Welcome to Gaia! ::

A city once dead in the universe began to move once again. It had taken seven years to rebuild the city, and to revive the population. The sky was no longer dotted with Covenant cruisers of all shapes and sizes. Only the clouds floated along now. The bright sun cast a glow over the smiling faces of the children playing in the playground at their Elementary School. With a new day came a new hope, and the city of Illisium, New Harmony was a testament to that. It thrived with life, with citizens of all ages and gender. It was the land of the free; many people took advantage of this and went about their business with a once forgotten sense of calm.

Yet Illisium was a gilded city, run not by the corporate business' or the government, but by the underground market and its merchants. They traded goods, or at least the honest merchants did. If someone got their hands on a weapon it was from Illisium's black market. In fact, weapons had become one large percentile of the exports for the underground market. Crime had begun to rise, and word was spreading about a resistance movement against the UNSC. ONI had to pay quite a few credits to obtain even that little bit of information. It was interesting how information was considered more of an item than previously, one that could be bought and sold to the highest bidder.

Skyscrapers toward over the streets below and with access to forerunner technology each building had begun to evolve. The infrastructure of the buildings had changed, become much for durable and impervious to kinetic forces under a megaton. Each building stood reflecting the ocean and the pearl white surface of the city. Almost everything glowed bright in the sun, with the exception of the city streets, which were a stark gray in contrast to the snow white of the trees. With the reconstruction came the sterile white of the city; it appeared to be easier to monitor than if the buildings were multi-colored. However, orange billboards, blue walkways, and red cranes sat atop and below the city. Below ground, it was very much the same: Almost everything was a bright fluorescent blue, minus some of the green pipes.

The bright sun beamed down upon the tall buildings and the residents of Illisium, casting its warm rays upon each and every person. A fresh breeze moved through the streets, weaving in and out of the crowds as they walked to and from their jobs. Several of the adults walked around looking down at their portable devices, while teenagers bobbed their heads to their MP7s. It was amazing that four hundred million citizens lived in Illisium, and at almost all times of the day they lined the streets. The entire city was enormous, covering a good quarter of the planet of New Harmony. The council that looked over the city was located at the heart of it all, in the Political Sector. The largest building on the planet, three hundred stories tall, one kilometer deep, wide, and long. It towered over Illisium like a watchful eye, a Mirror reflecting the joy of the citizens.

In the big city of two armored figures walked through the crowd boasting the newest assault rifle developed by the UNSC, the MA7B-T1 PA Assault Rifle. It wasn't too bulky, and its accuracy was very pleasing; it could be used like a sniper rifle or a shotgun. It held sixty rounds per clip of ammunition, and it could be switched from semi- to automatic. However, the rifles were only issued to the two men for one reason: Defense and Recon. The weapons glinted slightly in the fading light as the two heavily armored men strolled down the street. They were about the same height, and the recently modified MJOLNIR Mark VII Type R armor drew all eyes toward the soldiers.

Within the helmets of the armor both soldiers smiled at the awe of the citizens; one girl even managed to drop her bag in amazement. The citizens knew of the Spartans, having been required to learn about them in school. Each person knew the sacrifice the Master Chief had been required to make, and now that these two men walked through their city streets a soft hush had begun to fall over the city while a whisper found its way through the underground. One merchant had his shop open, and had just finished meeting with a client of his. This man was one of the information merchants Hammer and Byrne had been informed about, their contact in Illisium: Gerald A. Prescott.

As both Byrne and Hammer approached the man, the merchant's eyes locked onto their reflective visors and a small smile came to his face. "Prescott?" Hammer inquired, "we're with-." The man raised his palm and shook his head, "I know who ye are; I've been expecting yuh." The Commander looked at the Sergeant, who looked back at him. Even from behind their visors they were able to make out the universal facial expression of bewilderment. Prescott looked from one visor to the next. "What, you ne'er heard o'text messages, huh?" he asked in a very sarcastic manner before turning around and reaching down under the counter. Turning back around he held out a data crystal, much like the one inserted into the back of the Commander's helmet. "Go on" he said, "Take it."

Michael looked down at the crystal and reached out, taking it in the palm of his hand. He quickly turned away, placed it in the second slot of the helmet, and both Byrne and him started walking away. Prescott narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth, raising a fist into the air. "Hey! Where d'ya think yer goin'? Yuh need to pay fer that there crystal!" Byrne turned his head slightly and spoke loud enough for the man to hear, minus the external speakers. "You'll get your money." As the man continued to shout after them, both of the Spartans walked away in the direction they had come. Not too far away, about half a click north and around the corner sat their Warthog, fitted for civilian use. Byrne didn't look at Hammer; he didn't need to in order to address him in TEAMCOM, "he won't be receiving pay, will he?" The Commander's shoulders moved visibly as a small chuckle came through the channel. "No" he said, "probably not, especially if Section Three is running this show."

