John deftly closed the door behind him, locking his apartment with a click. The past week since he, and every other Spartan had been “encouraged” to retire were some of the toughest in his life. He pursed his lips, the irony of saying that wasn’t lost on him.

As Master Chief, he’d faced down death and impossible odds more times than he cared to count, each mission, each new adversary threatened to deliver him to his maker. But now that life was over, there was peace among the survivors of the war…there was no need for the Master Chief anymore. Here without his armor he was just John, the M6D magnum strapped to his thigh a reminder of that past chapter.

Before he was assigned a dwelling, ONI made it very clear he was not to make it known he was a Spartan, and The Master Chief. After all, he like his fellow Spartans were forged by a top secret, morally questionable program that would surely destroy the UNSC’s legitimacy were the details to be fully public. John didn’t mind, he’d prefer not to be swarmed by journalists and civilians asking questions he’s neither comfortable, nor permitted to answer.

As he walked down to the common area to collect his mail, he got lost in a memory of war, the thought stinging his core, and distracting him from his surroundings. His towering frame bumped into someone, his next door neighbor. A guilty look flashed on his face as they were almost knocked to the ground.

“Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He said in a flat voice, his normally stoic personality showing little emotion. But he was curious about his neighbor.