The hum of machinery filled the air aboard the Ship of Autumn. Origin, a member of the Seven, stood before a complex computer, a recent acquisition from his Earth. The soft glow of the screen reflected off his focused expression as he adjusted the machine, trying to clarify a strange signal.

"Huh, weird," Origin muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion.

After a few more adjustments, the signal sharpened, revealing a communication attempt. Origin's eyes widened as he recognized the source.

"It's Jonesy!" he exclaimed, turning toward Captain Keyes, who stood nearby. "Captain Keyes, it's Agent Jonesy! He's trying to contact us."

Without hesitation, Captain Keyes activated his earpiece, his expression turning serious.

"Jonesy, this is Captain Keyes," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "What's your status?"

Agent Jonesy ducked behind cover, his Tactical Assault Rifle barking as he fired at the approaching Raiders. Despite the tense situation, there was a familiar enthusiasm in his voice as he responded to the call.

"Captain Keyes! I'm glad you picked up! We've got Mason and Woods with us, but we're in the middle of a serious gunfight here. We need backup, like, right now!" Jonesy's words were punctuated by bursts of gunfire.

Keyes' voice crackled over the earpiece. "Understood, Jonesy. Stay put. I'm sending Marines, Arbiter, and Master Chief to assist."

Jonesy peered out from behind his cover, firing another burst at the advancing Raiders before quickly ducking back down. "Wait, what about the Foundation? Is he not coming?"

"He's not here at the moment," Keyes replied. "Hang tight, Jonesy. Reinforcements are on their way."

As bullets ricocheted off the walls around him, Jonesy spoke urgently. "Captain, hurry! We're getting pinned down here!"

Captain Keyes quickly turned to the personnel nearby. "Get some Marines here! Also, have Master Chief and Arbiter prepared for immediate deployment!"

The personnel nodded and rushed off to gather the reinforcements. Keyes then turned back to Origin.

"Origin, do you know how to use the rift to send them there?" he asked.

Origin nodded confidently. "Yes, I do. We'll get them there in no time."

Keyes sighed, his expression a mixture of determination and concern. Time was running out for Jonesy and his team.

Back on the Ground, Abandoned Factory, The trio of Alex Mason, Frank Woods, and Avery J. Johnson had finally reached the factory's exit, only to stop dead in their tracks. Ahead of them stood Crazy Jack, his grin wide and maniacal as he held Noriega hostage. Surrounding him were Raiders armed to the teeth, including four clad in power armor, each wielding a different heavy weapon—minigun, plasma rifle, flamethrower, and combat rifle.

"Son of a bitch," Mason cursed under his breath. "He's brought Noriega with him."

Woods, his eyes narrowing, held up a hand. "Hold. Let's see what this psycho wants."

Crazy Jack's eyes gleamed with madness as he surveyed the damage Mason and his team had inflicted on his men. He chuckled darkly.

"Well, well, well," Jack called out, his voice loud and mocking. "Looks like we got ourselves some real badasses here. Took out a lot of my boys. I'm impressed."

Jack stepped forward, dragging Noriega with him. The Raiders around him tensed, their weapons at the ready.

"So," Jack continued, his grin widening, "what about my boy you just took as hostage? Where is he?"

Woods, ever the sarcastic one, smirked. "Oh, he's safe. Don't worry about him."

Avery J. Johnson stepped forward, his voice firm and steady. "We'll let him go if you let Noriega go. Simple trade."

Jack threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the factory. His eyes gleamed with twisted amusement as he looked around at the carnage.

"You boys think you can negotiate with me?" Jack taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Look around. My men are dead, and you think a simple trade is gonna fix this? No, no, no. Because of you, negotiation isn't an option anymore."

Mason swore under his breath, realizing how dire the situation had become.

Jack's grin turned sinister as he pressed the barrel of his gun to Noriega's head. "What I want now are your heads. And once I've got them, I'll finish off this piece of shit too."

The tension in the room was palpable as the trio faced off against Jack and his men. The Raiders, with their weapons ready, waited for Jack's signal to attack.

"So," Jack said, his voice dripping with anticipation, "what's it gonna be, heroes? Ready to die for this guy?"

Mason, Woods, and Johnson exchanged quick glances, their military instincts kicking in as they prepared for the inevitable fight. Every muscle in their bodies tensed as they braced themselves for the violence that was sure to come.

Johnson's voice broke through the tension, his words urgent. "Jonesy's not here. I need to get back to him."

