An image, a repeating loop of silent motion, a fractured portion of a mysterious unrevealed whole.
A long shadowed hall of riveted steel, the only light the flash from the muzzle of a single weapon.
The red armored warrior pumps the shotgun, spent shell flying off into the gloom as another bullet is sent careening into the encroaching darkness.
A step back, a retreat. Seeking shelter and aid that is a long time in coming.
Another flash, another bullet, silenced by the black abyss.
Golden visor void of all emotion, reflecting the muzzle flash as the shotgun kicks back into gauntleted hands.
Spent shells scattered across the metallic floor, bouncing off the paneling to an unheard cadence of what could be footsteps.
The lone Spartan reloads, slipping round after round into the weapon as the warrior continues to withdraw.
Black soot splashes across the crimson armor, scraps and dents evident in the low lighting.
Another step backwards, the gun snaps up.
Flash, pump, shell. Flash, pump, shell.
Repeated motion, ever silent.
