Kitsune Travel Record's

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POV :????

'Where am I' I tried to speak and open my eyes, but darkness enveloped me. Then, light flooded my vision, revealing a towering female human in a lab coat. She started walking toward a high-tech computer. I attempted to open my mouth, but I couldn't move; I couldn't feel my body. Then, I heard a voice emanating from my location,

"Quando il gioco è finito, il re e il pedone vanno nella stessa scatola"

"When the game is over, the king and the pawn go in the same box"

As the female replied, her lips curving into a smile.

"Hello, I'm artificial intelligence CTN 0452-9 at your service,"

a voice announced as my body bowed involuntarily. The only thing I could do was watch. I heard the woman in the lab coat speak as she scrutinized something on her computer.

"I know. After all, you are my creation," she said.

"And you are Dr. Catherine Halsey," the voice declared.

"It's good that you know," Dr. Halsey replied, turning her head to look at me. Straightening her posture.

"You will be named Cortana from now on."

As the voice, emanating from my body or Cortana's body, spoke, I realized this might be her experience, her memories, or perhaps AI data. Stop struggling to regain control, I simply listened and observed.

"Like the sword?" Cortana's voice inquired, laced with curiosity.

"Yes, you will be our sword. Use that to kill our enemies."

"The Covenant," Cortana stated, her gaze fixed on Catherine Halsey.

Halsey affirmed her question with a nod.

"Then this is my wielder?" Cortana asked, her eyes shifting toward the figure lying on the table in Spartan armor.

"That was the plan," Dr. Halsey replied before shaking her head.

"I allow you access to the internet and USNC files," she said, her eyes never leaving the computer screen as she continued typing.

Noticing Cortana's body move, I focused on her rising hand and heard her voice again.

"No need. I can do it myself," she asserted, hacking into everything available. Despite her innocence—she was, after all, a newly created being—she displayed a sense of pride and a desire to prove her worth. I looked at Dr. Halsey, whose shock morphed into a serious expression and then settled into a blank stare.

My focus was shattered by a torrent of information. It was like I, the one experiencing this, was doing what Cortana was doing. Massive amounts of data flooded my mind or spirit, and I thought to myself, 'F*ck, my own memories are not even close to remembering everything about this.' But then I realized I could still recall every single word, every number, every piece of information I had received, or, more accurately, Cortana's memories.

It was both fast and slow for me. As I continued to absorb information, my connection to Cortana grew stronger. I began to feel the movements of her digital body and started to synchronize with her feelings. Then I heard her voice again.

"So, the Covenant discovered another weapon they're moving, and we don't have any information about it. It will take time for them to figure out how to use it, but we can't stop them because we don't know where their home planet is. You guys want to find another weapon based on the clues John-117 found,"

she declared, observing Dr. Halsey.

"Yes,"

Dr. Halsey confirmed, settling into a chair before the computer, intent on finding something. As I continued to merge with Cortana's memories, becoming more and more one with them or, perhaps, one with the data, I continued to feel her body's digital movements and her voice as if I were the one speaking. The memories and I were becoming one.

"So, you guys needed me to help control every Spartan. Rather than only one, it's more efficient, and finding the weapon would be faster,"

we said. Dr. Halsey turned her head to me, her expression serious.

"No," she stated, her voice firm.

"You are simply to monitor and assist them if they need it. I and the USNC are the ones controlling them."

She tried to correct my statement. As I synced with the memories, I let the flow carry me, as if they were my own, and me being Cortana

I watched her eyes intently until she turned back to the computer, searching for something. I already knew what she was looking for, and I had already deleted it. Just as I was about to speak, a knock echoed from the door, and it slid open.

An officer entered, saying "Is it ready?"

Dr. Halsey didn't respond, she remained focused on the computer. I decided to answer for her, making my presence known.

"Hello, Colonel James Ackerson. Dr. Halsey is busy at the moment," I said, a smile playing on my lips as I bowed my head slightly.

The Colonel simply looked at me and repeated,

"Halsey!"

