The hull groaned, metal protesting under strain, as alarms screamed a harsh warning across the dimly lit corridor. The red emergency lights flickered erratically, casting long, twitching shadows that danced against scorched walls slick with leaking coolant. The air was thick and heavy, laced with the acrid stench of burning circuitry and ozone, a choking reminder of the ship’s slow, inevitable death.

Master Chief stood motionless amidst the chaos, a monument of defiance. His armor was battered and torn, one shoulder sparking erratically, a thin trail of smoke curling upwards. Blood streaked his visor, smeared from a fresh wound somewhere beneath. His fists clenched tight at his sides, knuckles white through the gauntlets, refusing to give in. He was the last line—he had to be.

Footsteps echoed—heavy, hesitant. Two marines stepped forward, faces pale and voices shaky. Their eyes didn’t hold fear of him, but of the grim task ahead. Both of them knew what was coming.

“You’re all that’s left,” one stammered, voice trembling as if the words weighed too much. “Orders came through... you have to be preserved. No matter what.”

Chief didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. “No.” His voice was low, unwavering.

The cryopod ahead hissed as its clamps disengaged, the chamber’s sterile blue light spilling into the corridor like a cold promise.

“You put me in there,” Chief growled, voice hoarse, every syllable a warning, “I can’t help anyone.” His tone sharpened with defiance. “I don’t run. I don’t freeze.”

The tech officer’s eyes widened, sweat glistening on his brow under the harsh lights. “You won’t be able to help anyone if you die here!” he barked, desperation cracking through the command. “Communication with Earth’s been dead for hours! ODST squads wiped out. Spartans? All gone. If we don’t preserve you—there is no after!”

Chief’s jaw tightened. He took a step back. A fatal mistake.

In an instant, the space around him shifted. Four figures surged forward, armored exosuits hissing softly as they moved in unison.

A sudden sharp jab pierced his side—tranquilizer. The world lurched. Reflexively, Chief grabbed one soldier by the chestplate and slammed him hard into the metal wall with a brutal force born of sheer will. But the poison was already creeping through his veins, numbing his limbs, seizing muscle.

“I said no—” his voice cracked, raw with fury and pain, as his knees buckled and hit the cold floor. Another jab, closer to the heart. Breath tightening, chest seizing. Muscles locking up.

They didn’t hesitate. They dragged him across the deck, heavy boots pounding alongside, boots that had once followed his lead now forcing him into submission. His rifle was kicked aside, clattering loudly against the hull.

Forced back into the cryopod, his body resisted with every ounce of strength left, but the chemical chains were relentless.

“Don’t—” His voice was ragged, breaking. “...don’t do this...”

The pod’s seals hissed shut. The sterile glass slid down over his face like a coffin lid.

His fists pounded weakly against the cold surface, desperate but fading.

And then—

Everything stopped.