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"They found me; gave me a way out. I owe them my life, and will fight on to preserve humanity's freedom. My name is Arnold Rayner, and I am an Assassin."
―Arnold-072, The Spartan Assassin.

Spartan's Creed is the first of two Fan-Fictions providing the taste of a theoretical collaboration between 343i and Ubisoft, and follows the story of Arnold Rayner, a rogue Spartan-II and an Assassin from the Twenty-Sixth Century.

Arnold was born on March 13, 2511, and was conscripted into the SPARTAN-II program on 2517, when he was taken to Reach to begin his training. He was widely known amongst the other Spartans as being the stealthiest of the lot. He underwent the standard SPARTAN-II augmentation procedures and obtained MJOLNIR Mk IV armor in the year 2525. Our journey through his life begins during a mission on Earth to recover an ancient artifact of untold power...

Chapter One - The Artifact[]


Arnold-072: "Command, this is Sierra-072, ready to drop."
UNSC: "Affirmative Sierra-072, you are cleared to drop."
Arnold-072: "Roger that. Wait, what is tha - >STATIC<"
—Arnold's last contact with the United Nations Space Command.

The Spartan lay on the ground, with dust and debris from the UNSC Glimmer of Hope surrounding him. As he came to, he noticed that his HUD had gone haywire, possibly damaged by the attack. Arnold removed and discarded his tan-green helmet to reveal a sharp face with short, dark brown hair, grey eyes, a short goatee with a stubble, and a distinct scar that ran across his upper lip. His vision still blurry, he looked around. He had crash-landed in the New Mojave Desert, quite close to the Vault he was supposed to locate and search. As the ringing in his ears subsided, he tried to remember what had happened.

Arnold had been one of the many Spartans tasked with locating and acquiring ancient artifacts from classified locations of interest across multiple planets. From what he had heard, all of the other missions had failed, and some of the others were reported MIA. I guess I'm MIA now too. He was about to drop down when the ship had been attacked by an unknown assailant. As he was inside the Drop Pod, he could not discern what had happened, except that it resulted in the Glimmer of Hope crash-landing. The Drop Pod had saved him, though it was destroyed in the process, and also damaged his armor and communications systems.

Arnold tried to get up on his feet. The MJOLNIR Mark IV systems were inactive, but the armor retained its incredible weight. Thankfully, Arnold's augmentations meant he could recover much quicker, and allowed him to stand up with relative ease. At seven feet tall, Arnold was quite noticeable in the desert. This made him uneasy, as he preferred to be discreet, and because the assailants could be nearby. Another consequence of his augmentations was improved visual acuity, which let him discern that his destination was a few minutes' walk away at most. Not wanting to stay out in the open any longer, the Spartan made his way towards the Vault.

The Vault[]

Commander: "If you manage to find it, you are to retrieve that artifact at all costs. Do I make myself clear?"
Arnold: "Affirmative."
―Arnold, receiving his orders.

Upon reaching the Vault, the Spartan surveyed his surroundings. "No one around." The large, metal door had many markings on it, which seemed to be ancient in its design, yet, strangely advanced in its construction. As he approached it, the markings began to glow. A chilling, robotic voice echoed from the door.

"Greetings Reclaimer. I have long awaited an encounter with one of your heritage. I hereby deem you worthy to proceed." The door slid open, revealing a narrow walkway crawling with glowing symbols. Arnold walked in, the symbols lighting a series of downward steps as he did so.

Arnold's brief taste of Eagle Vision.

Arnold's steps echoed as he walked, and upon reaching the bottom of the steps, his head started to ache. He began to experience shimmers of blue and noticed several strange symbols. It was as though an alternate reality was attempting to blend with his own. A searing burst of pain went through him, and for a brief moment, amidst the blue, he caught a brilliant flash of red. He saw a symbol, unlike any other he had ever seen, glowing on the wall in front of him. It etched itself into his mind, and his head throbbed with pain. What the hell is going on?

