Chapter 1: Deception
Walter A. Law sat quietly in his office, chewing a piece of steak. In the wings sat Heracles, Spartan 119, leaning against the wall in his Second Generation MJOLNIR armor, the Soldier class variant. His arms were folded and upon his face was an ever present scowl.
"You are aware why I've called you to my office, correct, Heracles?" Walter asked before popping another piece of steak in his mouth. Heracles nodded."Not much can be hidden from you, yes?" Heracles shrugged. "No, not much."
Walter let out a chuckle. Narrowing his eyes, Heracles analyzed his tone of voice; Walter was often unreadable, but now he could detect a tinge of... mocking. His statements had been fairly accurate: Heracles had always been sharp, quick to analyze. Only one person had been able to truly keep something from him. But now he sensed that War himself was keeping something from him.
"Ah, but I see," Walter--War--turned at this point and looked directly at him, "that you do not know what it is that I allude to in my monologue."
He held up a finger, took a bite of his food.
"Have I not always been straightforward with you Heracles? You have been one of my closest advisers, one of my greatest threats against our foes. I watched closest over you than I did any other Spartan in your training. You had something the others didn't, something I needed."
It was at this point that Heracles decided to speak.
"So you took me out of the program," he stated. "Trained me yourself."
"Precisely. Of course, you didn't learn my fighting style--its can't be taught--but you did become what I willed you into." War paused, his eyes became contemplative. "Silent, deadly, intelligent, you are an instrument to bring death to the enemies of the Legion, to the enemies of humanity."
What does this have to do with my analytic mind? Heracles thought. He remained silent.
"But I perceive your mind wanders back to the beginning of our conversation," he said. War always had a way of reading minds. "The reason I have spoken thus is because I have a mission for you such skills."
Heracles' expression hardened. "Go on."
"Recently one of our Spartan IV training facilities on Mars has gone silent. Rather than attract attention, I've decided to send you to investigate. I've already sent a team under Spartan 324 to investigate; however, due to recent... circumstances I've decided that it would be profitable to dispatch you to Mars."
Heracles nodded and pushed himself away from the wall. The prospect of working with Manuel, a man who he had been trained alongside with for a number of years in the Legion's Spartan program, was an exciting one.
"When do I leave?" Heracles asked.
"Tonight."
"All the better..."
Heracles turned towards the door.
"Before you go, Heracles, there is a bit of information you may need to know."
He faced War.
"Sir?"
Walter stood and straightened his suit. He ran a hand over his slicked back hair.
"Manuel doesn't know you're alive," he said. "When I removed you from the program, your were announced as KIA."
Heracles furrowed his brow.
"That may complicate things..." he said. "But, I'll work through it."
Walter flashed him a pleasant smile, one that Heracles knew meant for him to leave. He opened the elaborately decorated door and made for the hanger. His thoughts remained on the task ahead: how would Manuel react to seeing him for the first time in years? It would be interesting, that was for sure. Regardless, he'd get the job done.
A short time later he was in a Pelican en route to the Testudo which would be his ride to Mars.
What awaits me? he pondered as he boarded the ship. He was hurried into a cryo tube and everything turned into a dream.
Walter A. Law sat quietly in his office, chewing a piece of steak. In the wings sat Heracles, Spartan 119, leaning against the wall in his Second Generation MJOLNIR armor, the Soldier class variant. His arms were folded and upon his face was an ever present scowl.
"You are aware why I've called you to my office, correct, Heracles?" Walter asked before popping another piece of steak in his mouth. Heracles nodded."Not much can be hidden from you, yes?" Heracles shrugged. "No, not much."
Walter let out a chuckle. Narrowing his eyes, Heracles analyzed his tone of voice; Walter was often unreadable, but now he could detect a tinge of... mocking. His statements had been fairly accurate: Heracles had always been sharp, quick to analyze. Only one person had been able to truly keep something from him. But now he sensed that War himself was keeping something from him.
"Ah, but I see," Walter--War--turned at this point and looked directly at him, "that you do not know what it is that I allude to in my monologue."
He held up a finger, took a bite of his food.
"Have I not always been straightforward with you Heracles? You have been one of my closest advisers, one of my greatest threats against our foes. I watched closest over you than I did any other Spartan in your training. You had something the others didn't, something I needed."
It was at this point that Heracles decided to speak.
"So you took me out of the program," he stated. "Trained me yourself."
"Precisely. Of course, you didn't learn my fighting style--its can't be taught--but you did become what I willed you into." War paused, his eyes became contemplative. "Silent, deadly, intelligent, you are an instrument to bring death to the enemies of the Legion, to the enemies of humanity."
What does this have to do with my analytic mind? Heracles thought. He remained silent.
"But I perceive your mind wanders back to the beginning of our conversation," he said. War always had a way of reading minds. "The reason I have spoken thus is because I have a mission for you such skills."
Heracles' expression hardened. "Go on."
"Recently one of our Spartan IV training facilities on Mars has gone silent. Rather than attract attention, I've decided to send you to investigate. I've already sent a team under Spartan 324 to investigate; however, due to recent... circumstances I've decided that it would be profitable to dispatch you to Mars."
Heracles nodded and pushed himself away from the wall. The prospect of working with Manuel, a man who he had been trained alongside with for a number of years in the Legion's Spartan program, was an exciting one.
"When do I leave?" Heracles asked.
"Tonight."
"All the better..."
Heracles turned towards the door.
"Before you go, Heracles, there is a bit of information you may need to know."
He faced War.
"Sir?"
Walter stood and straightened his suit. He ran a hand over his slicked back hair.
"Manuel doesn't know you're alive," he said. "When I removed you from the program, your were announced as KIA."
Heracles furrowed his brow.
"That may complicate things..." he said. "But, I'll work through it."
Walter flashed him a pleasant smile, one that Heracles knew meant for him to leave. He opened the elaborately decorated door and made for the hanger. His thoughts remained on the task ahead: how would Manuel react to seeing him for the first time in years? It would be interesting, that was for sure. Regardless, he'd get the job done.
A short time later he was in a Pelican en route to the Testudo which would be his ride to Mars.
What awaits me? he pondered as he boarded the ship. He was hurried into a cryo tube and everything turned into a dream.
