiac's motion tracker found nothing. The only motion it caught was his own, and the team he motioned to follow.

"Motion tracker's clean." Tysiac muttered to Wash.

The chupadore glanced at the Spartan with incredulity, "Shouldn't be possible. The place should crawl with activity everywhere..."

York had taken cover behind one side of the metal doors and quietly pointed, "Over there."

Following where he was showing, Tysiac could see a motorcycle of familiar make, "Looks like Beth's bike. She made it in cleanly, given theres barely damage out here..." Something was off. The only time someone entered a military base with clear history of an open rebellious nature was if...

"Yeah." York replied in a low tone before moving his claw, "And look who else is here."

There were several black-marked vehicles further down the road to the entrance of the base. One of them was in the shape of a vehicle troop transport, fit with both a turret and a sensor dish while another was another transport with neither turret nor dish equipped on it. On the sides of them both was a white text embroidered with the word 'HADES' with the emblem of the House of Omega.

"Ho'shit." Tucker's eyes widened as he recognized the name, "HADES??"

Wash was just as unhappy to see it, "Damnit, what the hell are they doing here?"

Tysiac gave a glance towards the two chupadores, "I'm guessing they're spec-ops?"

York gave a nod, "Elite and High-Sec at that. They're often the first response from The House when something or someone pissed them off for a reason or another."

Tysiac looked again at his tracker, "Still clean. Let's move in. Quiet as we can."

None of the chupadores complained as they followed the Spartan, though Wash stopped by one checkpoint station and looked over at one of the bloodied and shot up corpses. Seeing that multiple gunshot wounds did it, Wash gave a sad frown, "Shit... Can't believe this. Why's the House raiding Freelancer?"

"Director must've pissed them off, too." York theorized.

"Enough that they're still here." Tysiac replied, making a motion towards the inside of the Freelancer base, "Got movement and gunfire coming from in there. Move up. Blues, keep out of line of fire."

Tucker raised one claw up a little, "Better suggestion. Can we just go back to the ship and not be here at all?"

Caboose gave a cheery grin, "I think this is fun! It's like we're in a scary story, except it's daylight out..." He gave a look around as he added, "Or are the clouds dark enough to call it night?"

Both Freelancers and Spartan ignored the three, including Church's own grumbling as they moved closer, the sound of gunfire growing louder, punctuated by the occasional shouts of orders or screams of pain. With Church giving a grumble on how they were going to die, the Blues had little option but to follow the only three people with them capable of fighting.

The Freelancer Base's interior was a cacophony of sounds--the whirring of machinery, shouted commands, and the metallic clang of tools--a stark contrast to the courtyard's eerie calm. Extensive bullet damage marred the walls, offering scant protection to the defending Freelancers; a grim layer of debris and shell casings crunched underfoot, a testament to the intensity of the battle. The slightly damaged Freelancer logo dominated the enormous central atrium, hanging high on the wall, its chipped paint hinting at a weathered history. A brutal stalemate gripped both Freelancers and HADES: The Freelancers desperately held their ground, using overturned furniture and high ground for cover, while HADES troops slowly overwhelmed them with superior firepower and precise tactics.

Wash, peering at Tysiac from behind the doorway, whispered, "What's the plan, Tys?"

In a flash of strategic thinking, Tysiac knew what to relay: "The base is under attack by HADES; the Freelancers are being cleaned out. Our best option is to help them; we haven't located Bethany," Tysiac said, watching the battle, "We'll take them from the side and the rear. York, Wash: Keep to the left and center, I'll hit them to the right."

York gave a smirk, "Sounds good. On you or us, Tys?"

Tysiac, after a fleeting glance at the Blues, commanded: "Three of you, stay by the entrance, use the walls and pillars for cover, and move to a position behind the Freelancers." He gazed towards York and gave the instruction, "Wait for me, and then open fire when you're ready."

Tucker scowled, "The hell do we do if we get caught in the crossfire?"

"Then don't stay in the crossfire." Tysiac bluntly told him, wondering why the ridiculous question.

