Marcozo

Awaken

A deep sigh emitted from inside a helmet, scraped and damaged alike the man's body and spirit.

"Naomi?"

With a sputtering cough, the man known as Arlon Marcozo rolled over onto his chest, his arms numb but able to move as he pressed his forearms against the concrete surface. With a huff, he pushed against the cold material, propping himself up to his knees, taking a deep breath before groaning in shock.

He tilted his head downwards, noting the bullet wound dripping blood down from his chest, marking his undersuit with stains of red.

Marcozo looked to his left, then his right, trying to figure out how much time has passed since he fell. How long has he been here, dying?

A cruel twist of fate would have suggested about seven hours, but Marcozo was certain the dawn of day had yet to show.

The soldier, once again abandoned and in pain, attempted to stand, only to find himself colliding with the wall nearby. He punched the wall in retaliation for his condition, for letting Naomi get away.

"Can't kill me, can she?" He sighed.

Dragging his fingers along the back of his helmet, he slid it off before dropping it unceremoniously against the ground. With one hand, he rubbed against his face, tracing against his auburn beard, a stubble that was groomed yet still rough.

His jaw felt oddly numb, as did his cheeks and the back of his head. Perhaps shock of the impact? He could only guess.

Looking upwards towards the sky, the moon shone down upon him, still continuing its cycle as it was soon to near the horizon. As the glowing light lit up his scarred and toned face, his slate-topped eyes looked as if they too were glowing. Somehow, it was like he could feel himself become alive again, like he could crawl out of the rubble and run a marathon.

All because of Naomi Marres.

Naomi.

Or someone else?

Feeling stiff in his neck, Marcozo shifted his head to the right, cracking it as a wave of pleasure burst all throughout him. What a rush it was for him, a rush like he was on Reach again, surrounded by enemies... and of course friends.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance for his predicament, Marcozo shuffled along the wall before adjusting and noticing the elevator still operational.

For now, he only had one goal in mind.

Find Naomi Marres.

"Think the world is yours, don't ya? Think you can... just push everyone away and then act like... we're nothing?" Marcozo muttered, shaking his head lightly as he almost began to see double.

Frustrated by this apparent weakness, the soldier hit the wall again, creating a dent against the steel that supported him along his way. This created another boost of adrenaline as he shifted closer to the elevator, determined to get out there, and get revenge.

As he took a step closer, he felt himself kick something. His helmet.

"Well... fuck."

He lowered himself slightly to pick it up, grasping it in his tired hands before studying the front of it, noting the marks on the visor.

"Just a scratch." He nodded to himself.

Soon Marcozo found himself lost in thought, staring at the helmet while deep within his head, he was staring at damage across a forearm. Not his own, but someone he knew, a friend perhaps?

Without moving, Marcozo felt his gaze shift up as he looked to the ally who belonged to the forearm.

"Just a scratch, Gregg. Knife barely even pierced in, not deep enough to do damage anyway."

The ally, Gregg, looked down at his wound once more, biting his lip. With a sigh, he took it from Marcozo's view and attempted to dress it with the first aid kit. Soon, something alike a scream echoed in Marcozo's ears as he staggered backwards.

"H-hey? Arlon, what's going on? Arlon!?" Gregg called out as he reached for Marcozo.

"She abandoned me!" Marcozo swiped back at Gregg, only to find himself not on Reach, but still on the rooftop.

The soldier was breathing heavily, looking around yet again as he realized it was just his imagination, a mere memory of a time that once was. A time he missed. A team he missed.

"Get a grip, Arlon. You're not out of the woods yet."

Soon, Marcozo was back to shuffling along to the elevator, collecting the helmet back to his head as it clicked into place, his HUD flicking back to life as the elevator was a large glow to his eyes. A sign.

It wasn't too long before Marcozo entered the shaft, staggering as he managed to land his body against the wall of the elevator, looking towards the button.

"Where would you go, Naomi?"

His fingers reached out, brushing against the buttons before finally pressing 'Ground floor'.

"Extraction." He laughed a little to himself as the doors closed, and the adventure to the ground floor began. "Why is it that I never get extraction?" He snickered, finding it to be strange how it was becoming a reoccurring thing in his life.

The elevator hummed as it passed floor by floor, level by level, as if Marcozo was descending into Hell itself.

Well, he was going to make it Hell, he would do whatever he needed if it meant finding Naomi.

But first, he was going to need some resources. A lot of resources.

"Resources... resources... Who... yeah, yeah I know one just for the job."

The doors opened, a group of mercenaries had their guns raised to Marcozo. Dominae's goons.

"Hold it right there!" One called out, soon realizing who was standing there as the group began to stand down.

Marcozo looked between all of them, noting how some of them were battered, injured. Naomi was here, or at least had been there.

"Sorry sir, we thought she was coming back to finish us off."

"No, if she wanted you dead she would have stayed and killed you all, just like she tried with me." Marcozo looked down to his wound.

"Mr. Dominae's been silent, sir. We've tried establishing contact but-"

"But our friend Dominae just fucked us all over. We're no longer part of his plan. Never have been."

The mercenaries murmured amongst themselves. Marcozo sighed as he began to exit the elevator, pushing passed the pain as he shoved the soldiers aside.

"Where are you going, sir?"

"I'm going to find and kill Naomi Marres."

"How are you going to do that? She could be anywhere."

Marcozo soon stopped walking, turning around to face the group.

"Yeah, but unlike you guys, I have a few leads. So go look pretty for the press, I've got worked to do."

Arlon Marcozo continued to make his way through the warehouse, glancing at the corpses left behind, the wreckage laid across the floor as crates were knocked aside, traps were set off. He proceeded to make it to the exit, checking the door as it opened up.

"You can run away as much as you want Naomi, but I'm Arlon Marcozo, and I'm going to put you thousands of feet underground."