“C’mon, Stray, can’t we talk this through?” Simon-G294 brought his assault rifle to bear, the sensors in his helmet pinpointing the source of the noise. His quarry’s voice bounced off the storage crates that lined the shipyard, its playfully mocking tones seeming to come from every direction at once. The Spartan—former Spartan—advanced down the storage bay, wary of the crates that rose up on either side. The helmet sensors pulsed faintly by his head as they worked to locate the voice. A light flashed on Simon’s Heads Up Display: the voice had come from a corner to his left. “Son of a bitch--!”