GRAKKEN PRISON
—Day 1 Evening, Exterior—
While Kazaaak had been aiming for specifics, his weapon was anything but a precision weapon. The blamite crystals honed in on the center mass of the brute, ignoring the intended points the mantis had been firing for. The burst of needles clustered against the major’s chest as he was getting back to his feet.
An unintended supercombine put him down for good, the angle splitting open the jiralhanae’s chest cavity and throwing him violently into the ground, skidding him back a few feet into a finalized heap.
And that was that. The Banished phantom hummed as it circled the area for a moment before hovering off into the distance, offering a moment of silence. Copen and David emerged from the woods as Kazaaak and JULIAN followed Keyes and the marines to the Guardian’s side.
“Good to see you made it out,” Copen said to Keyes before looking at Dumbface, who was dazed and twitching still. “How is he?”
“Comin’ out of it,” Jacob replied, and as if on cue, the armored boy bounded back into consciousness.
“I’m back! Little Princess?”
Captain Keyes wasn’t very little, nor a princess. Instead of her, it was him that Guardian’s gaze refocused on, and disappointment settled onto his face. “Aw, man, so that wasn't a dream? What happened while I was out?”
Jacob could hardly fault the boy’s disappointment. This situation was probably closer to a nightmare than anything desirable for his new allies. JULIAN remained uncharactristic as he stood idly nearby, awaiting a command that simply wasn’t coming, not for him specifically anyway.
“You gave us a good opening. We won, for now,” Keyes answered, giving the boy as encouraging a pat on the shoulder as he could before turning away. “We need to make some distance with this place, before more Banished arrive.”
Nobody had any disagreements with that, and so together the group set out into the forest. The sky was steadily beginning to change shades as the evening grew late and night approached, the overhead star resembling the sun slowly dimming, shade by shade.
Tiberium Woods covered most of Rubikis Island, consisting of tall and thin Alder trees that stretched from one end to the other. The canopies were too thin and sparse to keep sunlight from reaching the ground. Much of the earth was covered in fern moss, broken apart by the cliffs and ledges of a rocky surface. In the clearings where trees didn’t grow, shamrock and catmint could be found in abundance, and gentle streams wound their way throughout the island. Save for the Banished, it was a rather peaceful and beautiful island.
As they moved deeper into Tiberium Woods, they could see pockets of wildlife appear here or there. Red deer watching them from a distance and frolicking into the distance when they came close. Pygmy shrews scurrying into the ground and moss to avoid them. Hares searching for food as red foxes hunted them. Chiffchaffs and magpies tweeted from the tree branches before returning to their nests as the sky darkened, and the sounds of ravens cawing echoed through the forest.
As night descended, the group found a crevice between two small cliffs to take a breather and set up a temporary camp. The nook they’d found allowed them to set up a fire that the Banished would have a harder time finding, providing some warmth to those who needed it. The night had come with a chill. As a perimeter was set up and sleeping shifts were agreed upon, the group settled in for some much-needed time to recover and regain their bearings. The sounds of distant machinery sometimes broke the serene peace of the forest, making many barn owls go silent for a while before their hoots cautiously returned. A nearby pond gave off the loud croaking of frogs. So long as the wildlife continued their song, our heroes knew there was no danger nearby. A natural warning system.
At one point, David and the third marine (his name revealed to be Piotr Kaminski) gathered water from a running stream, and at another point, JULIAN (not yet acting himself) went on a perimeter sweep with Private Bisenti. Sleep was hard to come by for most, and before the pair had yet returned, Gina Lorens decided now was a good time to tell the others some crucial things, taking advantage of their respite to recap the situation she’d been faced with before her capture.
