#witchy oni interrogator lady i dunno

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

"Why did you order your Spartans to jump from the Pelican?" the interviewer demanded once again.

Her face was shrouded in darkness. A lamp was pointed directly in his eyes. Fred smirked. Did they really think that conventional interrogation tactics from centuries-old cop procedurals were going to make a Spartan sweat?

"It was the best tactical option." He shook his head once. "No. It was the only tactical option."

The interviewer scoffed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest. She kept doing that. As though she had any idea what it was like to be in the field. Maybe she did. But she didn't know what it was to be a Spartan.

"Don't you feel responsibility for what happened to your team?" she asked harshly.

Externally, Fred remained emotionless. Passive. He was the very picture of the robot super-soldier that the UNSC rank-and-file believed the Spartans to be. Internally, he recoiled.

Did he feel responsible?

He felt nothing else. He saw each of their faces - every Spartan that had died under his command. Malcolm. Joshua. Grace. Anton. Vinh. Isaac. The list went on. It filed through his mind on an endless loop, whenever he had a spare moment to think.

Then there were the others. Gray Team... wherever they were. Omega Team, too. Randall, who'd been lost years ago. Cal, Arthur, Solomon, and Daisy along with him. Kelly.

He wished she were here. She would've been able to put his head back on straight.

Of course, with his track record lately, he could very well have lost her on the Unyielding Hierophant. Maybe it was better that Halsey had absconded with her. He could at least believe that she was still out there. Force himself to believe it. He wouldn't make it much further if he didn't.

"I asked you a question, Spartan One Zero Four." The interviewer's voice was full of venom. She practically spit the words. She was trying to intimidate him.

That must have been a joke.

Fred rose from his seat. Even out of his armor, he towered over everyone in the sealed interrogation room. He reached out with one hand and very deliberately turned the lamp out of his eyes - a challenge to the interviewer. Go ahead and make me sit back down, he thought.

"I made the best decision. Unlike many in this facility, I care deeply about the soldiers under my command and I refused to waste their lives." He didn't say the words so much as growl them. His right hand clenched into a fist so tight that his knuckles turned paper-white.

The interviewer stared up at him. She was trying to put on a tough face, to keep control of the situation. To her credit, she was doing a good job. She almost managed to hide the vein pulsing in her forehead. The ever-so-slight widening of her eyes. The almost imperceptible tremor in her voice when she barked, "Are you implying that HIGHCOM wasted Spartan lives?"

The Spartan managed to choke down the biting laughter that threatened to escape him. Thirty Spartans combined for RED FLAG. For a suicide mission. But here they were, trying to pass the buck for their deaths onto him.

Fred smirked again. "No, Ma'am," he answered, forcing himself to slacken his fist. He looked her dead in the eye. She had blue eyes. Almost as light in color as Kelly's. "To imply would leave some ambiguity. What I am doing is inferring."

The woman's face coiled in disgust. But it was only skin-deep. She didn't have the clearance to know what he was talking about... she was just here to be ONI's voice. To provide them with plausible deniability for the public eye.

She opened her mouth to answer. Then the door burst open to reveal Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood himself. The Admiral's face was red. He was shouting. The interviewer was escorted out by MPs. Fred watched it all from the sidelines.

Kelly would have found the whole situation hilarious.

Then Hood turned to him. "Suit up, Senior Chief. We're sending Blue downstairs - you ready to get back to work?"

Fred nodded, standing at stiff attention. Then he smiled. "Eager, sir."