"It is good you have come. My masters had hoped this day would come soon - a day when your kind would be advanced enough to comprehend their message." The owner of the voice was revealed to be a spherical metallic construct which was concave on three sides, and had a glowing teal "eye" at the front. Its voice was no longer cold, but rather calm and welcoming. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am 5184 Negligent Oath, monitor of this establishment. My masters have instructed me to bequeath this artifact of great power unto the first Reclaimer to walk these halls, as they believed that by then, humanity would be ready."

"Wait, you mean to say no one else has discovered this... place before now? How is that possible? And what exactly is this artifact?" Arnold inquired.

"The establishment possesses advanced camouflage technology and can only be seen by certain humans who possess a unique trait. A rare trait, that was long forgotten. As for the artifact, my masters would often call it The Seventh Apple, or simply Piece of Eden 7." The monitor raised a pedestal from the ground and instructed Arnold to place his hand over it. Reluctantly, Arnold did so, which caused the walls to shift, revealing an inner chamber. On an identical pedestal within the chamber lay the Seventh Apple - a spherical object, seemingly made of gold. It seemed to radiate an attractive force, lulling people towards it like a siren with her song.

Skeptic, Arnold asked "What if I don't want to do this?"

The Seventh Apple

"Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable! Protocol must be observed! The Reclaimer must retrieve the Apple!" Negligent Oath hummed, the color of its "eye" briefly changing from teal to orange. Sensing unfavorable consequences in case he chose not to cooperate, Arnold approached the pedestal and placed his hand on the Apple.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen. The Apple began to glow, sending golden waves of energy throughout the room. A holographic figure materialized; it was the figure of a man with average features, and curly hair. He spoke with a distant voice that echoed throughout the chamber.

"Welcome, human. Before I perished, I was known as Hephaestus, and before that, Hephesto and Vulcanus. There is much to explain and not much time to do so. While the others looked for ways to halt the catastrophe, I knew the inevitable. They tried six solutions in succession; I tried a seventh. This Apple is the key to the future, for I have embedded upon it, the truth. All of it. Always remember, human; Memory is the key." With these cryptic words, the hologram faded.

"Wait, what does any of that mean? What do I have to do?" Arnold asked anxiously, his mind trying to comprehend Hephaestus' message. He noticed the ground was rumbling, and exclaimed, "Why is the ground shaking? Answer me!"

The monitor's "eye" was glowing bright orange. "Protocol must be observed! The establishment must be destroyed! Vault-Destruction sequence initiated. You have 72 seconds."

"Crap! I've got to get out of here!" yelled Arnold as he ran up the steps, heading for the exit. Just as he made it through the metal door, 5184 Negligent Oath hummed its final message.

"Sealing Vault doors. Implosion imminent in 12 seconds. Good luck, Reclaimer." The metal door sealed itself shut, with Negligent Oath behind it. A muffled bang was heard from within. Arnold contemplated the events that had transpired, Apple in hand. He had to get back towards civilization, contact the UNSC and notify them of mission's status. Suddenly, he felt something sharp strike the side of his neck.

Pain. Sharp, slicing pain followed by numbness. Feeling his neck, he found a dart. As his vision faded, Arnold collapsed onto the ground, a shadow being the last thing he saw...


Arnold: "They nearly managed to capture us, but we managed to get away with just one minor injury. Amazing, isn't it?"
John: "Guess luck was on our side."
Arnold: "We make our own luck, John. Always remember that."
—Arnold, speaking with John-117 about luck, after the capture of Robert Watts, circa 2525.

Arnold gasped, regaining consciousness. As he recovered, he took in his surroundings. He was strapped down on a table, inside what appeared to be a lab. The drug's effects still had an impact on him, but he was nevertheless able to use his augmented strength to break free from the binds. Where the hell am I?

The corridor.

The Spartan left the room, and moved stealthily across a dimly lit corridor. He had to locate and recover his armor, as allowing it to fall into enemy hands, whoever they were, would be in complete violation of UNSC protocol. He explored a few of the other labs, and oddly, all of them were deserted. Finally, he found his armor, and helmet too, which had likely been salvaged by his captors from the wreckage of the Glimmer of Hope. Donning his armor and carrying his damaged helmet, Arnold walked out of the room, and looked for a way out. The only path he could find was through the main lobby. Suspecting a trap, Arnold chose to tread lightly.

