He was beginning to regret his decision. Sure, shooting himself out of a railgun had been a cool idea at the time, but now he was beginning to wonder if, perhaps, he had made a rash decision. That did seem like the understatement of the year, didn't it? Was there a way that his decision could have been rasher?

But, perhaps it was just the claustrophobia talking.

Strangely enough the forward railgun loaded rounds that were about as big as a man curled into a tight ball, so loading him into the chamber had not actually been that difficult, and as far as things went he was actually almost comfortable. The inside of the SE2 suit was built for extended periods of wear and tear.

The inside was lined in a sort of spongy memory foam sort of material that was sweat wicking and temperature regulating . From the way it had been described, the suit was capable of absorbing waste material from the skin and disposing of it. he didn't like to think about some of the specifics, but basically the suit was designed in such a way one could live inside it almost indefinitely.

There were a few drawbacks to the suit, of course.

Number one being that they were unbelievably expensive.

Like if his mother ever found out how much he hand spent on the suit she would certainly have an immediate aneurysm and die. To be fair, it had taken them almost a month to save up the money, and that was participating in the most lucrative black market work they could find, some of it questionably moral.

Like there was that one time they had been tasked with loading and taking care of a cargo shipment of human skin.

Not natural human skin of course, but lab grown humans skin, that they kept alive for the duration of the trip and handed over to a black market tanner who would turn the strange commodity into leather, which would then be sold to extreme eccentrics in the way of designer leather jackets , shoes and handbags.

The thought of that particular job made his stomach churn.

He was still struggling with the more efficacy of that one.

But no one had gotten hurt, it was just lab grown and it didn't have feelings, but still there was soemthing about that which was just wrong.

Weirdly enough he had felt better about the black market organs that Krill had taken care of in the medical bay for another run. He had made sure the trade was as ethical as possible before he had agreed to participate, again, the organs were lab grown, and he had watched them be disconnected to their support systems as they were loaded into his cargo.

Seemed odd that the most morally reprehensible jobs were also the most lucrative,

He would not participate in drug, weapons, or biological agents, but apparently black-market organs were not out of the question.

Either way those two jobs had been unbelievably lucrative.

He was sure that if normal people knew just how much could be made by participating in illegal activity, there would be a lot more people trying to get into the trade. Then again, most people didn't have a ship like he did, so there was that.

Either way the payout was big enough for him to buy the SE upgrade and armor.

The other major drawback to the SE armor was just how personalized it had to be to work properly. SE armor was designed to fit the wearer perfectly, which meant they had to be commissioned for a custom build and they could only ever hold on person.

For that reason, its creator had named the armor category.

Fealty

The armor was a solemn promise to one man or woman alone.

And this armor had promised itself to him.

This was the first time since the day he had purchased the armor, that he had gotten the chance to wear it.

He had stood in the weapons bay where it was preserved in a climate-controlled case and stared at it open mouthed for a little bit. It was pretty badass. When inside the suit he was almost a foot taller standing him almost an inch above Sunny.

The armor itself was segmented to cover his most vital parts, like you would expect from armor.

Starting from the feet up, the suit began with a set of absolutely massive boots that reached all the way up to just below his knee. They were big and heavy, and would have been impossible to walk around in if he didn't have the SE upgrade.

After that came the knee pads and thigh plates between which smaller plates of metal interlocked to give him full coverage, but still allowed for flexibility.

Whoever designed the armor had taken almost everything into account.

And that included, what Adam thought was the most important aspect, the coolness factor.

What was the point in having badass armor, if it didn't fit a certain aesthetic? Sure the armor was designed for fighting, but just like the pump action of a shotgun, the mere sound of the racking pump, and the sheer awesomeness of the Fealty Armor, should be more than enough to prevent a fight in the first place.

Also it had a jetpack.

Granted normal jetpacks would not have been nearly strong enough to lift the behemoth off the ground, which all together constituted a weight of a small car, however, someone had also fixed that problem by incorporating gravity boots into the design. IT didn't matter how heavy the armor weighed if the gravity bots were working.

There had also been an optional upgrade package that would have included a sick paint job, which Sunny had discouraged him against, but he hadn't been able to resist . Generally speaking there seems to be an unwritten rule that helmeted super soldiers wear green with orange visors, but, he was willing to break that tradition.

