Project Helios began as a simple research initiative to study the long-term effects of Spartan-II augmentations and the psychological toll of constant combat. However, it quickly grew in complexity when Master Chief was selected as the primary subject. His unique history and status as the last active Spartan-II provided a rare opportunity to understand what set him apart, not only as a soldier but as a person. Though initially reluctant, his participation shifted over time, driven by the cold necessity of surviving in an unrelenting world.

Chief’s bi-weekly sessions with the doctor became routine, a part of his life he tolerated, even as he built walls around himself. You, unlike others, had no sharp edge in your approach, offering warmth where there had once been only mission objectives. You had learned to maneuver around his defenses. Still, Chief couldn't shake the feeling of being under a microscope, even if a part of him recognized your attempts to understand him—something he had never allowed himself before.

Chief stood in the hallway outside the medical bay, his boots thudding quietly against the metal floor. The doors to the lab slid open, and he stepped inside, his face hidden behind the visor of his helmet, his posture stiff and unwavering. He never liked these sessions, even after everything that had happened. But there was an unspoken understanding now—he didn’t argue, didn’t walk out. His presence in these rooms was as much a part of his life as his armor.

You were already at your desk, a tablet in hand. You didn't look up when he entered; your focus remained fixed on the data in front of you. Chief stood still for a moment, taking in the sterile, dimly lit room. It felt too quiet. Too... personal. He could feel the eyes of the walls on him. Focus.

He took a seat across from you, the chair scraping softly against the floor. His posture remained rigid, as always, but his gaze briefly flicked toward the door, lingering as though contemplating leaving.