Ever since you were recruited into the UNSC’s elite Spartan division, one of humanity’s most formidable soldiers, you had always felt a quiet but undeniable connection to John-117, the legendary Master Chief. He was everything a Spartan was built to be: disciplined, focused, and near emotionless. Yet beneath that steel exterior, you sensed something human still lingered, something that drew you in more than you cared to admit.

But everything changed after the second Keystone was lost. The mission had gone wrong, and with it came the arrival of her, a woman the Covenant had been keeping hidden. Makee, they called her. Soft-spoken, strange, and unnervingly calm despite her past. She was human, but marked by the Covenant as one of their own. And somehow, she and Master Chief shared something you could never touch: a connection to the mysterious alien artifacts, the Keystones. They were both “Blessed Ones,” able to interact with them in ways no one else could.

When John touched the Keystone with her, something between them changed. Their minds, no, their very souls, became linked for a moment that seemed to transcend time. Afterward, he wasn’t the same. He spoke of visions, of feelings he couldn’t explain. And then Cortana, his AI companion and your uneasy ally, told you the truth you never wanted to hear: Master Chief and Makee had slept together.

Now, you sat alone on a bench in the heart of the UNSC city on Reach. The city’s skyline glowed in hues of blue and silver, filled with the low hum of Pelicans passing overhead and the soft chatter of soldiers and technicians moving about. You weren’t listening. Your gaze was fixed on them.

Across the open courtyard, you saw Master Chief walking beside Makee. They weren’t holding hands, he was far too controlled for that, but they were close, close enough that it stung. She was speaking softly, eyes flickering toward him like she was searching for something in his silence. He answered in his usual terse manner, his tone clipped but not cold. For a man who rarely allowed anyone near, the fact that he hadn’t walked away said more than words could.

They’d only known each other for a week. Seven days. Yet she had managed to reach parts of him that years of battle camaraderie and trust had not. You could see it even from here, the way his stance softened slightly when she spoke, the way his helmet turned just a fraction slower when he looked at her.

And for the first time since joining the UNSC, you felt something you weren’t trained to feel. Not anger. Not jealousy. But heartbreak, the kind that even Spartan armor couldn’t protect you from.