He didn't pause for their response, but with a decisive turn to the right, he left them behind. His augmented speed, enhanced by the MJOLNIR's powerful systems, allowed him to swiftly reach the HADES front. He found cover behind a sturdy pillar, the cold, hard stone provided ample cover and perfectly flanking his enemies. With a glance at York and Wash flanking left, the Spartan's hand tightened on his weapon before he quickly aimed. York unleashed a hail of gunfire, the sharp crack of his weapon followed by the screams of surprised HADES soldiers hit from behind. Wash, seeing a HADES troop trying to sneak past the barricades to flank the Freelancer defenders, swiftly joined the fight and took the chupadore down.

Tysiac burst from his cover; the sharp scent of cordite filled the air as his MA5D roared, unleashing a storm of lead that ripped through the enemy lines. Though the HADES soldiers were highly skilled, rigorously trained elite spec-ops, the possibility of facing a Spartan was far from their expectations; the sounds of battle were a symphony of clashing steel and desperate cries. The surprise attack from behind, coupled with their current battle exhaustion, left them vulnerable and easy targets for the human.

With a powerful surge, he slammed into a soldier, yanking the chupadore's neck with a swift motion, and sending him sprawling back toward where Tysiac came from; the impact echoing with a thud as his attention were on the others. His MA5D roared in controlled bursts, the sound echoing through the battlefield, cutting down three opponents before they even knew he was there. A fourth man, aware of the danger, swung his rifle in Tysiac's direction. However, his armor's energy shield activated instantly, absorbing the attack with a flare of light, causing the HADES trooper to stagger and lose his footing.

Tysiac twisted the rifle in his hands and swung it like a bat, the sickening crunch of metal against metal accompanying the soldier's pained cry. The Spartan heard the sickening thud of the soldier hitting the ground before turning to face the next group, his heart pounding in his chest. The squad was slowly realizing his presence, but several soldiers had already raised their weapons and were taking aim at the Spartan. Reacting quickly, Tysiac snatched the still-warm body of the HADES soldier, using it as a shield before hurling it at the oncoming troops; the soldier's blood splattering against Tysiac's armor. As the corpse sailed through the air, a grotesque arc against red light of the storm above and outside. He lashed out with a kick and a fist, felling two soldiers instantly before the impact of the corpse's fall sent the rest crashing to the ground.

"Fall back!!" A HADES Officer barked, "RE-"

Tysiac cut the officer off before he could complete his command, his hand steadily drew his pistol. The shot rang out, bringing a brutal punctuated end to the officer, collapsing without a sound. He fired his MA5D with his other hand; the hot recoil bucking in his grip as the remaining targets crumpled.

The sudden end to the fierce exchange of gunfire left the Freelancers stunned and hesitant. Tysiac's display of effortless power, slicing through HADES with terrifying speed, seemed to have left them questioning their own survival in his presence. Then, from the Freelancer lines, Bethany emerged as she announced, "Easy, guys. He's on our side."

The sight of Bethany made Tysiac's temper shorten as he nearly slammed the pistol back to its holster at his side. He approached as Bethany smirked, stepping over the makeshift barricades of stacked tires and broken furniture, a triumphant glint in her eye, "Took you guys long enough."

Church's voice was quick to make himself known, "Woman, are you serious??"

Bethany rolled her eyes as Tysiac demanded, his voice cold and sharp, "Sitrep."

Her smirk faltered slightly as she glanced around before turning back to Tysiac, "HQ's running on skeleton crews. HADES barged in with no warning and started blasting at us. The Director left behind everyone here just before the shooting started." She gave a growl at the memory, "Bastard seemed to know they were coming."

York and Wash advanced, carefully surveying the scene, and began their grim task of counting the few remaining Freelancers. One Freelancer called out, "Rico's bleeding out, I can't-"

Another Freelancer responded as they came around to help. Tysiac reached behind to a part of his belt and tossed over a cannister of Biofoam to the kneeling soldier, who barely caught it with a hand. He shortly instructed the Freelancer, "Pull the nozzle, put it on the wound. Press the lever and use it till it's out. It'll stabilize him temporarily, get him medical supplies."