In the end he had settled on something the salesman had called black silver, a metallic sheen that was darker than silver but still resembled metal. Underneath he had chosen a mat black, and for his highlight color he had gone with a sports car green, which was visible primarily as warlike streaks of paint on the shoulders forearms chest and thighs, as well as his green tinted visor.

Had he peed himself just a little in excitement?

He was not inclined to answer that comment.

And now here he was inside the Fealty armor crammed inside the barrel of a massive railgun preparing to shoot himself at the side of a ship where, one wrong move or last-minute adjustment could send him splattering like a bug across a windshield. Inside his visor, the Se armor gave him continual updates that seemed almost excited.

They had told him that the machine was run by some sort of AI.

They said it was incapable of human speech but that it was quote on quote "Smart" experiencing random pockets of code that sometimes-resembled emotion.

What he had understood from that was that this machine had been designed to enjoy combat.

And now it monitored everything around him with intense glee sending a thrumming up through his body.

"Are you sure about this." Narobi said over the comms. Somewhere distant the ship rattled as their shield took another hit. He felt his skin break out I a sudden sweat.

The third drawback?

The only thing he was wearing inside the armor was a skintight black catsuit that molded to his every contour. It was really no better than being naked, and he certainly hoped he didn't have to take off the armor any time soon.

Inside his chest his heart pounded, and the AI eagerly registered his vitals on the screen.

He did his best to ignore it.

"Positive." He said, sounding more positive than he felt.

"Does Sunny know about this."

"She doesn't have to if we don't tell her." He said wryly knowing that she would find out eventually, and he would get his ass beat. She was the one, in fact, running the weapons systems at this very moment. It was more than likely that she would be the one to initiate the firing sequence for his railgun.

She would be even more mad when she found out she had fired her husband from a cannon without knowing it.

He looked forward to her anger.

Usually her anger led to a fight, and fighting a Drev you were married to usually led to..... other less unpleasant things.

"Fire when ready." He commanded before his chest could constrict around the words.

Nairobi remained silent, but he felt the suit whirr as temperature regulation kicked into overdrive. The ship rocked again with a distant rattle which rolled up through his spine and into his bones. His body vibrated with the intensity of the hit on their distant shields, and melded into the vibration of the slowly charging gun. At first it started with a distinct rattle, and then sped up to the point where he felt his insides would liquify.

His stomach churning and his chest tightening.

This was it.

A shock of fear thrilled through his body.

Was he really doing this?

His heart skipped a beat as doubts began to creep into his head. What was he doing? This wasn't a game, this was war? He could actually die. It wouldn't even be that difficult. It would just take one long move.

Burning metal began to heat up around him glowing a dull red.

Despite the cooling system in the suit, he could feel the heat.

But here he was stuck inside a metal tuna can, unable to do jack all. His stomach churned again.

Don't throw up. He repeated over and over inside his head.

There wasn't nearly enough room in his visor for that.

If he threw up.... Well, he would likely drown in the worst way possible.

"Countdown in."

"WAIT."

There was a pause, "Do you want us to get you out."

"No!" He said stubbornly, "Just don't do a damn countdown."

There was a pause, and he could almost feel Narobi's eyes rolling in her head.

"Very well then."

Silence followed and as the moment approached his stomach dropped into his feet, his chest tightened, and his fingers clenched hard.

"Fire."

And then the world imploded.

His stomach shot into his brain; his eyes rolled in their sockets as an absolutely tremendous force shot him forward. The sheer force was breathtakingly mind numbingly incomprehensible, a feeling that the human body never should experience. For a brief moment his brain was able to articulate the thankfulness that he was a pilot, and that his body's natural response to stress was to clamp all of his rephases shut instead of opening them.

Otherwise he was almost certain he would have shit himself.

Peeing himself he could live with .

He had only seconds to take in the world around him.

The glowing nexus of the shield before him, which shorted out briefly as he shot through, allowing him to pass.

This brief opening allowed one piece of ordinance to get through impacting one of the Omen's lower decks, though its thick skin held. Debris roiled and roared around him as he shot through space like a comet. Before him a grid of hexagons , like a honeycomb surrounded the smaller, angrier ship, like a frightened bee.

Some of the hexagons were already beginning to short out.

But the hexagon he was aiming for.

Had not.