Surely enough, he had walked into the inevitable ambush that had been laid out for him. The moment he had set foot into the lobby, the lights came on and he found himself surrounded, with the guns of eight soldiers trained on him. An aging man in a lab coat walked in, shaking his head.

"Up to no good are we, Spartan-072? You see, I can't just let you leave. We believe you hold information that could be invaluable to us. Secrets, hidden away in your DNA, the mysteries behind your augmentations, the nature of your armor, and of course, the most curious object you discovered in the desert. But where are my manners? I am Wayne Vidic. Might I ask your name, Spartan?"

"I'd be a lot more comfortable if you didn't have all these rifles pointed at me." Arnold replied.

"Tsk tsk, it seems we aren't operating on the same level of mutual respect I assumed. Do you even know what it is you discovered outside New Vegas?" Vidic said, taking out the Apple. "It is temptation in its purest form. It is control. It is power."

The Apple began to glow. Arnold's head throbbed with pain as the color of his eyes changed to gold. He seemed to sense the intentions of everyone in the room. To him, Vidic began to glow in bright gold while the guards, save for one, glowed in crimson. The final guard, the one behind Vidic, was bright blue.

In a matter of seconds, all hell broke loose. A sharp blade protruded from under the wrist of the guard, who stabbed Vidic through the spine, and tossed a sidearm to Arnold before the guards had noticed what had happened. Arnold dropped his helmet and caught the gun, quickly shooting the two guards behind him, each bullet landing square between the eyes, and ran for cover behind the receptionist's desk. The rogue guard took out another two with his Assault Rifle before ducking for cover behind another desk. The remaining three continued to fire, trying to suppress them. As soon as they had to reload, Arnold and his newfound ally seized the opportunity to eliminate them, and did so with lethal precision.

"We need to get out of here now!" the man exclaimed, "Take any weapons with ammo; they'll have the whole building surrounded in minutes!" Arnold retrieved a fully loaded Battle Rifle from one of the corpses - the safety catch was still on. Amateur. His helmet was going to be a problem, as it wasn't functional, but could not be left behind. He ripped a large piece of cloth off one of the guards and using it, slung his helmet over his back. Unorthodox, but effective. "Follow me, and try to keep up." the man said, picking up the Apple as he spoke, "I'm Michael by the way."

"Arnold. Thanks for the rescue back there; where are we headed?"


Chapter Two - The Order[]


Arnold: "Mommy, what is that?"
Helena: "That's an eagle, dear. They fly through the skies and watch over the people; they're brave and noble creatures."
Arnold: "I wish I could be like an eagle."
—A young Arnold, seeing an eagle for the first time.

The Hideout from outside.

They had finally reached the hideout. Panting, Michael said, "You know, you've got a lot of stamina for a guy in half-ton armor." He was a man of average build and height, in his twenties like Arnold, with dark eyes, a jet-black faux hawk and a stubble. "Anyways, I think we lost them. We're here." It was a small, rectangular white building with a single entrance. Inside, it had all the appearances of a regular house - a bedroom, a kitchen, a living room, etc. Arnold followed Michael to a bookshelf of the living room, next to which, was an ornate carving on the wall, resembling the Greek letter delta. Underneath the carving was what looked like a keyhole. Michael released his concealed blade and used it to unlock what was connected to the lock.

The Shock Blade.

"We call it a Hidden Blade. Did you know there was a time when you had to cut off a finger to use one of these? But the legendary Altaïr used one of these "Apples" to improve its design." Michael explained. As the bookcase slid aside to reveal an entrance to the basement, he continued, "Since then, it's come a long way, with many modifications and variations over the years. Altaïr himself designed one that could inject poison, and a concealed gun to be used with the Blade. The Ottomans came up with the Hookblade, the Chinese came up with one that was hidden in the shoe, amongst countless countless other modifications. My personal favorite is one we affectionately call "The Hidden Taser", though its proper name would be the Shock Blade. But listen to me ramble, we have to take you to our Mentor; you need a debrief."