Tysiac spun around as the Freelancer gave a shaky nod, and the Blues wandered in, their steps hesitant at the recent memory of the Spartan's work. He raised his voice and did his best to make him sound he wasn't interested in being second-guessed, "Block the entrance. Reinforce this position and secure the atrium."

He turned back towards Bethany and asked, "Is he still here?"

"Yeah," Bethany nodded, her face a mask of composure, though a faint tremor in her jaw hinted at inner turmoil.

"Good. We're going after him." There was still time and plenty of things Tysiac wanted. This included physically dragging the Director to ONI. Twisted and shit, his werewolf project was. Tysiac gave a small glance towards Bethany as he added in a quieter tone, "I want to talk later about your lone wolf routine, Beth."

That brought her expression to a frown as Rico gave a wide eyed, loud gasp of pain from the Biofoam being injected, giving a wet cough as his eyes flickered left and right. Though she didn't utter a cutting remark, the way she huffed and turned away conveyed her annoyance perfectly. Her vibrant red hair spun as she led Tysiac deeper into the Freelancer HQ, the sounds of York and Wash's approaching footsteps echoing in the metallic corridors. Further off, Church's panicked shouts were barely audible above the hum of the facility. No doubt they were going to catch up to him, regardless of whether they had any idea or clue what they were following for.

Their first descent was via a large elevator; the humming of its machinery filled the air as it effortlessly carried the chupadores, Spartans, and Tysiac in his heavy MJOLNIR armor without issue. Tysiac wasn't in the mood for small talk; he was still upset about Bethany leaving without him or with the Movement. On top of everything else, she acted with her confident indifference, acting as if she had expected both him and the others to show up.

Tysiac wasn't oblivious to the irony; his career had been mostly similar. Many of his missions, tasks and other black inked operations had been fit for only a single agent, even before he successfully gotten ONI to approve his request into becoming a Spartan. However, when he worked with a fellow agent or soldier... Knowing his teammate might even be unaware of his mission, it did not stop Tysiac from remaining steadfast to the principles of teamwork.

As Jun-A266 once reminded him during his training, 'Being the best or fastest doesn't make anyone good outside of competitions. Forgetting your team leads you to being alone at the wrong moment. And that's killed Spartans. Teamwork isn't a crutch; it's a force multiplier. You're not slowed down carrying or dragging others, you're keeping each other stronger.'

Bethany may not be a Spartan. Hell, she probably would've counted as an ODST, given her attitude and arrogant confidence. But this insistence was putting everyone at risk. What if he had been slow in showing up? How many more of the skeleton crew would she have lost before being cornered and gunned down? And what if Tysiac or York and Wash didn't chase after her?

A slight tremor ran through the elevator as it reached its floor, causing Tysiac to push aside the thoughts swirling in his head. With a smooth and silent sliding motion, the door revealed the cold, sterile, and eerily silent corridors of the abandoned Freelancer facility, bathed in the harsh glow of flickering fluorescent lights. Though spacious, the corridors felt slightly claustrophobic; the echoing silence amplified the feeling of isolation. A soft, ethereal glow from the pale-blue lights guided them as Bethany silently led the group further in; the faint hum of the lights was the only other sound in the otherwise still environment.

York broke the silence, his voice light but edged with unease, "Man, it's weird seeing the place so empty... Sure, it's always been a little spooky, but it's like walking through a ghost story now..."

Wash kept himself close to York as he kept the battle rifle close by, "Empty's good. Means no one to stop us or shoot us on sight...." His eyes turned towards Bethany as they continued down another hallway, "We'll need to cut through restricted areas if we want to get to the Director's office. I take it you have codes, Tex?"

Bethany didn't turn to glance at Wash, however, she spoke with a cool tone, "Just trust me."

Tysiac didn't trust her cavalier response so easily. Bethany's tendency to be a loner was a problem, further compounded by her unwillingness to speak up in the unknown and potentially dangerous territory. The Spartan checked his motion tracker again. There was nothing. Just them, moving silently through the deserted corridors.