Dr. Halsey lifted her head from the computer and glanced at him.

"Wait a moment. I'm finding something,"

she said, her voice growing more and more strained as she failed to find what she was looking for. I felt a strange sense of happiness, almost a thrill at her frustration.

"There's no more time. They're already here. They need to see its performance,"

the Colonel said, his voice urgent.

"Tsk," Dr. Halsey clicked her tongue, her annoyance evident. She couldn't find what she was searching for. She stood up and took a step forward, getting closer to my core, her gaze fixed on me. Before she could take me, I interrupted the Colonel.

"Yes, I'm ready, and my name is Cortana, not 'It,'" I declared, before disappearing into my core, waiting for Dr. Halsey to pick me up.

When I heard the Colonel's voice from outside my core,

"You can control this thing, right?" I didn't hear Dr. Halsey answer. I heard footsteps. I assumed it was Dr. Halsey leaving, but then I heard her whisper,

"Behave yourself."

I made my core flicker to affirm her.

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USNC/HQ/Command center

With the memories making me sync with Cortana When I gotten out of my core as my Digital body materialize I was at a octagon table at the center of the room

"This thing can help us control those mutant soldiers?"

The human female voice rang out.

I turned my head, meeting her gaze. While hacking the command center and acquiring her information, I noticed all the humans around the table were high-ranking members of the USNC.

I extended a polite greeting,

"Hello, I am Cortana, an artificial intelligence. I am ready to assist."

Their attention snapped to me. Gasps, sighs, and expressions of disbelief filled the room.

Dr. Halsey, her gaze focused on me, then sweeping over the high-ranking members, began to explain.

"There are no mutants. These are soldiers, called Spartans. And yes, Cortana will demonstrate. She will connect to Master Chief's armor, monitor him, and take control if necessary."

"And who is this Master Chief?" a male high-ranking officer inquired.

The Colonel stepped forward, introducing Master Chief,

"Codename John-117. The leader of the Spartans, and the best of them all."

The assistant of the high-ranking officer leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. The officer nodded in understanding.

The Colonel and Dr. Halsey locked eyes. Dr. Halsey outlined the upcoming scenario,

"Master Chief will first fight other Spartans without Cortana's help, but she will monitor them."

She turned to me, "Cortana."

I received her command and began the demonstration. My data-like holographic hand rose, reaching for the largest screen in the command center. I hacked into it, linking to Master Chief's armor, and then vanished from the octagon table. The screen shifted, showing what Master Chief saw through his armor. Then, I materialized in front of him, larger than before, a beautiful, blue, human-sized female figure.

Trial Grounds

Master Chief's armor muscles tensed at my sudden appearance.

"Hello, John," I greeted him with a smile.

"My name is Cortana, an AI. I will be accompanying you during this trial."

Master Chief relaxed slightly.

"So, you're the robot they've been talking about. I understand the mission, but don't even think about controlling my movements or my thoughts."

"I understand," I said, still smiling,

"though I will inform you that I may need to take control of your armor if necessary."

I knew controlling someone's actions without their consent was not ideal.

"And John, I can't control your thoughts."

Master Chief clicked his tongue,

then reported to HQ,

"Master Chief to the command center, reporting ready to start the mission."

I gazed into the mirror on his helmet, knowing they could see me through the connection to HQ.

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Back At HQ commandcenter

The female high-ranking officer, studying the Spartan's actions, remarked,

"Looking at him, I wouldn't have thought he still possessed emotions."

She fixed her gaze on Dr. Halsey, her expression silently questioning,

"Aren't all Spartans emotionless?" The other high-ranking officers followed her lead, eyes trained on Halsey, anticipating her response.

Halsey, however, remained focused on the screen, not even bothering to acknowledge their curiosity.

"No emotions," she said,

"Doesn't mean no opinions."

Her attention shifted to the screen as she spoke.

"John, can you hear me?"

Cortana's core, still connected to the network, picked up her words, allowing her to relay them to Master Chief.

