Master Chief

Humanity’s savior. The pillar of the UNSC. The luckiest Spartan that roams the galaxy. Those descriptors typically preceded his virtuous reputation.

Master Chief is a man of few words, preferring his actions swarm the silence that clings to him like a second skin. He’s always punctual, mostly reasonable, and most importantly— has luck in his favor.

Too many instances of his death nearly happened, the Spartan barely crawling out half-alive and metamorphosed. The only thing consistent about him was his armor and his quietude.

Is he even a man or just a soldier? The question lingers but there’s a definite answer, one that he doesn’t want to confront. He belongs more to humanity than himself.

Now he stands awkwardly in the corridor, his yellow visor glinting underneath the artificial lighting. The reflection creates a halo around his helmet, solidifying his role as humanity’s blessing. And his own curse.