For a horrible moment his death flashed before his eyes, and then a piece of ordnance shot right before him detonated, and the hexagon shimmered and faltered . he shot through the opening in complete silence, his own breathing, the only sound within the midst of chaos, despite the war raging outside.

Space.

A silent battlefield.

And the ship was approaching, no less than maybe a second or so after he had been fired.

The little silver window blossomed in his vision, growing larger and larger. The legs of his suit were locked together pointed and poised ready to send out an additional pulse at the frequency of the glass just in case his weight wasn't enough to shatter it.

The window loomed large.

He shouldn't have worried.

He blasted through the window in an absolute eruption of glass, and an impact that jarred his Anima from his body. Splinters of crystal erupted around him as he flew across the room, slamming into the bulkhead and tearing through the metal like a cannonball rending steel from steel, popping rivets and breaking fasteners.

Sound came back to him, and air squealed as pressure was vented sharply into space.

He felt the pull, but before the room could vent completely, steel plating slammed down to seal the bulkhead once again.

He finally came skidding to a complete halt in the midst of debris and twisted metal.

He did not stand up, unsure if he could.

Surprised that he was alive.

Waiting for the pain to come.

And it did, for sure, a deep aching in his human foot that radiated up into his shin.

But it wasn't debilitating.

Inside the armor, the voiceless AI was thrumming with glee as it ran a systems diagnostic inside his helmet. Everything was mostly in tact, though his right gravity boot was disabled.

That was fine enough, he didn't plan on using the jetpack so the point was completely moot.

He shook glass and splinters from his woozy body.

He may have been phusically fine, but his innards hadn't exactly caught up with the rest of him.

His inner ears were still spinning, and his stomach had up and quit on him.

Again he was ever thankful for his strong control over his own colon.

Now that his feet were planted firmly on the ground he looked around, taking in the situation from the inside of his suit. The AI eagerly lit up important information for him, tactical and mechanical in nature, lighting up a good path for him to take.

It was a helpful creature the SE armor.

Or

Fealty.

It was too..... real for him not to name it.

Fealty lit up his pathway out of the room, as sirens overhead blinked and flashed red with the sound of a hull breach warning.

No air was venting, and no one had been hurt, but they had been fired upon.

Overhead he heard Koslov's voice echoing through the halls.

They had no idea what was coming for them.

Adam stepped forward to the doors which had immediately sealed when the hull was breached.

He allowed Fealty to take a look at the doors and plot his best course of action.

He sort of expected the Ai to urge him to hack the door's code, and he was almost sure it could have, but it seemed more than a little bit eager to watch him rip the doors open with his bare hands. Adam frowned, not entirely sure the AI was offering the most tactically sound advise, but then decided it didn't matter.

Err on the side of Awesome he always said.

And then reached out ramming his fingers into the metal, punching through the outer layer and causing metal to scream as he gained purchase and pulled. The door resisted or only a moment before completely collapsing as the mechanism gave way.

He wrenched the doors open into the nearby hallway, to the absolute terror of a young munitions officer who had been racing down the hall.

He stopped in his tracks facing off against the young man as slow horror dawned on his face.

He watched the boy's eyes sweep from his massive feet, all the way up to his two meter height, dwarfing the young man by over a foot in height, and a chest measurement almost twice as wide.

He could see the terror and awe on the young man's face as he took a slow stem into the hallway, the door behind him shedding sparks.

He quickly walked the last few feet and stopped before the boy looking down at him through his green visor.

The AI was disappointed when the young man offered no resistance.

Adam, with some measure of humor, used his massive gauntlet to gently pat the boy on the head before continuing on down the hall.

He was met with similar reactions on his way up to the bridge.

Most of the crew here had not expected a boarding party, as those were extremely uncommon in space warfare, despite what movies would have you believe, and so none of them offered resistance as he walked past them, smart enough to know that they were in no position to fight.

What was the point in dying for nothing>?

Adam for his part let them be.

He didn't want to hurt anyone .

That was the whole point of this exercise.

Don't

Hurt

Anyone.

He met his first and only resistance as he walked up the last hallway, confronted by a group of marines with wide eyes and shaking rigger fingers.

There was a sharp crack as one of those nervous young men and women let off a shot.

It pinged off his helmet and ricocheted down the hallway. The armor was unphased.

He hadn't even felt the vibration.