Jack, sensing hesitation, raised his gun higher, his finger hovering over the trigger. "If you boys don't start fighting me right now, I'll blow his brains out. You've got ten seconds."

The countdown began, and with it, the factory seemed to grow colder, darker—filled with the anticipation of bloodshed.

Crazy Jack's voice echoed through the air, each word dripping with menace as he began his countdown.

"Ten... Nine..."

Alex Mason gritted his teeth and turned to Johnson, his voice firm. "Okay, Johnson, we'll cover you. Get back to Jonesy."

Frank Woods glanced around nervously, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "How the hell are we supposed to cover him? We're outnumbered and outgunned."

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"Eight... Seven..." Jack's voice reverberated, almost gleeful in its anticipation.

Johnson's eyes scanned their surroundings, his military instincts kicking in as he assessed the terrain. The building was large enough, filled with potential choke points and hiding spots that could be used to their advantage.

"This building's big enough to work in our favor," Johnson muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Plenty of places to hide, flank, and ambush. We use the environment to our advantage."

Mason nodded, his expression grim. "We move fast, hit hard, and keep them guessing."

"Six... Five..." Jack sneered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.

Woods met Mason's gaze, determination flaring in his eyes. "We hit 'em hard, we hit 'em fast. We don't give this lunatic the satisfaction."

"Four... Three..." Jack's countdown continued, his voice rising with anticipation.

As Jack's voice echoed through the halls, Mason, Woods, and Johnson positioned themselves strategically within the building's interior, their breaths coming slow and controlled.

Johnson leaned close to Mason, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll create a diversion. Keep his focus on me while you and Woods move into position."

Mason's reply was grim. "We'll buy you as much time as we can. Just get to Jonesy and get us that backup."

Woods, gripping his weapon tightly, nodded. "No screw-ups, no hesitation. We move as one."

"Two... One..." Jack savored the final count, his finger tightening on the trigger.

But Woods was faster. In one swift motion, he yanked the pin from a flashbang and tossed it toward Jack and his men. The device exploded with a blinding flash and deafening bang, disorienting the Raiders and throwing Jack off balance.

"Move, move, move!" Woods shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The trio sprang into action with military precision. Johnson took point, his BR55 Battle Rifle leading the way as they retreated into the deeper corridors of the building.

"Woods, take the right flank. Mason, cover the left," Johnson instructed, his voice controlled despite the tension. "I'll head straight back to Jonesy."

Woods darted to the right, his AK-47 at the ready. His movements were fluid and professional, honed by years of combat experience.

"No hesitation," Woods murmured quietly to himself, his eyes scanning the area for threats. "Hit them where it hurts."

Mason moved to the left, his M16 held tightly as he used the shadows and debris for cover. His sharp gaze took in every detail, searching for potential ambushes.

"We keep them off balance," Mason growled under his breath. "They won't know what hit them."

As they moved deeper into the building, the trio used their military training to their advantage, turning every corner, every piece of cover, into a potential defense. The air was thick with tension, but they moved with purpose.

"We're going dark," Johnson whispered into the comms. "Keep your eyes open and stay sharp. No mistakes."

Behind them, Jack shook off the effects of the flashbang, a crazed grin spreading across his face. His eyes gleamed with unhinged excitement as he watched his prey retreat.

"Oh, you fellas think you can hide?" Jack laughed, his voice twisted with delight. "You think you can outsmart me? This is gonna be fun!"

He turned to his men, who were still rubbing their eyes and shaking their heads, struggling to recover from the disorientation.

"Find them!" Jack barked, his tone shifting to aggression. "Kill them all! I want their heads on spikes!"

Jack pointed to two of the Raiders, his voice dripping with malice. "You two, stay here and watch Noriega. Put him somewhere he can't run. The rest of you, with me. We're going hunting."

As Jack's men scrambled to follow his orders, Jack's twisted grin only widened. He savored the thrill of the chase, his excitement building as he prepared for the bloody game ahead.

The Raiders, still shaken but terrified of their leader, scrambled to obey. Two of them roughly grabbed Noriega, dragging him away to a secure position, while the others hurried after Crazy Jack. Jack led the way, his grin widening with anticipation as he envisioned the bloodshed to come.

"This guy's nuts," The Raider whispered to another Raider, casting a nervous glance at Jack. "But if we don't do what he says, we're dead too."

"Just keep your head down," The other Raider replied, equally nervous. "And hope we find them before they find us."