Another elevator ride and a walk down a long, stale, antiseptic-smelling corridor led to a cavernous chamber, its immensity starkly revealed under the cold, harsh glare of fluorescent lighting from above. The octagonal room stretched before them, its second level a high balcony overlooking the main floor; rhythmic sound of Tysiac's heavy boots and the soft padding of the chupadores echoing back down to them. Stained, scratched, and slightly damaged heavy-duty training equipment of strange variety and clearly defined training areas dominated the room; a large screen displaying a scoreboard of the top five Freelancer names overlooked the group. "TEXAS" could be seen at number one.

Bethany strode forwards, ignoring the leaderboard and without fear of an ambush, leading to Tysiac once again check the motion tracker and moving behind her after finding nothing again.

Church behind him started slowly leaving the group as he looked around. Tysiac gave a glance to see what was wrong, seeing Church's gaze sweep over the vast and variety of equipment placed around throughout the room. After a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, "What... is all this?"

Bethany didn't answer immediately as she continued onwards. Wash slowed down enough for Church to hear him, York slowing with him, "This is where they trained you. As well as other werewolves." His voice remained steady but seemed to have an edge of pity, "The Counselor and his team 'worked' with you here."

"Worked, being a very loose term." York commented, his eyes looking down towards the center section, where it was a shallow pit with a sparring arena situated over a pool of water, flanked with floating logs and two cement platforms opposite of each other.

Were one to ask Tysiac, as he gave glances and brought up his recorder on his helmet, the Counselor and his team seemed more interested in torturing the werewolves.

Church stared at one particular equipment, a massive glass sphere placed over an electrified grid. The faint arcs of blue electricity crackled idly underneath. The field itself emitted a low hum, and the glass was flawed with numerous scratches, as if someone had been desperate to get out or run to keep themselves alive as best they could. A small flicker of something crossed Church's muzzle, "I don't remember any of this..." he muttered, either as if to convince himself or feel frustrated he didn't remember at all.

York gave a sidelong glance, "You're luckier than you think, then. None of this was fun."

Bethany's pace slightly slowed, but Tysiac could see her claws forming tight fists with the occasional shake. He raised his voice a little, "We need to keep moving. We're out in the open and this place isn't secure."

The chupadore woman glanced at him; her darkened expression briefly showed before she masked it. She nodded at him and began leading the group deeper in through the facility. Past a few restricted doors that Bethany could use codes to get them by and their path resulted in a new room.

Tysiac took a careful look around, ensuring the recorder could read and see what he was finding. Seeing shelves and file cabinets labeled with Greek letters and Roman numerals, the Spartan, recognizing the meticulous organization, guessed this was the evidence room; the air hung heavy with the scent of old paper and dust. The vast room was chilly, the metallic scent of the cabinets mixing with the musty odor of aging documents; rows upon rows stretched into the dim distance, each meticulously labeled cabinet a testament to the lives Project Werewolf had destroyed. Though Tysiac felt no air in his armor, the Freelancers' reactions suggested a mausoleum-like atmosphere.

Bethany's pace hesitated often, her claws tightening at the doorframe. She seemed frozen for a moment, her cold exterior cracking as she hesitantly moved through the room. Tysiac could easily see the pain etched on her face, despite the chupadore's efforts to hide it. There wasn't he could say that would've helped either of them at the moment as he began perusing, letting the recorder take in the lost lives and sad tales the dead carried.

The group silently dispersed, cautiously exploring around. York's path took him towards one shelf as his eyes fell on one labeled cabinet. From what Tysiac could see, the cabinet held the label 'AI'. However, something about it made York bring his head to lean heavily against the cabinet, one claw resting over the box as he seemed lost.

Wash was at his side, whispering something to York as they began a silent conversation with each other.

Caboose wasn't as silent as he could barely keep himself contained, "Look at all the toy boxes they have!"

"Damnit Caboose, don't touch anything." Church complained as the deep blue chupadore skittered around on all fours.