Arnold walked through the underground corridor, with countless statues of men and women in hoods lining it. Among them, two statues caught his eye. One of them was a man in robes reminiscent of the scholars of the crusade era. The plaque read, "Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, 1165-1257". So that's Altaïr. The other was of a man in similar garb, albeit, more intricate in its design, with a cape over the shoulder. The plaque read,"Ezio Auditore da Firenze, 1459-1524". What struck his curiosity was the fact that both these men possessed scars on their lips, nearly identical to his own.

"We're here." Michael said, opening the door to a large hall. Around ten people were inside, going about their business. Among them, was a woman, dressed in white like everyone else. She looked to be in her thirties, tall and slender, with flame red hair tied in a ponytail, glasses, and emerald green eyes. Michael approached her, leaned down on one knee and said, "Mentor, I've brought the Spartan as you requested."

"Thank you Michael, if you would excuse us, we have a few things to discuss." She spoke in a calm, authoritative voice.

"Of course Mentor, let me know if you need anything else." Michael said, before nodding at Arnold, and leaving to join a few of the others.

"Will do." The Mentor turned to Arnold, "If you would please leave your weapons with Jake," she said, gesturing towards a man with spiky blonde hair, blue eyes and a scar across his left cheek, "and follow me afterwards, I would be quite grateful." Arnold did as instructed, and followed the Mentor into her study.

"Thank you, Archie I believe?" she asked.

"Arnold. Arnold-072, Chief Petty Officer of the Navy." Arnold replied.

"My apologies, Arnold. I am Ariel, Mentor of the American Assassins. On behalf of the other Assassins, I would like to formally apologize for the incident we caused at the New Vegas facility. Michael was an undercover agent there, keeping tabs on Templar activities. When they captured you, and were about to extract crucial information from you, I ordered a rescue op, which went a little messier than planned." she explained.

"No need to apologize, ma'am; you guys saved my life. If I may ask though, who are the Assassins and the Templars?" Arnold inquired.

"Two ancient orders, which, some believe, predate history itself. We mostly operated in secret, though we did have a public presence during the Crusades. Throughout history, the Templars have sought to control and unify humanity, while the Assassins have struggled to preserve humanity's freedom, and safeguard our evolution." Ariel explained, "As of the Twenty-Sixth century, the Templar order has been reduced to a shadow of what it used to be, thanks to the collaborative efforts of many Assassins scattered through many planets, nations and points in history. However, one of their goals has been achieved - all of humanity lies united under a single banner against the Covenant. They seek to use this unification to control us all. We intend to stop them. No matter what the cost."

Arnold pondered over what he had just heard, "This is a lot to take in. The man - Michael, I think, he called you a Mentor. What does that mean?"

"A Mentor is the leader of all the Assassins in a certain area. Nothing happens there without knowledge or permission from the Mentor. Previously, all of humanity was united under a single Mentor, who was killed by one of our own, severely damaging our Order. But we have learned from our mistake, and now, while we have no single leader, the Mentors of the various locations keep in touch, and jointly decide on significant changes." Ariel concluded her explanation. "Now the reason I'm telling you all of this is because, we would like you to join us. When your vessel was shot down by an Insurrectionist ship, you were officially declared MIA from the Navy. Should you wish to join us, we shall retain possession of the Apple you recovered, and utilize it for the good of humanity. If however, you choose not to join us, we shall let you leave, though with a few conditions. Firstly, you are not to speak of our Order, or its actions to anyone, as doing so would compromise our Brotherhood, and would lead to a lot of unwanted questions for you from the UNSC. Second, you are to dispose of the Apple, and never speak of it to anyone, as we believe there may be Templar puppets within the UNSC."

Arnold was baffled. For the first time in his life, he was given a choice. It felt, strange to be able to determine his own fate. He tried to think of all the possible outcomes either decision could have. "I think... I think I'll need some time to think about it." he said.

"Of course, you are welcome to stay with us until you reach your decision." Ariel said with a smile. Perhaps she knew his answer already, even though he didn't.


"I want to give you something, Arnold; it used to belong to your father. He said it brought him luck, and on the off-chance he was right, I want you to have it. But always remember, my son - We make our own luck."
―Helena Rayner, giving her son his father's good-luck charm.