“ This world, as most of you have likely realized, is not one that belongs to any of us. I can only tell you bits and pieces of rumors, so I’ll start with what I know is fact. The United Nations Space Command, the military organization I come from, same as the captain and my fellow marines, was at risk of annihilation. We had tracked down our enemy to a ringworld called Zeta Halo, a construct built by an ancient race called the Forerunner. When we got there, however... the Banished attacked. We shared a common enemy, but they had no interest in uniting our forces against it. Within a matter of minutes, humanity’s most powerful naval vessel was decimated. Our last bastion of heroes, including the Master Chief, were killed. What was left of us scattered across the ring to try and survive. We fought a war of attrition, but we were losing.
One day, our hole was dug out by a Banished detachment, but before they could finish us off, some kind of portal appeared. I was among those pulled through it and into... this place. Corporal Freid was among those with me. I don’t know why or how this happened. The Banished had already established themselves here, and they call it the ‘Nexus World.’ It’s inhabited by other factions like them, but the land the Banished control is called ‘Augur.’ The UNSC has been trying to fight back for some time now. The first time, I wasn’t here for, but I heard about how the UNSC’s top brass had appeared here and organized a militia, led by Lord Hood. The Banished ruthlessly wiped them out. From the remnants, a man named Chris Redfield brought us together. I was part of that movement, but it’s over now. Redfield was killed, and those of us that weren’t slaughtered, eaten, or defected were imprisoned for reasons I don’t care to imagine. I’ve even heard of the Banished destroying another faction that used to exist here.
And now, here we are. If the Banished start taking us for a serious threat, I don’t know how much longer we’ll survive. They could send kill squads our way, or destroy this entire island from orbit. We need to get somewhere far away, a place where we can start to rebuild the UNSC one more time.
Third time’s the charm, isn’t it? ”
Moving for a moment away from the outskirts of Banished presence, deep within their territory, a meeting of minds and brawn is underway. Not to discuss the recent prison break. Such an event isn’t worth most of their time, and those bearing an awareness of it won’t find it to be an alarming development.
In the heart of the Crest of Cepheus, this auditorium can be found. A spacious cathedral reminiscent of the grandeur of Covenant architecture that preceded the Banished. In truth, this place really did belong to the Covenant and was merely repurposed with some basic cosmetic changes. It was the council chambers of High Charity, the Covenant’s most holy and sacred of sites. The platform toward the back of the chamber held a large circular table. There were no seats to find comfort in, the meeting leaders standing around it instead. This platform used to descend into the prophet’s private quarters, but due to the unique circumstances of High Charity’s inclusion in the Nexus World, the moon-sized city was scattered across Augur. The platform had nowhere to descend.
A wide path led up to the round table, and on either side of the room were elevated balconies, where the council used to convene. The prophets themselves would have usually been found on the platform. San’shyuum councilors took up the seats on the left side of the room and sangheili councilors took up the seats on the right. Had the Great Schism not taken place, and the Flood not converted the original High Charity, the jiralhanae would have replaced the sangheili’s spot.
At either end of the automatic doors that allowed entry and exit into the auditorium stood a pair of massive creatures. A mgalekgolo variant, the lekgolo worms wound tightly together to form a monstrous entity clad in heavy black armor, fuel rod canisters stretching out of its spiked back. This was a relatively new form of hunter, and as it was currently known, these two were the only of their new kind, called simply ‘Behemoths.’ An accurate name, as they easily towered thirty feet in the air, taking up almost all of the spacious area on either side of the door, the monsters standing on four limbs, carrying themselves not unlike a gorilla would stand.
This meeting wasn’t one of urgency. Every month, leadership in the Banished would convene to discuss internal matters, disputes, developments, and political matters regarding surrounding factions, allied or otherwise. The more casual nature of these meetings meant not every leader attended each one. Some would be absent for one month’s gathering, others would be absent for the next.
This month had gathered only a few leaders together, though most of them were extremely important in Banished leadership. Gathered around the table were an assortment of characters from different walks of life, species, and ideologies. There were no reserved positions, all members in attendance simply finding open space around the circular surface.