Jack suddenly stopped, overhearing their whispers. His grin vanished, replaced by a murderous glare that sent a chill down their spines.

"Time to have some fun, boys," Jack said sinisterly, his voice low and threatening. "Let's see how long they last."

Galvanized by Jack's insanity and the intimidating presence of their power-armored comrades, the Raiders steeled themselves for the assault. With fear and madness driving them, they charged toward the factory, unaware of the careful preparations the trio inside had made to turn the building into a deadly battlefield.

Inside the factory, Agent Jonesy darted through the dimly lit corridors, the sounds of chaos growing louder around him. His heart pounded in his chest as he searched for cover, eventually diving behind a stack of crates. Breathing heavily, he tried to collect himself, the echoes of battle ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, the distinct sound of a missile being fired pierced the air. Jonesy looked up just in time to see a Raider with a missile launcher grinning down at him.

"Gotcha, you little..." the Raider sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger.

The missile launched, but due to the Raider's inexperience and poor aim, it veered off course, slamming into a nearby wall. The explosion was deafening, sending debris flying in every direction and knocking Jonesy backward into the crates. He crashed hard, the impact leaving him gasping for air.

"Ugh... that was too close," Jonesy grunted, pain shooting through his body as he struggled to regain his footing.

In the distance, Alex Mason cleared his area with military precision. The distant sound of the explosion caused him to pause, his instincts kicking in.

"Woods, was that you?" Mason asked over the comms, his voice tight with concern.

"No, that wasn't me," Frank Woods responded. "Whatever that shit was, it doesn't sound good."

"I don't like the sound of it either. Stay sharp," Mason replied, his eyes narrowing as worry settled in.

He shook off the thought, refocusing on the mission, but a nagging concern lingered in the back of his mind. "Could be Johnson... maybe he's creating a diversion," Mason muttered to himself.

Jonesy, still reeling from the explosion, heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to see a Raider advancing on him, weapon raised and a menacing grin spreading across his face.

"Looks like I found our little rat," the Raider sneered.

Panic surged through Jonesy as he raised his hands in surrender. "Wait, wait! I'm just the messenger! Please, don't shoot!" he pleaded desperately.

The Raider chuckled, turning slightly to call out to his comrades. "Hey, I got the—"

Before he could finish, a bolt of plasma struck him square in the chest. The Raider collapsed, dead before he even hit the ground. The other Raiders whirled around in confusion, trying to pinpoint the source of the shot.

"What the hell was that? Who shot him?" one Raider cried out in panic.

Jonesy, still crouched behind the crates, heard heavy footsteps approaching rapidly. The Raiders spread out, weapons at the ready, their fear palpable. Before they could react, a shimmering blur darted through their ranks.

"He's here! He's right—" one Raider screamed, but he was silenced by the hum of an energy sword cutting through the air.

The Arbiter, cloaked in active camouflage, materialized in the midst of the Raiders, his energy sword slicing through them with deadly precision. The Raiders fought back, but they were hopelessly outmatched. The Arbiter moved like a ghost, appearing and disappearing as he cut down his enemies one by one.

"He's using a Stealth Boy! I can't see him! Where is he?!" another Raider shouted in terror.

But the Arbiter wasn't using a Stealth Boy—he was using the advanced technology of his armor, and the Raiders stood no chance against him. His plasma carbine fired with pinpoint accuracy, taking out distant targets, while his energy sword cleaved through those who came too close. Within moments, the battlefield was littered with Raider corpses.

The last remaining Raider stumbled backward, firing wildly into the air, his panic overtaking him. But the Arbiter closed the distance with lethal speed, his energy sword humming as it cut through the final Raider's body. The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Jonesy, wide-eyed and still hiding behind the crates, whispered to himself, "Holy crap..."

The Arbiter deactivated his camouflage, revealing his imposing figure. Calmly, he turned toward Jonesy, who was now cautiously standing up, still in awe of what he had just witnessed.

"Are you unharmed?" the Arbiter asked, his deep voice filled with authority.

Jonesy broke into a grin, his fear replaced by overwhelming relief. Rushing over to the Arbiter, he nearly threw his arms around the Elite in a hug.

"Arbiter! Man, am I glad to see you! You saved my life!" Jonesy exclaimed.

The Arbiter, uncomfortable with the gesture, gently pushed him away. "We must regroup with the others," he said, his tone serious. "The battle is far from over."