Arnold lay in his bed, contemplating the events that had taken place during the past couple of days. His armor was in a pile next to him, still in its damaged state. He looked at the charm his mother had given him many years ago, before he became a Spartan. It was the shape of a soaring eagle, and he wore it around his neck at all times. It reminded him of his past, and a childhood that was taken from him.

The Spartan finally came to a decision. He would serve those that set him free rather than those who had stolen his life. He felt a sense of debt to the Assassins, who had no discernible reason to save him, but did so nonetheless.

The next day, right after waking up, Arnold went to the main hall, and found Ariel talking to the others. Everyone seemed quite tense. Sensing that something was wrong, he hurried over to the group, and asked Jake what had happened.

"They found us. There are Templar patrols around the building." Jake explained, "I don't think they know for sure, but suspect we're nearby. It seems you guys didn't completely lose them when you came here."

"I'm sorry, I-" Arnold began.

"Don't worry about it." Jake interrupted impatiently, "This isn't the first time, and it sure as hell won't be the last. We just need to take them out before they discover and report our location, so stealth is a must."

"I think I might be able to help. We were trained for this stuff. All I need is a weapon." Arnold said, stretching a bit in readiness. Jake nodded, and handed him a suppressed Battle Rifle, along with a combat knife, extra ammunition, and a wireless headset. Once Ariel had finished briefing the Assassins, she turned to Arnold.

"You have no allegiance to us, so I would completely understand if you opted to stay out of this." she said, remaining calm even at the prospect of a possible attack.

"Negative ma'am. Your people saved me, and for that, I owe you my life." Arnold replied.

Ariel smiled. "Very well, Spartan. Give them hell."

~ ~ ~

Arnold stepped out of the building, and allowed his eyes to adjust to the light of the morning sun. The hideout was on the outskirts of an abandoned city in the New Mojave Desert. The wind was tossing small amounts of sand through the air, and there were no clouds in the sky. "How many are there?" he asked over wireless communications.

"I count three, south side." a female Assassin reported.

"Got another couple up north." Jake said, "Michael reports another pair due east."

"Roger that; I'll take the south." Arnold replied. Readying his rifle, he began heading southwards. He caught up with the Assassin that he had contacted moments earlier, who was taking cover behind a ruined wall, counting the ammunition in her Sniper rifle. The Assassin beckoned Arnold to some cover next to her, and he did as instructed. She brushed aside her long, sandy-brown hair observed him with her azure blue eyes.

The ruins.

"You're the Spartan everyone's been talking about, right? My name is Elizabeth, but everyone just calls me Liz. Pleased to meet you." she said, "Now, we got three hostiles to take care of. I'd suggest we set up a sync shot to eliminate them all before they raise the alarm, but they've got us outnumbered. What do you think we should do?"

"Hang on, I've got a plan, but we need to time it right. Line up your shot and focus on the one leaning against the wall. I'll take out the other two." Arnold ordered, shifting position to get a better angle. "On my mark" he said, readying his shot. Breathing in deeply, he waited for the right moment. "Fire!"

In an instant, the guard leaning against the wall dropped; and within a fraction of a second of that, Arnold fired a burst from his rifle, of which the first two shots hit one of the two guards right in the head, and the last embedded itself in the skull of the other as the first dropped. "That was brilliant!" Liz exclaimed, a wide smile on her small, round face. "I just got word from the others, the hideout is secure!" Arnold nodded. The two started walking back towards the hideout, the sun right above their heads. "I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch your name."

"Arnold; it's been a pleasure, Liz. You're a pretty good shot - it's a windy day, not exactly sniping conditions." Arnold said.

"Thanks, but I'm nowhere near as good as you! Two guards in one burst! I didn't even think that was possible!" Liz was practically ecstatic with admiration. They reached the hideout at the same time as the other Assassins. Everyone assembled in the main hall, and Ariel made a short statement about the day's events and everyone's efforts, and then they dispersed. Arnold approached Ariel, and leaned on on knee as he had seen Michael do the day before.

"Mentor, I have made my decision. I wish to side with you, and fight to preserve humanity's freedom." Arnold solemnly said.

