The recycled air of the UNSC Everest's mess hall usually carried the drone of low conversations and the clatter of cutlery, but for Wraith's ODST squad, it was a rare pocket of quiet. Several weeks had passed since the Prelate assassination and its harrowing extraction, and the initial surge of adrenaline had given way to a persistent, simmering distrust. They ate in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, occasionally exchanging a glance that spoke volumes about shared near-death experiences.

"Another MRE, Shadow?" Viper drawled, pushing a dehydrated meal packet across the table. "Thought you'd have cracked the recipe for real food by now, given your data-mining habits."

Shadow merely grunted, scanning the nutritional label. "Efficiency over flavor. Besides, real food comes with real risks." The unspoken subtext hung in the air: unlike intel from ONI.

Wraith watched them, a small, weary smile playing on his lips. They were a tighter unit than ever, their unspoken language honed by fire. The near-miss on the last mission had forged them further, but also left a scar of suspicion that ran deep.

The approach of Commander Vance, their direct liaison to ONI, interrupted their moment of quiet camaraderie. Vance was all crisp uniform and strained politeness, a man who always seemed to be walking on eggshells around the Helljumpers.

"Lieutenant Kogen," Vance began, his voice a touch too loud in the low hum of the mess hall. "Gentlemen and lady. A moment of your time."

Wraith exchanged a look with Shadow, who merely inclined his head and shut his eyes. Here we go.

"We've received a requisition for an additional asset for your team," Vance continued, oblivious to the subtle tension. "Standard procedure, given recent attrition rates in high-risk zones. You'll be taking on a new operative. Designation: Rook."

Viper's fork clattered softly against her tray. "A new recruit, Commander? Now?"

"He's not a recruit in the greenest sense, Viper," Vance said, a faint attempt at a reassuring smile. "ODST veteran. Excellent combat record. Highly adaptable. He's been deployed in isolated operations for the past cycle. Excellent fit for deep-strike teams."

As if on cue, a figure stepped out from behind Vance. Tall, even for an ODST, clad in a fresh, unmarred set of specialized black armor, still gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The helmet was standard, but the visor, unlike their usual reflective gold or smoky grey, was a dull, flat black, giving no hint of the eyes behind it.

"This is ODST Rook," Vance announced, a hand gesturing to the newcomer. "Rook, this is Lieutenant Kogen. Designation Warith, and his team: Shadow, Ghost, and Viper."

Rook offered a brief nod. No handshake, no spoken greeting. Just a quiet, assessing gaze that seemed to linger on each of them for a fraction longer than necessary. His posture was relaxed, yet every line of his body spoke of coiled energy. He felt. . . different. Not fresh-faced eager, nor battle-hardened weary in the way they were. More like a piece of finely tuned machinery.

Wraith felt the familiar ODST scrutiny begin. Rook's armor wasn't scuffed, but there were subtle, almost invisible patches where repairs had clearly been made, indicating experience. His movements were fluid, not stiff, suggesting confidence.

"Welcome to the team, Rook," Wraith said, his voice neutral. "Have a seat. We're just finishing up."

Rook didn't move immediately to grab a tray. His black visor slowly traversed the room, taking in the sparse occupants, the subtle camera placements, the faint hum of the ship's systems. It was a thorough, almost clinical assessment. Then, with another silent nod, he moved to an empty seat at their table, pulling it out without a sound, and sat.

Viper, ever the most outwardly skeptical, cleared her throat. "So, 'isolated operations,' huh, Rook? You been chasing ghosts in the outer rim?" The question was a probing jab, a test of his new teammate's composure and background.

Rook's helmet remained perfectly still. Then, a low, even voice emanated from his comm unit, filtered and devoid of any discernible accent. "Something like that. Operations requiring minimal footprint. Deep infiltration. Long-term surveillance."

Ghost, whose own specialty revolved around vanishing, narrowed his eyes. He recognized the specific vocabulary. "ONI Section Three ops, then," he stated, not a question.

Rook's black visor remained impassive. "Designated classified."

A collective, internal sigh passed through the team. Classified. The all-encompassing word that conveniently hid ONI's dubious dealings. Their trust in outside intel, already thin, now faced the ultimate test. Was Rook simply another highly skilled operative, or was he ONI's new set of eyes and ears, placed to ensure their "compliance" after the last mission's close call?

Wraith knew the true assessment of Rook wouldn't happen in the mess hall. It would happen in the field, when the plasma flew, and lives depended on split-second decisions. The last mission had taught them to trust only their own. Now, they had to decide if Rook was worthy of that hard-won, fiercely guarded trust. The shadow of Onyx still loomed, and the introduction of a new, classified teammate felt like another roll of ONI's loaded dice.

There was one way to test the waters, Wraith thought, and he knew just the place to do so.

_______

The hum of the Pelican shifted from the deep thrum of interstellar travel to the softer, more focused whine of atmospheric entry. Below them, the sprawling, metallic landscape of a UNSC training facility materialized, a stark grid of landing pads and modular buildings. For the ODST team—Wraith, Shadow, Ghost, and Viper—it was a familiar sight, albeit one tinged with a fresh layer of caution. Today wasn't just about training; it was about assessing "Rook."

The new teammate sat silently across from them, his dark visor reflecting the muted cabin lights. He hadn't spoken much since the mess hall, his presence a quiet, almost unsettling, constant.

"Alright, Rook," Viper finally broke the silence, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. "Sim-training. Expect everything. Expect nothing. The AI's a real bastard sometimes."

