[center][img]https://www.pngkey.com/png/full/391-3919368_file-unsc-symbol-logo-halo-wars-the-great.png[/img][/center]

[center][h2]UNSC [i]Unbroken Hope[/i][/h2][/center]

[h3]1530 Hours, April 11th 2550 (Military Calendar) /
Unknown system, Unknown sector, Aboard the [i]Resurgence.[/i][/h3] 

Interacting with: Everyone aboard the [i]Resurgence.[/i]

	The meeting was getting out of hand. Marcus wasn't a politician, senator or philosopher. He was the Captain of a ship, and the individuals in the room that bickered and argued with brooding disdain for each other began to pry away at his nerves. When his CNI glitched, the Spartans must have felt it too as the figured known as 'Elizabeth' stepped out from a shadowed corner. They visibly tensed, but didn't bother to draw their weapons. Marcus reached up and boorishly rubbed the sleep still encrusted within the corners of his eyes, speaking up soon after to Elizabeth with a light sigh. "If what you say is true about this 'Anubis' figure, then it is clear that the risk of simply letting them go about to dominate entire universes is enough for me to chip in and help with what I can manage- with the exception of a few upgrades. As for the rest of these individuals here, obviously where their own motivations lie will determine if they help out or not. The last thing I'd want to see from a ragtag assembled fleet such as this is infighting among- what I would presume to be- disciplined individuals in charge of warships. So, if there is a plan of action to be discussed, let's hear what has to be done first and then we can go from there." 

Marcus relaxed his arms back to his sides and thumbed the inside of his service jacket sleeves- a habit he'd picked up when his nerves began to grow impatient in him. Empires, Republics, someone called "Palpatine"... it didn't matter unless it became a problem, but at the forefront of his mind was dealing with this Anubis figure. If by some chance they were interconnected, then it would become little more than a hit-list on who to eliminate first within the web of intrigue. The Spartans remained unnervingly silent in the room, with the only real indication of identity seen as three numeric digits stenciled in bold white letters across their left breastplate.