"Very well Arnold, we shall perform the initiation ceremony tonight. Not all branches still follow the old customs, but I've always felt we should stay true to our roots." Ariel replied with a warm smile. "Talk to Michael, he will provide you with your instructions."

~ ~ ~

The moon was full that night. The Assassins gathered within the hall, ready to welcome another among their ranks. Arnold walked slowly towards the end of the hall. Ariel stood there, waiting for him next to a lit brazier. As he reached Ariel, she bowed slightly, right hand over her heart. Arnold did the same. "Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine." Ariel spoke, a seriousness present about her voice, "The wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words. Where other men blindly follow the truth, we remember,"

Arnold recited, "Nothing is true."

Ariel continued, "Where other men are limited by morality and law, we remember,"

"Everything is permitted." said Arnold.

"We work in the dark, to serve the light. We are the Assassins and this is our Creed." with that, Ariel concluded her speech.

All the other Assassins chanted, "Nothing is True. Everything is Permitted." Ariel picked up tongs that were in the brazier, and Arnold extended his left ring finger. Arnold cringed in pain as the tongs burnt his skin, forever branding him with the mark of the Assassins. He looked at the others. Jake, Liz and Michael beamed up at him. I am one of them now. I am an Assassin.

The Spartan Assassin[]

Classified UNSC Officer: "This armor is the fruit of the combined labor of many years of blood, sweat and tears of many dedicated researchers. Under no circumstances are you ever to allow this to end up in the hands of the enemy. Am I understood?"
Spartans: "Sir, yes sir!"
―The Spartans being briefed about the MJOLNIR Powered Assault Armor Mk IV.

Arnold was on his way over to Jake. According to Michael, asides from repairs, Jake had made a few modifications to his armor in the two weeks since he had joined the Order. Not much had happened in that time - training, patrols, the usual. Ariel had spent some time in her study with the Apple, but had thus far, been unable to get it to respond.

"There you are!" Jake called as Arnold approached his workshop. It was a puzzling room, filled with various devices, small and large. Jake was in the middle of the room, standing over what was, or rather, used to be, Arnold's MJOLNIR armor. "No doubt Michael's told you I've made a few modifications to your armor."

Arnold's new armor.

"A few? I can't even recognize it and I've been using it for the last seven years! It looks amazing!" Arnold said upon seeing the armor.

"Try it on! I've repaired everything, made a new helmet and added in some experimental tech we our hands on from some salvaged Elite armor." Jake went on, "Even the UNSC hasn't been able to come up with something this awesome, because frankly, the lack the skills, and the drive."

Arnold donned the suit of armor, once military green, now white; it felt much lighter than before. He picked up his new helmet. "They're at war with a highly advanced race of zealous space-aliens. I'm pretty sure they've got the motivation," Arnold smirked. The helmet featured seven angular spikes, one to each side, and the face plate was fused into a single piece and contour. It also boasted a significantly smaller visor area, reducing the risk of getting shot in the head, as the visor was the weakest part of the MJOLNIR Armor. The shoulders included spiked pauldrons, known as s'ode, and the chest piece was branded with the Assassin insignia. The armor was reminiscent of the ancient Samurai that had inhabited Earth nearly a millennium ago.

Jake tossed him an Assault Rifle, and joked "Regardless, you're one of us now. Strike a pose!" As he smiled, his hand subconsciously moved to the scar on his left cheek.

"Thanks. Can I ask you how you got that scar?" Arnold questioned, curious about the sudden movement.

"Got on the ugly side of one of those Elites." Jake said, a look of remembrance on his face, "Though I'm not sure if they have a side that isn't ugly." he winked. "Liz saved my ass that day. If it weren't for her quick aim, we wouldn't be having this conversation today. But I grudgingly respect the Elites, because even though they hate humanity's guts, they're honorable, and more importantly, they're highly skilled engineers. Speaking of which, there's a small button on the inner side of your left boot - try pressing that."

Arnold knocked his feet together. Suddenly, the surface of his armor became nearly transparent, leaving only a faint outline and rendering him effectively invisible. "Two weeks?" Arnold said in disbelief, "There is no way you did all of this in such a short time!"

