Emile isn't dead, he just made it appear as though he was dead so that the enemy would take him back to the Covenant base and attempt to reverse engineer his armor in an attempt to find a fatal flaw in the UNSC's technology.
That is when he would strike.
He awoke aboard what seemed to be the interior of a Phantom, no doubt leaving the ruined world of Reach. First he took out the two Elites in the lab he was being kept in. They weren't were researchers, so he took them out easily by tackling the first, breaking its spine, and then pulling the Plasma Pistol it had on it and delivering a charged shot directly to the second Elite's skull, burning through the thick bone and vaporizing the frontal lobes. From there he took a few seconds to gather supplies, a Magnum they had taken off his body and the Energy Sword he had been stabbed with previously. He then made his way through the first corridor leading out of the research wing. He encountered three Grunts and a Jackal. Four bullets, four kills. He quickly located the command deck and blasted his way through the mechanical doors using a Plasma Grenade he had picked off of the previously downed Grunts. He then tossed his remaining two grenades into the room itself, taking the large group of Elites manning the various consoles by surprise. The explosion took out three targets and severely damaged one of the flight control mechanisms. As the Phantom took a sudden dip in altitude, he took the chance to rush over to a Plasma Repeater that one of the Elites had dropped. Picking up, he made short work of five more Elites before he was knocked to the ground by the commander of the vessel. A Zealot. As he recovered from the brutal melee attack, Emile looked up to see the Zealot draw a weapon all too familiar to him. An Energy Sword. The Spartan quickly jumped to his feet and drew his own sword as the Zealot took a step back, shocked though a bit pleased by this new development. The two stared each other down for almost a minute as they sized their equal up. The Zealot was the first to strike. Lunging with his back legs, the Sangheili warrior took off with his blade pointed directly for the Spartan's midsection. Emile rolled to the side and delivered a blow of his own, a powerful kick straight to what he could only assume was the alien's rib cage. The Zealot flinched for but a mere millisecond, but it was enough for Emile to strike. He plunged the blade deeply into creature's back as it released a bloodcurdling scream. He quickly retracted as a bright flash of light indicated that the weapon had met its mark. He had fought these terrifying monsters before, and he knew that what would be a fatal blow for any human man was just a shot in the foot to this xeno-solider. The Zealot quickly got back on it's feet, and instantly it was back on the offense. He took another swing at Emile, but it would not make the same mistake again. As the nimble Spartan slipped pasted the initial assault, the Elite quickly spun around and struck horizontally at his enemy's neck. Emile swiftly used his own sword to block what would have been a fatal blow, locking blades with the Zealot. Once again the two stared each other down. As Emile looked into the pitted eyes of his aggresor he felt as though he shared a moment of understanding with the alien. "What are you fighting for." That is all he could think of as time seemed to slow to a crawl and the battle seemed to become a precursory snapshot of the galactic struggle about to ensue. Emile said aloud, "Good point," before pulling his Magnum out from his side and delivering a point blank shot to the Zealot's face. He had watched his family die right in front of him, and Six had surely either been killed along with them or been taken off planet to die in another battle. There was no honor in this anymore. This was a war of attrition, and he would take every kill he could get. He slowly lumbered over to the main controls and fumbled with them until the internal power for the ship was shut down. As he flipped on his night vision, he knew that he would only have the blood of his enemies to keep him warm tonight. Emile was never heard from again, but to this day stories are told within the UNSC ranks of a mercenary for hire. A man with a skull painted on his helmet, a single man who took down an entire Covenant fleet singlehandedly. He is known, as Oddball.
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