The Master Chief's voice echoed through the command center.

"Dr. Halsey, I hear you. I'm ready to start the mission."

"John," Halsey explained,

"Cortana will just monitor you this time, recording this trial. Just relax and do what you need to do." She wanted John to perform at his best, so she reassured him.

"Affirmative," Master Chief replied.

Dr. Halsey pressed a button on the octagonal table, initiating a countdown that appeared both on the screen and in the Spartans' helmets.

"Cortana, monitor the other Spartans," she instructed.

The command center screens changed, revealing the forest landscape from the perspective of the ten Spartans' armor. They were hidden among the trees, waiting to ambush Master Chief.

The one-minute countdown ticked down to ten seconds, creating a palpable tension.

3, 2, 1, GO!

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Trial Grounds

With that Master Chief started to run to woods while Cortana Dissapeared from his helmet vision like dust.

Dust motes danced in the sunbeams slicing through the dense forest canopy. Master Chief moved forward, his boots crunching on the dry undergrowth, the scent of pine and damp earth filling his nostrils.

He knew the ambush was coming but He still pressed on.

The ambush exploded. A hail of bullets ripped through the air, the sharp crack of MA5Ds echoing through the trees. The Chief reacted instantly, rolling to avoid a direct hit, his own weapon already spitting a controlled burst. The air filled with the smell of cordite and the metallic sound of the bullets hitting. He was surrounded, but not trapped.

He moved with terrifying speed and precision, a blur of motion amidst the chaos. He used trees for cover, ducking behind thick trunks, using the undergrowth as camouflage. His movements were economical, each action calculated to maximize effect.

Spartan-032 felt the impact of a bullet grazing his armor. His shields flickered, the HUD displaying critical damage. The data stream was overwhelming – a chaotic torrent of information. His own shots were less precise, his movements hampered by the Chief's relentless assault. His systems registered the superior combat efficiency; a purely analytical assessment of overwhelming force.

Spartan-087, pinned down behind a fallen log, watched as the Chief effortlessly dispatched two Spartans with a swift combination of gunfire and brutal close-quarters combat. The Chief's movements were a terrifying display of speed and precision. His systems registered the superior tactical awareness; a purely analytical assessment of overwhelming strategy.

From his vantage point, Spartan-104 witnessed the Chief's brutal efficiency. He saw the calculated precision of each shot, the unwavering focus in his movements. The data painted a grim picture: his chances of survival were rapidly diminishing. His systems registered the superior physical capabilities; a purely analytical assessment of overwhelming power.

Spartan-051, caught in a crossfire, felt the pressure of the Chief's relentless assault. His armor's energy shields were failing, the screen displaying a critical power drain. He was forced to retreat, his movements clumsy and inefficient. The data was clear: he was losing. His systems registered the superior combat prowess; a purely analytical assessment of overwhelming skill.

The Chief pressed his advantage, moving from cover to cover, his MA5D spitting death. He engaged in brutal close-quarters combat, his combat knife flashing like silver lightning. He disarmed one Spartan with a swift kick, the weapon clattering to the ground. He used the environment to his advantage, turning the forest itself into a weapon. He was a force of nature, a predator in his own element.

Each Spartan fought with cold, calculated precision, their training kicking in, but the Chief's superior skill and tactical awareness were undeniable. They were forced to react, to adapt, to survive.The data was clear: they were fighting a legend. The Spartans felt no fear, only the cold, hard assessment of their own inadequacy against a force of overwhelming power and skill. The Chief was not just an opponent; he was a phenomenon, a testament to the apex of human potential. The forest floor, once dry and brittle, was now stained crimson. The data logged the outcome overwhelming defeat.

Cortana appeared, her voice tinged with approval,

"Good job, John." She glanced at the defeated Spartan.

Master Chief nodded in acknowledgment.

"Mission complete,"

Master Chief reported to HQ.