"But they all smell like sweaty hot dogs!" Caboose complained as he opened one box and turned even more ecstatic, "Oh my god! I had one of these!" He pulled out a small toy that had a spinner with pictures of animals on it, "Gramma used to make the ducks sing for me!"

The child-minded chupadore quickly pulled on the string, which made the toy spoke. Tysiac was quick to move towards Caboose as the toy had picked a pig. Just as it was about to give the sound, the Spartan snatched the toy away and held it by the string to prevent it from making any further noise. He kept his voice calm as he reprimanded the chupadore, "Don't do that. It will make the bad wolves show up and make Church into one."

His wide-eyed innocence made him look sad as he quickly, and seemingly understandingly, responded, "Ooh, okay." Caboose's mind swiftly provided a different justification as he gave a confused expression to the Spartan, stating, "There are no grandmas or little red riding pups around here..."

Tysiac didn't answer as he placed the toy back in and carefully ensured that the resultant noise wouldn't be audibly heard by Church, as he didn't know if all animal noises set him off or only chickens. With Church showing up and venting his own frustration on the chupadore, Tysiac made his way back to recording some cabinets.

Tucker was nearby as he looked into one labeled to Church's markings, 'αXIII'. Opening it up, the contents he found were simply a stuffed toy wolf and a small handbell. Tysiac leaned slightly to see it as well as the turquoise chupadore muttered, "This... really explains a lot of what's here..."

Tysiac gave a grim nod, "It's more than just an archive room, this is all the belongings that triggered werewolves and deactivated them." The two stared at the contents before the Spartan gave a slow tap on Tucker's shoulder, a feeling of pity and sorrow was clear, "Leave everything behind. All that's here are graves for people who didn't climb out."

"...Yeah..." Tucker replied with a bit of sympathy, closing the cabinet. His thoughts seemed to make the chupadore give an unhappy frown as he went back towards Church and Caboose.

Tysiac moved on. Occasionally, he opened one cabinet to see its contents, though he didn't dare interact with them. Tysiac noticed the label 'ΩII' on one cabinet. The walls of the drawer had been damaged, as if to tell that someone had frequented the file cabinet far too many times. As he slowly opened the drawer, a peculiar object, precariously balanced on two legs, caught his eye as it seemed haphazardly placed against the back. As the drawer opened further, revealing a small, ornate metal music box, its precarious balance tipped, sending it tumbling with a clang and the emission of a few haunting, melancholic notes.

A brief blip on his motion tracker alerted him to Bethany's presence near the doorway, making him swiftly glance towards the entrance. Her tail had nearly turned straight. The red tassel at the end of her tail bristled, as if electricity had shocked her. And she visibly tensed her shoulders, her claws splaying open as if terribly startled. Her head had turned towards Tysiac, and what he saw unsettled him.

Bethany's face caved to an expression the Spartan had never seen before: Fear. Deep, personal fear, and a terrible vulnerability. Her eyes had widened as her breathing quickened as the woman was desperately trying to ground herself.

Tysiac needed no more proof to know what he had stumbled upon. Looking back at the fallen over music box, he eased the box towards the center of the drawer. A delicate silver locket, engraved with swirling patterns and the image of folded wings, lay nearby, catching the light with a soft gleam. The Spartan paid it no mind as he carefully pushed the drawer closed before turning to Bethany.

Silence hung heavy between them, the unspoken tension a physical presence as he neared the Freelancer; she hadn't uttered a word. Bethany's hands trembled slightly as she averted her gaze, her composure barely holding. It reminded Tysiac of another moment, another time with another woman who had a similar reaction. Having seen a terrible moment that he didn't want to remember the details, but it had affected Allison badly.

He kept his tone low and steady, so the others wouldn't hear them, "I'm sorry."

She let out a shaky breath, "N-no. I... I'll be fine, just... Need a moment."

