It was well over a few decades since the second battle of earth ended. A few ragged groups of covenant stragglers were all that remained of the once dominating force. Now the majority of Earth was populated by survivors from all lives, scavengers, hooligans, and sporadic groups of what’s left of many law enforcement and military units. The scars of war still remained, however. Burnt out vehicles, piles of bullet casings. Makeshift graves on the sides of roads and riverbanks, discarded armor. Civilians often weren’t spared either. Oftentimes, the Covenant would massacre civilians and throw them into mass graves. Most, if not all, families were broken up, left to ponder what happened to their loved ones. For once, a fragile peace settled on the planet.
On a different battlefield on the opposite side of the United States lay the skeletons of burnt out vehicles and the rubble of hastily built pillboxes and bunkers. Nature had reclaimed most of the remains, including more makeshift graves, some not even buried. However, one grave was empty, and it’s occupant had been strewn into a patch of grass. This occupant was 63. He had been dead for 45 minutes, only to be resurrected by a nearby medic. The blood loss was too profound, so 63 died again. He had a grave hastily dug and he was rolled into it, only to be blown back out by a plasma mortar. His suit however, managed to conserve enough medicine just enough for a few decades. Once again, 63 awoke to a new world. The medic that had rolled him into his grave was dead. 63 managed to salvage some weapons and obtain a mini nuke. He walked through the knee high grass, past smoked out vehicles, shallow graves, and rubble of buildings and bunkers. As he was wandering aimlessly through one of the many shantytowns hastily set up after the end, he came to realize what really happened.