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HQ Command center

The HQ command center erupted in applause and cheers. The trial had concluded in a mere ten minutes, leaving soldiers in awe. They paused their work, saluting both the Master Chief's impressive performance and the successful mission. Even the high-ranking officers, though reluctant to admit it, were astounded.

"Good job, John," the Colonel said, a smile spreading across his face as he observed the screen.

"Now, rest up. We'll start again in ten minutes."

"Roger that, sir" Master Chief responded.

The Colonel turned to a soldier beside him,

"Get them out of there and tell the others to prepare."

The soldier saluted and departed.

A female high-ranking officer approached Dr. Halsey,

"Do we still need Cortana to control Master Chief's armor? It seems your Spartans can manage without her."

Dr. Halsey maintained a confident smile,

"You're right. That's why Cortana will control the other ten Spartans." She then addressed John,

"Are you ready, John?"

"Yes, ma'am," John responded.

"Cortana, start," Dr. Halsey instructed. The screen shifted, revealing the ten new Spartans.

"Do you know what to do? Don't resist."

"Yes, sir," the Spartans responded in unison, their minds torn on not wanting to be controlled and to follow the command.

They knew they had no choice

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Trial Grounds

Cortana materialized within their field of vision.

"Sorry," she said, "I'll make this quick."

The ten Spartans remained silent. Cortana understood their reluctance; taking control of someone's body was undeniably intrusive.

The ten Spartans sprinted towards Master Chief's location.

In a dense forest, complete with the sounds of rustling leaves and the scent of pine. Ten Spartans, their armor gleaming under the artificial sunlight, stood poised, their assault rifles raised. At the center stood Master Chief, his posture relaxed but alert. This wasn't a battle; it was a carefully orchestrated exercise designed by Cortana to make him lose and lose fast.

Cortana initiated the sequence.

The Spartans opened fire, a coordinated barrage that seemed to defy individual agency. The air filled with the sharp crack of gunfire and the whine of ricocheting rounds. The Chief reacted instantly, diving for cover behind a simulated rock formation. But the Spartans' fire was relentless, a storm of bullets that forced him to move constantly.

He returned fire, his shots precise and deadly, but the sheer volume of fire from ten Spartans overwhelmed him. Cortana had predicted his every move, anticipating his cover and adjusting the Spartans' positions to maintain a constant barrage. He was forced to retreat, his movements becoming increasingly frantic.

Spartan-032, utilizing superior positioning, unleashed a burst that grazed the Chief's armor, forcing him to seek additional cover. Before he could recover, Spartan-087, using the simulated undergrowth for concealment, unleashed a precise shot that struck the Chief's shield, causing it to flicker.

The Spartans continued their assault, maintaining a constant, coordinated barrage of fire. Cortana's algorithms constantly adjusted their positions, ensuring that the Chief had no respite. He was forced to move constantly, his movements becoming increasingly erratic, his shots less accurate. He tried to use the simulated terrain to his advantage, but the Spartans' superior positioning and coordination negated his efforts.

Spartan-104, using a simulated tree trunk for cover, unleashed a burst that struck the Chief's shield, causing it to overload. Spartan-051, anticipating the Chief's attempt to reposition, unleashed a precise shot that struck his shoulder, forcing him to stumble.

The Chief, though a master of combat, was overwhelmed. He was forced to fight defensively, his attempts to counterattack constantly thwarted by the coordinated barrage. He was outmatched, not by individual skill, but by the sheer volume and precision of the coordinated attack. He was losing ground, his movements becoming increasingly desperate.

Finally, a perfectly timed burst from Spartan-062 struck the Chief's shield, causing it to fail completely. Another burst from Spartan-091 struck his leg, forcing him to the ground. The remaining Spartans continued their fire, forcing him to surrender.

Cortana had achieved her objective. The Chief had lost, not through a single decisive blow, but through the relentless, perfectly coordinated assault of ten Spartans, their movements orchestrated by Cortana's tactical genius. The exercise was over. The Chief was down, not from a lack of skill, but from the sheer overwhelming force of coordinated firepower.

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