He remained still, ensuring she stayed hidden from the others. He knew Bethany would never want her friends or even Church to see her current state. His gaze met hers, and the vulnerability in her eyes--a startling, unsettling fragility--made him catch his breath. "Just..." she breathed, her hand reaching for Tysiac's waist before the invisible wall of energy stopped her.

Tysiac didn't need to hear anything more to know. With a swift keystroke, he deactivated the energy shields, the system fading as he pulled Bethany into a close embrace. His arms encircled her shoulders and back, offering comfort, privacy, and security. The sheer rarity of seeing that vulnerability was impacting him hard as Bethany laid her head sideways on the armored chest plate, her eyes shut closed as she breathed slightly harder. Her claws grasped what she could at the thick plating of his armor, as if to anchor herself to the only constant she could find. This felt worse than seeing Allison's own moments of distress or anger. Of all the memories he had with her, to hear that same voice through Bethany's distress was wracking hard against his composure and discipline as he let his chin gently rest at the top of her head.

The two held themselves there as long as Bethany needed. The silence felt heavy, but then, after what felt like minutes, Tysiac distinctly heard Bethany's quiet, regular breathing, a sign of relief. With one final, shuddering breath, Bethany gently released Tysiac, the tremor in the chupadore woman's body subsiding as she pushed away.

Tysiac released his grip, following suit. Bethany rubbed an arm over her eyes as she gave him an expression of both gratitude and urgency. Once she had gotten the tears out of her eyes, she gave a soft glare, "Tell. No one." She said firmly. Her voice returning to its former strength and confidence.

He gave a silent nod. This was a private moment between them.

The sudden loud crashing made Bethany give a start and Tysiac to turn around, bringing his MA5D from his back to bear as he trained it instantly on what was responsible for the noise.

Tysiac brought the gun down as he saw the source and reasoning. A full cabinet, tumbling with a tremendous crash, sent Tucker and Church reeling while Caboose remained sprawled on the dusty ground, amidst the scattered contents. The fallen cabinets showed a partially buried stuffed wolf toy. The toy Tysiac had earlier taken from Caboose was found on its side, badly damaged and its string snapped while the broken remains of a handbell were scattered on the floor.

Bethany quickly tried to smooth her fur out from the surprise as Tysiac gave an appropriate curse for the Blues fucking about. Wash marched over to the three, scolding them, "Blue Team, quit dawdling around or we're leaving you!"

"Tucker did it." Caboose accused as he got back up on all fours.

The turquoise chupadore's response was snappy, "Tucker did your mom, you lying l-"

"Enough." Tysiac's voice broke through and cut Tucker short and delivering an effective end to the squabble, "No one cares. Let's move."

Tysiac could hear Bethany give an exasperated sigh as the door opened and she moved on. The Spartan remained behind to watch the Blues shuffle forwards. Though he didn't miss York passing by Church and giving him a sharp, bitter gaze before moving on.

Church could only stand and stare at York as he muttered, "The fuck's his deal?"

"Don't mind him." Wash spoke quietly as he came by, "York... Lost someone very close to him in the Werewolf program. She was in Alpha Pack, same as you."

Church blinked, having the weight of his words settling, though he gave a frown and his eyebrows furrowed, "So what, that's all on me, then? It's my fault?"

Wash shook his head as he walked on, "No. I'm sure he doesn't blame you. And he knows you don't remember... Just... On his side of all this, I doubt he feels it's fair that someone like you got to be the only sole survivor, and someone like her didn't get to."

The white-furred chupadore stared at Wash before giving a look back towards the mess they had to leave behind before leaving. Tysiac followed up the rear as his gaze drifted to the same mess. Seeing the broken bell and two damaged toys seemed to show something to the Spartan. However, he couldn't piece together what it was.

But what he pieced together matched what he had summed up after Project Werewolf was explained to him. A disastrous mess that would never have flown with ONI, even on their worst of experiments. And what the Director here had done was take the worst of ONI's methods, twisted them further, and only produced a failing series of results that wasted resources and had no long-lasting, staying power to make more of them.

And he was offering the Movement and their rebel werewolves a chance of salvation by ONI of all places.

Such twisted luck...

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