As the two of them approached the Warthog a transmission proceeded to filter through their inner speakers, "Commander Hammer, Sergeant Byrne; this is Lord Hood speaking." The sight of the two Spartans in the big city was a strange enough sight without the two of them jumping straight into attention. A small chuckle came over COM network, "at ease gentlemen." Hammer nodded his head to Byrne and hopped into the side seat while the Sergeant jumped into the driver's seat, and prepped the Warthog for transport. "I've got an important mission for you two." The Warthog took off into the street, swerving between cars and through traffic. "You two are to get back to Illisium HQ and prep. For deep space travel; our Elite friends can use some help from Humanity." As the Warthog hit the highway both of the men sat comfortably, or at least as comfortable as they could with their bulky armor and the rather small seats. "I'm having the data transferred to Angel as we speak; God speed, Gentlemen."



The UNSC Headquarters staged in Illisium was only rivaled by the size of the Headquarters on Earth; all kinds of activity went on inside. Several technicians ran diagnostics on Pelicans, Longswords, and all other vehicles while Marines checked cargo, ran customs, and did inventory checks on both weapons and goods. Like the city the facility was stark white, and took on a shade of light gray when in the shade. There were barracks, mess halls, latrines, COM centers, and the main HQ building all on one hundred acres of land; it was truly a military accomplishment.

Michael and Byrne loaded up on weapons, not knowing what exactly their mission was. Angel had been really stingy about keeping the mission classified until they were up in the air. Each of the men held a MA7B-T1 Pulse Action Assault Rifle in their hands, a W/AV M6 Grindell/Galileian Nonlinear Rifle on each their backs, a M6D-HE Pistol on one hip and a C7 Caseless SMG on the other. The pouches along their person were filled with several hundred pounds of ammo, including three battery units for the Laser. The men were ready for a war. They proceeded to walk towards their Longsword-class Interceptor, which was specially fitted for their slipspace travel to Sanghelios.

On their way to the ship they passed by a group of five or so Marines, one of which was a Sergeant. The slightly overweight Sergeant was leaning back against a rather large ammo crate with a lit cigar held tightly in the corner of his mouth by his teeth. The man reached for the cigar and held it away from his mouth, and smiled a sadistic smile, looking from man to man, all of the Marines looking at him. He cleared his throat and all of the soldiers stopped talking, "alright boys, I got a good one!" The soldier sitting closest to the Sergeant turned with an excited expression and spoke with the tone of a kiss-a**. "Oh, tell us Sarge!" The soldier sitting to that Marine's right shook his head and looked at the man. "Shut up, Simmons" he said in a cautious tone of voice. The Marine sitting across from the soldier named "Simmons" piped up, "oh! Tell me a joke about monkeys." Both Simmons and the Corporal to Simmon's right looked at the Marine, "... What?!" The Sergeant took a hit from his cigar and chuckled to himself. "A priest, a rabbi, and Grif all walk into a bar..." he said sitting there, pausing for dramatic effect before bursting out, "And I kill 'em!" The Marine whom had made a comment about monkeys sat there dumbfounded while Simmons began to nearly cry from laughter. However, the Marine to Simmon's right held a straight face, "Why does it always include me dieing somehow?!"

Both Byrne and the Commander stepped to the Pelican, and up inside. They stowed their weapons in the appropriate compartments before stepping to the pilot's and co-pilot's seats. Hammer took his seat in the pilot's seat and began the ignition sequence, Byrne double checking all the systems. Michael reached back behind his head and retrieved the data crystal that contained Angel and plugged her into the ship, "You know where we're going. Get us there." Byrne looked to the holotank in between their two chairs and Angel appeared there, her hair a longer, down a few "inches" above her knees, but still neat and beautiful. "Yes sir!" she said before turning to face the glass cockpit windshield. The Longsword-class Interceptor lifted off the hangar floor and soared out into the sky, and up into space. They were on a classified mission, but little did they know they would be needed back on New Harmony soon, and a new war was just about to break out.

"You just going to stand there and look at it man?" Zeke asked Darian as he walked up behind him. He looked down at the armor and found himself admiring it. He also wanted to where the armor because of how it looked. He wasn't the type to get excited over armors but the ODST armor always made him stare. He was a guy who was more interested in rifles and shooting. That was probably the only reason he became a Marksman. He loved it when he heard the sweet sound of a bullet being shot out of a rifle, especially high-powered rifles that could easily take limb off. He came back to reality and nudged Darian.