"Well, it took some dedication, and a lot of coffee, but I think you'll like how it performs out in the field. The Elites call it Active Camouflage. I've uploaded a backup of some sensitive information - you know, in case things go wrong, and a signal jammer to your neural interface. Only I have the password to the data, and the information is heavily encrypted so it's extremely secure." Jake went on. "Oh and, I should warn you, the camo doesn't last forever, just seven to twelve minutes as of now. I'm trying to increase the time, but all we have to study is some dama-"

"It's more than good enough, Jake." Arnold interrupted, "You've done an awesome job on this; I appreciate it."

"Alrighty then." Jake smiled, "Ariel said she was looking for you. Looks like you're about to receive your first mission, Spartan Assassin."

Chapter Three - The Eagle[]

First Blood[]

Arnold walked over to the main hall in his new armor, where he found Ariel waiting for him, along with Michael and Liz.

"Good of you to join us Arnold," Ariel smiled, "I see Jake's done with your armor; that should make this mission a lot easier. The Templars are trying to regain their influence here on Earth, secretly controlling several Insurrection leaders as well as some notable figures in the UGE. A Templar by the name of Robert Peterson is scheduled to meet with a highly influential UGE figure today. Make sure he never gets there, but do not kill him. Do not engage in open combat, and leave no evidence behind. Details are on your headsets via channel Papa-Charlie-Alpha on our network." A popup appeared on the corner of Arnold's HUD that read "Pigeon Coop: Channel A". Ariel turned to Arnold, "Your briefing is available on your Neural Interface, which Jake connected to our own network instead of the UNSC's when he made your new helmet. Good luck everyone. Dismissed."

The three Assassins walked towards the Armory to select the weapons they would use for the mission. Arnold was awed by the collection of weapons present in front of him. "Alright, we'll be going in up close. I'd recommend Hidden Blades along with a suppressed SMG in case things get ugly." Michael said with a gruff tone. "Arnold, your armor has separate slots for hidden blade integration; and we've got a room full of salvaged Covenant weaponry you can check out as well." Arnold went into the room Michael pointed towards. Inside, the first thing that caught his eye was a giant hammer-like object with a large curved blade on one side and glowing lights on the other.

The Banhammer of Sima.

"That my friend, by approximate translation, is the Banhammer of Sima. Sima was one of the more zealous Jiralhanae Chieftains and would use his mighty hammer to banish all threats to the Covenant." Michael explained, " Of all the Jiralhanae, Sima was known for not only being a mighty warrior, much like the rest of the race, but also for his great intellect. That's what the data files on the Covenant ship we recovered it from said anyway. It took 6 Assassins to bring this in for study, because it's so ridiculously heavy." Arnold picked up the hammer with some effort. "Now you're just showing off!" Michael laughed.

"Doesn't really seem like your style though. I'd suggest something lighter, less conspicuous." Liz commented. Arnold put the hammer back on its stand and looked around the room. What immediately caught his eye was none other than an Energy Sword, a weapon commonly associated with the Sangheili, better known as the Elites. He walked over to the lone hilt, and activated it. A glowing plasma blade formed along the edges of the hilt, encompassing the entire room in its shocking blue light.

"A bit bright don't you think?" Arnold asked, his eyes squinting beneath his helmet.

"Don't worry, it goes transparent while you're in Active Camo," said Jake as he walked into the room and tossed Arnold a suppressed SMG. "Now get over here and pick out which Hidden Blade modifications you want so we can move out; we don't have all day." Arnold followed Jake back into the main room with the SMG and Energy Sword on him, and looked through the various Hidden Blades. "Alright, we've got the traditional ones, suppressed Hidden Guns, Shock Blades, Grappling Hookblades, Poison Blades, and even a prototype for a plasma-based Hidden Blade. What'll it be?" Jake asked impatiently.

"What does the Grappling Hookblade do?" Arnold inquired, curious about the strange design.

"A blend of Chinese and Ottoman culture - it fires a sharp hook attached to some extremely strong and durable cable from your wrist that can be used at medium range. If it weren't for the weight of your armor, you could also use it to help you climb. Theoretically, it's still possible, but I'd advise against it."