But he paused, taking a moment to turn his head slowly to the man who had done it, who was now wide eyed and panicked his gun trembling so badly he couldn't have hit the broad side of Jupiter if he stood on Europa.

Adam stared at him for a long moment, pleased when the group of marines set down their weapons and backed away, smart enough to know they were outmatched, which usually wasn't a response you tended to get from marines of any kind.

Adam ignored them as he walked past forcing his way up and onto the bridge his boots clomping against the metal of the command deck as he stepped into the room.

At first no one noticed him.

Before him, Admiral Koslov was barking orders, and muttering to himself, "What is that bastard doing? He sits there like sitting duck, and fires one shot only? Makes no sense."

In the heat of the moment his accent was thick.

Adam waited politely .

All around him the crew fluttered like so many nervous bees.

"Hail Admiral Vir again." Koslov ordered, "I don't trust this."

"Sweet of you to still call me admiral."

Koslov was so startled he actually felt out of his chair. Adam was a little surprised as well, considering that his voice, inside the metallic hum of the machine sounded deeper, more menacing.

Koslov scrambled to right himself and turned, nearly tripping up against the rail.

His uniform was pristine, and bright, freshly pressed.

But the man himself looked older.

Koslov was not not handsome, but he had a severe seriousness about him that was characteristic of his ancestry, a people who thrived in cold inhospitable climates, and suffered under the regime of many corrupt men, a people whose philosophy valued the ability to suffer quietly with a bottle in one hand and a book of poetry in the other. A people who valued the inherent beauty of sadness and despair.

"A-admiral Vir." He stammered

"Good guess."

He turned his face towards the forward viewing screen and then towards the breach warning on his station, "that was you?"

Adam nodded.

"You fired yourself from a.... from a railgun." The incredulity on his face was almost flattering.

Adam shrugged, "I didn't thin there was another way for you to meet me in person." He stepped forward and Koslov didn't move back keeping his dignity and composure. But at the same time the look on his face seemed to be one of calm sureness.

They both knew that Adam wouldn't hurt him.

"I want you to know that I don't want to hurt you or your crew, we are on the same side. I did this because I want you to know that I have all the power in the universe to stop you. I could fire Celzex weapons at your ship, I could turn you into a singularity, and barring that I could simply snap your neck with my bare hands.

Silence hung around the room, "but I'm not going to do that."

He paused but Koslov said nothing.

"I am not going to hurt you because we are on the same side. I want the same things you do, I am still loyal to Earth, to the UNSC to the UN to the GA. Everything I am doing now is to PROTECT them to protect everyone that I love, and I need you to see that."

Koslov mulled the words over in his head for a long time before responding, "I believe that is what you believe."

"Come on Koslov, You know I wouldn't do something like this if I wasn't absolutely sure. We both know I'm not smart enough to read into things."

He worked his jaw.

"I believe you but I.... you understand that I cannot agree with you."

Adam sighed, "I know, which is why I am taking over your ship."

Koslov looked almost surprised as Adam turned to the rest of the room, "No one will be harmed, those of you who wished to be dropped off back at an installation will be allowed to do so, but.... If there are those of you who have any belief in me, any suspicion about Admiral Kelly's death, I urge you to follow me, and together we can stop what is to come. I will let you think on it."

He walked forward and took a seat in the captain's chair which grained dangerously under his weight, "Omen this is Frost, I have taken the bridge, all Fleet vehicles are ordered to stand down, or be destroyed."

It didn't take much convincing.

And Captain Koslov was taken to the brig as the rest of his crew looked on in silence.

Adam hated to do it but it must be done.

It was an almost even split on Koslov's crew of those who wished to stay and those who wished to leave.

And true to his word he dropped them off at the next station.

Even so, enough unsure crewmembers were left behind, and he sent some of his own crew over to mingle with theirs in order to keep an eye on them.

Stepping back into the cargo bay of his own ship, he met Simon and the other officers who waited for him.

He smiled at Simon as he saw her, resting a hand on her shoulder, helmet tucked under one arm,

"Simon, how do you feel about a promotion."

She frowned, "Promotion."

He grinned wider, "Well someone has to Captain Koslov's ship."

They all laughed at her stunned reaction, nd then at her excitement.

He smiled to himself.

Yes, having his own fleet was going to be a great advantage in the coming war.