"There's better thing to do than stare at an armor." He said as he took a couple of steps back and began to wonder what he could do. What could they do? Zeke had no idea. He let out a long sigh and shook his head. "Yeah... Better things to do."

"Nah, it's a common thing for all soldiers." Zeke said with a smile. He let out a sigh as he stood there. He never was used to being called Sergeant or any of those titles. He hated been all up tight and uniform but he would follow the rules. He thought about Darian's offer and gave a little nod even though he had no idea where they would go.

"Sounds good to me. Oh and when we're not at something formal or in battle call me Zeke." He said as he put out his hand for Darian to shake it. "It's nice to meet you Darian."

Click. Clank. The sound of the young sergeants combat boots
trudging back and forth across the hard, concrete ground were enough to
almost drive someone to the brink of insanity. Sergeant Devin Myers
paced in a repeated motion, her arms folded behind her back in
a formal pose. She seemed to be deep in thought at the moment
and any kind of disturbance looked like it might trigger a gun in
the long corridors that created her mind. Her brown hair hung down her face and her brown eyes only contributed
to the defensive aura she threw up around her.

Devin's assault rifle was located about three meters from her at rest
against a forest green crate. Her hunting knife was close at hand resting
inside a sheath on her black, studded belt. A long, heavy sigh escaped
her lips as she stopped just before turning and continuing her pacing.
She looked around for a moment as though she had heard something
and was trying to locate where it had come from, and for a couple of moments she just stood there. The moment didn't seem to end and
when it finally did she felt like twenty years had passed. She walked
a little bit from the space she had been occupying and rested her back against the wall, allowing her body to, inch by inch, slide down along it
until she came to a rest on the ground.

Devin had barely noticed the man walk up and when she
finally did she lifted her eyes up to see whom it was. Just another
soldier. She discarded this and let her head fall back into her knees
in a drowsy state; her eyes beginning to close, not because she hadn't
slept, but because her thoughts made her weary and her temple heavy
on her neck.

In her mind, Myers could clearly envision the horror of the Human-Covenant
war seven years earlier; how it had started and how it had ended. The spartan, known as the Master Chief, had saved them all. The elites, humanity, everyone. He was an epic figure of the war and still
remained a monument to courage here...on earth. Earth was so peaceful
now, well, mostly. Kids were able to go to school safely without having to worry about the city being glassed by some alien force. You could breath easy without having to watch your back every time you turned a corner.
Well, atleast most people could. In Devin's case, she always watched her back. She was far too paranoid not too and battle ready attitude made it worse. But her main concern was what would become of humanity now?
Would everyone just reach that "happily ever after" goal that has been so long delayed, or would they plunge themselves into chaos like humanity usually has succeeded in doing.

She needed to stop thinking or soon she wouldn't only be blasting the heads off of targets in the shooting range.

James was sitting on a smaller crate, about the size of a chair within the hanger O'Connol had just entered. He was taking a moment to light a sweet williams cigar, though after a few attempted lights it was clear the lighter was drained. He let out a sigh of dissapointment and stuff up, putting the cigar into one of the many pockets he had in his pants, along with the lighter and took a short gaze around. "Quiet." He mumbled to himself, obviously not refering to the noise, but the overall action of things. He honestly didn't mind it being as such, he merely picked up his fathers habit of stating the obvious to ones self verbaly.

((Meh, prolly not the best of starts, but a start none the less. sweatdrop ))

O'Connol looked forward at the two men in the Warthog that had been fitted for civilian use. There were a good number of these Warthog transports littered around the military base, and Andrew had made sure to memorize these spots just in case. He stepped forward and approached the driver's side of the Warthog, placing his left hand on the vehicles hull before facing the driver, "I can drive." Once again the Private was a man of very few words, but his outward appearance was more daunting than not. In all times the ODST armor conveyed a sense of authority, though Andrew's voice was not laced with command and remained relatively neutral.

Devin brought her head up from folded arms and looked around.
If not for the blabbering marines about to take off in a warthog some ways
from her, it would have been perfectly quiet. But this wasn't any time for
her to be dozing off. Not while she was suppost to be on civilian
patrol, the things she usually did nowadays since the war ended. She
brought herself to her feet in a slow and tiresome manner, gathered
her vest and assault rifle then headed over towards the warthog
that was being occupied.

Devin's right hand rose up and rested itself against the back of the vehicle
just before the group of three drove off. She looked up at the marines,
one of whom was an ODST, and moved a few strands of her hair out of
her face.

"You got room for one more?"