Sorry that the wait has been so very long, I've been up to my neck in exams over the past few months. They're out of the way until the end of January now, and I should be able to start posting chapters on a more regular basis. It may not be the quickest, but I'll keep writing until the very end. [b]Part 24 - Breaking free[/b] "You underestimated him." "I know that!" Truth snapped at his fellow hierarch, wheeling around and glaring at the ancient face of Mercy. "Does this really matter? It was hardly an important decision. Eridanus II will be receiving reinforcements, I do not see the major issue," Regret replied loftily, polishing the handle of his treasured plasma pistol with an absent-minded expression. [i]Smack![/i] The pitiful slap of Truth struck Regret in the face, and shock registered more than pain. Regret sat down, staring up at the livid Truth, whose usually calm and collected manner had completely broken down. Regret hadn't seen him this angry since when Truth first discovered that another knew the secret of the sacred rings. "Restraint has challenged us on this; he could challenge us on anything, you puppet fool! This is all your fault; if you hadn't told him of what the Oracle told us then none of this would be happening. One failure after another with you, Regret, the most recent being the loss of the Forerunner fleet that could have ended this nightmare of a war in a single sweep!" The words stung more than the strike had, and Regret winced. Mercy was watching the scene with a tired expression, and finally decided to intervene. "Enough. What's done is done, and arguing shall get us no where. So Restraint has finally come out of hiding; what of it? We simply kill him." "It's not that simple, Mercy," Truth answered in a gentler tone. Regret could see that Truth respected Mercy, but respect did not equate to friendship where Truth was concerned. The fact of the matter was that none of them were friends. All were tied together by the titles and knowledge they shared in an unbreakable bond, but all that did was make the dislike more apparent. "Because he is a High Councillor? Yes, you are right. Were he to suddenly turn up dead, all of High Charity would be in uproar. Investigations would be conducted and some small trace of evidence would be found linking the killing to us." "Then what if he weren't a High Councillor?" Regret asked simply, half-expecting another strike from Truth. "If he weren't then his death would be scrutinised far less closely," Mercy added, inclining his aged head which threatened to buckle his serpentine neck towards Regret in acknowledgement. Truth studied both of them, before smiling broadly. "Nobody cares about the life of a heretic. But how would we go about bringing him down to this level? The Minister is a popular man amongst the people." "There's always a way, Truth. It may take time, but we will find a way." * * * * * * * * * * "My knowledge of human systems is limited, but this isn't an elevator," Ahkrin told the human guard accompanying him, shifting a little nervously, the heavy, solid steel restraints holding his limbs still paining him as he did so. Then, suddenly-- [i]Thud![/i] Ahkrin found himself staring at the ground, a few seconds lost and blood trickling openly from his nose. His eyes swam as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Before he could, he was rolled over by the male marine (who was large for a human) and staring down the sight of a barrel. Again. Was there something about him which made people want to kill him? "That senescent fool Cole wants us all to treat you like honoured guests," the marine spat, a feral snarl creeping across his face and murder leaping into his bruised, bloodshot eyes. The human lifted a heavy boot. [i]Snap![/i] Ahkrin howled in pain as several bones in his right leg crunched under the weight of the boot. There was nothing else at that point in time; no marine pointing a gun at him, no cramped hallway, no blood pouring down his face. Just sheer agony. When the world returned, reluctantly, Ahkrin was pressed up against the hull of the ship and treated to the harsh, heavy breathing of the marine as he was glared at in the face. Unwillingly, Ahkrin could not help but glimpse at his leg, which was gnarled and twisted like a burnt tree. "But I remember that you're the enemy. And if you live today, tomorrow more of us will be killed by you," the marine continued, swiftly dealing Ahkrin a solid blow in the stomach with a gauntleted hand, as if he was not content with the level of pain the Sangheili was already at. "Help!" Ahkrin shouted down the hallway over the marine's shoulder, hoping that the female captain who had left him in this insane marine's murderous hands a few minutes ago would be able to hear him, or that anyone would. The only response he received was a heavy-handed blow to the mouth by the human. "No one can hear you. It's just me, you, and the cushy little airlock to the left of us." "Airlock? And there was me hoping it was a storage cupboard," Ahkrin answered sarcastically through the pain and fuchsia blood. [i]Keep him talking Ahkrin, and get him angry,[/i] Ahkrin thought to himself, absently wondering why he kept thinking in third person. Angry people made mistakes. "Shut it!" the marine bellowed, bringing out his weapon and levelling it at Ahkrin's left kneecap. He hesitated for only a moment before firing. The process of the gun leaving the chamber seemed slow to Ahkrin. He could feel the bullet sweep the air around it away, and heard the metal round pierce the flesh of his knee before smashing into bone, before-- Nothing. The pain was so intense and sudden that his mind simply could not handle it. Ahkrin heard the bone crunch, saw the bullet fly through to the other side, and smelt the blood as it gushed out, plastering the wall behind. But he felt none of it. Ahkrin, urged on by some deep, primal instinct that must have kept his ancestors moving through the brutal winters of Sangheilios and helped them triumph over the savage beasts that had once been native to the land. The world around him seemed to slow down as he took a step forward impossibly on his broken leg, before bringing up his arms and driving them into the chest of the mortified human with the force of a Sharquoi, sending the marine's fragile form flying against the wall. The man who had tried to kill Ahkrin stared at him for a few seconds, eyes bulging on a head attached to his twisted neck. His mouth opened as if he were trying to utter some final, bitter curse, but all that came from his throat was a torrent of dark blood. And then he died. The animal rage and adrenaline which had surged through Ahkrin's broken body left along with the human's life, and Ahkrin's world exploded in pain. He cried out in raw agony, falling onto the corpse of the dead marine. The last thing he saw before lulling into unconsciousness was the hollow eyes of the man, still burning with a fervent hatred even after death.