"I like the sound of that. I'll take the Shock Blade and the Grappling Hookblade then. So, where's our ride? The Neural Interface said we'll be going there by Falcon. How did you guys get your hands on UNSC equipment anyway?" Arnold asked, skeptic.

"It should be here any minute right now." Liz said as they left the Armory, "And the Assassin Order is much more organized compared to, say 500 years ago. You can safely assume we know anything and everything that the UNSC knows." she said with a mysterious wink. As they stepped outside the base, a helicopter slowly hovered down, blowing sand around as it landed a few feet away from Arnold, Michael and Liz.

"This is Echo-One-Alpha, everyone ready for the mission?" Arnold heard over his communications channel.

"Roger that, Echo-One-Alpha, good to see you again." Michael said as everyone boarded the Falcon, with him and Liz taking the turrets and Arnold on the passengers' seat. Arnold looked on as they took to the skies, their base becoming ever so small and insignificant as they went higher, eventually disappearing amidst the dust clouds that filled the desert below.

~ ~ ~

"Alright team, the flight went without a hitch, but that doesn't mean it's going to be easy." said Michael as the team exited the Falcon and walked onto the roof of a building. "Okay, Peterson is inside that building over there," he continued, pointing a bit further into the city. "He's going to come out in approximately half an hour. How should we proceed?"

"We could wait for him to come out, or attack now. What do you think, Arnold?" Liz asked.

"He lives alone, so we could get him now and save everyone some time. That okay with you, Jake?" Arnold inquired over his communications channel.

"As your tactician, I have to say, that's not the best idea in the world unless you're prepared. Intel shows us that he is currently alone, and you guys should have things easy. So, you can go ahead if you want, but it would be easier to get him while he's on the move." Jake told the team from back at the base.

"It's a lot harder to avoid leaving evidence out in the open, though. Alright team, let's get cracking." With that, Arnold and the team were off, jumping from building to building and navigating the urban cityscape with ease - the Assassins having had parkour training and Arnold with his Spartan training. Arnold's initial style was a lot less graceful and fluid compared to the others' but he soon adapted, going as far as to incorporating the Grappling Hookblade into his maneuvers. Within a few minutes, the trio was outside Peterson's building.

"Okay, I'll zip up and get him from behind by going through that window. You two go through the front and distract him, got it?" As the team nodded in approval, Arnold fired the Grappling Hookblade upwards with the hook latching on to the roof of the building. Arnold gave the rope a tug to check if it was secure and proceeded to climb upwards.

Robert Peterson was getting ready. All he had left was to put on his cuff-links which were in the shape of a square cross. He checked his reflection in the mirror. A well-dressed middle-aged man looked back at him. He ran his hair across his neat dark-brown hair and then checked his expensive-looking watch. Time to go. He was just about to leave when he heard a knock on the door. Just as he opened it, Arnold struck from behind, instantly neutralizing Robert with the Shock Blade.

"He won't be up for a few hours." said Arnold, phasing out of Active Camouflage. Michael and Liz nodded, and proceeded to remove all evidence of their presence, and placed Robert on the couch.

"Now nobody will suspect a thing. Good work Arnold; mission accomplished." reported Michael. "Let's get back to base."

Rest in Peace[]

Coming soon...


  • Like many well-known Assassins of the Order, Arnold's motif was that of a bird:
    • Arnold is a name of Germanic origin, meaning "Eagle King".
    • Rayner is an Old German surname, meaning "Wise Warrior".
  • Coincidentally, Arnold possessed a scar on his upper lip, acquired during his days of training as a Spartan.
  • Arnold shares the same birth-date as Desmond Miles.
  • Hephaestus was the Greek god of technology, blacksmiths, artisans, metallurgy and volcanoes.
  • It is possible that Wayne Vidic was a descendant of Warren Vidic.
  • The unofficial theme song for Spartan's Creed is "Journey to Halo 4" by Remix Fix. Support them in any way you can! =)

Easter eggs[]


Feel free to have one! User:Gabriel Auditore/UserSC

{{User:Gabriel Auditore/UserSC}}


This is a small poll so that I can get some feedback from you guys ;)

User:Gabriel Auditore/sig 12:42, December 31, 2012 (UTC)