The two jiralhanae brothers, known for their conflicting personalities and goals yet their efficient synergy, stood shoulder to shoulder at one end of the table. Pavium, the elder, and Voridus, the younger. Pavium was a level-headed brute who took after Atriox’s example of cold calculation, whereas his younger brother Voridus was hot-headed and easy to provoke. Both were geniuses in their own regard, Pavium with a focus on engineering and tactics, while Voridus had invented infusion gel to better aid his blitzkrieg style of warfare.
Near them stood an aging brute named Decimus. While he and the others knew of the events that happened with the Nexus prior, in which an alternate version of Decimus had vied for control of its power, the current Decimus had faced a brief period of uncertainty regarding his future. When the faction coalition had first formed, they had an ally in a ‘Dr. Robotnik.’ To placate Eggman, Decimus had been removed from power due to the conflict his alternate self had had with the doctor. That was over now, as Eggman was no longer in the picture. Decimus’ demotion had been a public display anyway, and he had served Atriox in the dark for that time. Brought back into the light, the proud yet ignoble brute looked down his nose at those around him. Not in disgust, but with an air of experienced superiority.
Also in attendance were two sangheili of significant age themselves. The first was Jega ‘Rdomnai, once a member of the Silent Shadow, the Covenant’s most successful and prestigious strike force before their collapse. Jega had been among the shadow members who had defected to Atriox after a failed assassination attempt against him. His reason and charisma had swayed them. Jega was unorthodox for a sangheili. He wore mechanized prosthetics in place of missing parts and limbs, which was extremely taboo in sangheili culture. The elite had no qualms with merging his physical self with machine.
The other elite, Bri ‘Filkom, was even older. He too had been a member of the Silent Shadow, similarly defecting to the Banished, though he was more reserved and traditional for a sangheili. While Jega thrived in hunting and killing his prey, no matter what it was, Bri was a distinguished individual who preferred to solve fights with common sense and words, though he was just as deadly a threat as ever. He was the type to extend one hand in friendship while arming the other.
The most unusual face among the Banished leaders, at least for those who hailed from the same multiverse of commonality, was a human. A spartan, to be more specific. Ilsa Zane had been subject to severe voluntary experimentation, a member of the SPARTAN-IV program. Her unit underwent extensive biological augmentation and mineral grafting, moreso than even the SPARTAN-II’s. Supposedly, she was meant to be among the strongest, the fastest, the smartest, and the most unstable breed of Spartan yet seen. Swayed by the Banished cause and lifestyle, Ilsa earned the respect and even admiration of many jiralhanae, enough that she dined with them and hunted with them, treating one another as equals. In the Nexus World, however, she remained largely unproven. Stories followed her, but feats were yet to be shown, leading many to doubt her skill and commitment. Regardless, she remains an influential figure despite controversy.
“I grow tired of waiting,” Voridus was the first to speak to the gathered individuals. He set his hands down on the table with a loud thud, interrupting any ongoing private conversations. “If this is all who are attending, then let us get this meeting out of the way. There are greater things I would rather be doing.”
The young brute glanced at his brother when he said this. Pavium was the only reason he attended these meetings, merely because the older brute convinced him to uphold some semblance of responsibility.
“My patience has yet to wane, but I sympathize,” Bri ‘Filkom spoke next, adjusting the epitoge over his shoulder. “There are many issues to discuss. I am eager to elicit all that entails...”
“Rubikis made his rejection of this meeting abundantly clear,” Voridus claimed. “We won’t be seeing him. But on the subject, he has grown far too bold as of late. I have caught his men snooping in my province more than once. I want to seek approval to humble him.”
“Once the others arrive,” Bri raised a hand waist-level to signify patience.
“Grah!” Voridus threw an arm up in frustration. “They’re taking their time and wasting mine!”
Ilsa Zane watched passively, adding nothing to the conversation. Beside her, Jega ‘Rdomnai was much the same. While the spartan’s expression was impossible to read, the sangheili seemed mildly humored by Voridus’ exasperation.
