Uncharted | JOHN-117

01

The rhythmic pounding of my shoes against the pavement echoes in my ears as I set out on my morning run around the United Nations Security Council military base. The crisp morning breeze kisses my skin and picks up the odd leaf or two, dancing away in the air at the edge of my vision.

Despite my role as a scientific assistant under my mother, Dr Catherine Halsey, I choose to never neglect my training which consists of weights, cardio and weapon training. It's a routine that keeps me grounded amidst the chaos of my day-to-day life.

Running is my favourite, though. I relish these moments of solitude, where my worries seem to melt away with each steady beat of my footsteps.

As I weave through the maze of hangers and buildings, my gaze flits from one sight to another. Spacecrafts stand sentinel in their bays, while soldiers bustle about, their movements exuding purpose and determination. It's a scene I've grown accustomed to slowly over time, a snapshot of life amid an ongoing war with the Covenant.

Amidst the sea of troops engaging in their morning jog, traversing the opposite way I came, my eyes catch sight of a familiar face. Benjamin Reeves, with his trademark smirk and tousled light brown hair. He stands out like a beacon amongst the uniformed masses and I must stand out to him too, because his gaze snaps to mine.

Without a second thought, he breaks away from the throng with a grin plastered across his face. Hoots and hollers from his comrades follow his retreating form. He doesn't pay much mind to their teasing, moving with casual grace, effortlessly navigating his way over to me until he's jogging by my side.

I raise an eyebrow in amusement. "And what do you want?"

"Good morning to you too, Mak," he greets, his dark brown eyes honing in on me from my right.

My head swivels momentarily to his comrades jogging in the other direction.

"You're going to get in trouble, you know?" I puff out.

"Rules are made to be broken," he replies unconcerned. "Especially for you."

I can't help but roll my eyes at his attempt at a smooth line, though there's a certain warmness in my chest that arises at his flattery. Despite the casual arrangement we have going on, there's a sincerity in his words.

"You're incorrigible, Ben," I tell him, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

"You love it."

"I beg to differ," I protest.

He leans in close, his voice dropping to a low breathy suggestive murmur. "Oh, you do love to beg, don't you?"

I playfully shove him away. "You talk too much," I admonish, hoping the heat starting to rise to my cheeks passes as exertion.

He chuckles, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Ah, but Mak, it's all part of my charm."

I can't help but let out a breathless laugh. "I hate to admit it, but you might have a point," I concede, unable to deny the truth intertwined in his words.

Ben has a knack for pulling people out of their thoughts, drawing them away from the weight of their responsibilities, even if just for a moment. His presence is filled with lightness and joy that's as refreshing as it's rare.

We soon settle into a comfortable pace, our strides synchronising effortlessly as our feet find a steady rhythm. But true to form, Ben can't seem to stay quiet for long.

With a grin, he nudges my arm gently and breaks the silence. "You know, I was just thinking about the time I saved a whole platoon from a rogue Grunt ambush. Have I told you about that one?"