Rook gave a short, almost imperceptible nod. "Understood." His voice, though still filtered through his comms, held a flat, detached quality.

They disembarked into the cool, sterile air of the facility's hangar. Commander Vance was already there, a forced smile on his face. "Lieutenant Kogen, team. Welcome. Your simulation is ready. Standard urban infiltration, high-threat extraction. We've thrown in a few curveballs." His gaze lingered on Rook for a moment too long before shifting back to Wraith. "See how the new dynamics work out."

Wraith merely nodded, the subtext of Vance's words clear: See how your new ONI babysitter performs.

Inside the simulation chamber, the familiar scent of ozone and recycled air filled their helmets. The environment materialized around them: a hyper-realistic, rain-slicked city block, eerily similar to their last operational zone. Buildings crumbled, smoke drifted lazily from unseen fires, and the ominous glow of distant Covenant energy shields pulsed in the simulated gloom.

"Scenario: Hostage extraction," the simulation AI droned, its voice devoid of emotion. "Civilians held in central building. Heavy Covenant presence. Eliminate hostiles, secure asset, exfil via designated LZ. Begin."

Wraith led the initial breach, moving with practiced stealth. Ghost melted into the urban decay, his movement fluid. Almost imperceptible. Shadow immediately began sweeping for hostiles, his passive sensors painting a real-time picture of enemy positions. Viper found a sniper perch, her optics locking onto a distant Grunt patrol.

Rook, however, didn't immediately slot into their established rhythm.

He hung back, observing for a beat, his black visor inscrutable. Then, without a word, he took point, not with aggressive haste, but with a deliberate, almost preternatural calm. He flowed through the environment, his footsteps quieter than Ghost's, his presence almost impossible to track, even for them.

A skirmish erupted. A patrol of Elites, unexpectedly close, rounded a corner. Viper's first shot took down one, but the others reacted swiftly, shields flaring. Ghost was already laying down suppressive fire with his SMG, drawing their attention. Shadow moved to flank, a frag grenade arcing through the air.

Rook, meanwhile, had already repositioned. His movements were not reactive, but anticipatory. He wasn't just engaging the threats in front of him; he was moving to cut off their escape, to isolate them, almost as if he knew their next move before they made it. His suppressed rifle fired with chilling precision, each shot finding a vital point, dropping Covenant combatants with unnerving efficiency. He wasn't just fighting; he was orchestrating.

Mid-simulation, a "curveball" hit. The AI declared a "hostile air insertion," and a phantom materialized overhead, disgorging a wave of Brutes directly onto their objective building. It was a replay of their last mission's terrifying extraction.

Viper swore. "They're trying to break our formation!"

"Hold your lines! Shadow, prep explosives for the building collapse if we need it!" Wraith barked, his mind racing, trying to adapt to the overwhelming odds.

But Rook wasn't reacting in a defensive posture. He sprinted, a blur of dark armor, directly towards the dropship's landing zone. Before Wraith could even question the move, Rook activated something on his gauntlet. A high-pitched whine filled the air, followed by a localized burst of electromagnetic energy. The phantom stuttered, its engines sputtering, momentarily frozen in mid-air before its systems rebooted. It wasn't a permanent disability, but it bought them precious seconds.

During that momentary paralysis, Rook didn't wait. He clambered onto the side of the compromised dropship, still spewing Brutes, and manually detached an external fuel line. He then launched himself off the phantom, landing in a combat roll just as the dropship, now leaking volatile fuel, banked sharply and crashed into a distant, empty building.

The simulation ended abruptly. "Simulation complete. Assets secured. Hostiles neutralized. Evaluation: Exceptional."

The light flickered back on, revealing the team standing amidst the simulation wreckage. Wraith looked at Rook, who stood perfectly still, his visor still dark.

"What was that, Rook?" Viper asked, her voice a mix of awe and suspicion. "That EMP burst? That wasn't standard ODST gear."

"Experimental ONI prototype," Rook's voice replied evenly. "Designed for localized energy suppression. I was testing its combat efficacy."

Shadow crossed his arms. "ONI tech, huh? Commander Vance didn't mention it."

"ONI doesn't always disclose every tool at their disposal," Rook stated, the implied meaning hanging in the air: especially not to you.

Wraith felt a complex mix of admiration and heightened suspicion. Rook was undeniably skilled, a force multiplier unlike any they'd encountered. His tactical awareness was phenomenal, his execution flawless. But that detached efficiency, the classified tech, and his undeniable connection to ONI's deeper layers—it all fed the lingering distrust from their last mission.

"You performed admirably, Rook," Wraith said, his tone deliberately neutral. "Your methods are. . . unconventional."

"Effective," Rook countered, his black visor still giving nothing away.

Ghost, who had been silent through most of the exchange, finally spoke. "His threat assessment and predictive analysis are superior to current UNSC tactical AIs. His energy signature remained almost completely masked throughout the simulation. It's. . . unsettling."

Viper grimaced. "Unsettling is right. So, what, he's a ghost's ghost now? An ONI ghost?"

Wraith knew that Rook's performance had saved them in the simulation, just as he likely could have saved them in the real engagement on Onyx. But the question remained: Was he an asset for them, or an asset watching them? The team had gained an immensely capable member, but at what cost to their already fragile trust in the shadows they fought within? The answer, Wraith knew, would only come with time, and perhaps with another mission that tested more than just their combat skills.