* "What took you so long?" the leader of the Sangheili executioners demanded shrewdly as Zharn walked into hearing-range, fingers drumming the barrel of the human assault rifle he held. It was a question which caught Zharn off guard, and he stumbled for a lie to tell; a practice he was not well versed in. "It took some time for the Light of Helios to drop his guard," he finally managed to get out, hoping his pause would be misconstrued as weariness. "He's dead and disposed of." "... well done," the leader congratulated without really seeming to care, before turning back to face the rest of the group. Zharn nervously assumed his place amongst them; a few shot him sideward glances but none seemed to notice that the wearer of the armour had changed. The human rifle Zharn had himself clung to his back, its weight alien and unwelcome. "So... what's the plan?" he asked, immediately drawing the stares of all in the group. He felt his palms run slick with sweat, and struggled to keep his expression as blank as possible. [i]This is where your being here would be useful, Ahkrin,[/i] he thought ruefully, wondering in the back of his mind where his friend had gotten too. "We carry on as we have been," the leader spoke slowly. "Are you okay, warrior?" "There was a moment where the Light threatened to overwhelm me," Zharn forced out, rubbing the back of his head as if he were in pain. "I prevailed but not before he got a good swing in." "Well, clear your mind," the leader spoke harshly. "I'll tell you our objective one more time; pay attention. We're to unload more humans than before after the marks have been dealt with; make it seem as though their numbers are dwindling. These people are poor and in low positions on the station, they shall not be missed." "Our orders say this?" Zharn phrased delicately, hoping his words were ambiguous enough that they would not seem too strange. "Straight from the his mouth," the Sangheili in charge of the operation affirmed, and Zharn could tell from his tone that he was not accustomed to having to explain himself at length. "I almost wonder if we are doing the right thing here," Zharn finally risked, taking the chance that showing a small sliver of morality wouldn't earn him one of those metal bullets in the back. Relief washed over him like a cooling wave when he saw confliction skip across the leader's eyes, and heard men to each side of him shuffle a little. "For the greater good, we must sometimes bury our consciences," the leader finally heaved out. "You all know as well as I that morale for the holy crusade against the humans is low; we need something to galvanise the people. When our Covenant awakens to dozens of dead bodies at human hands, they will be outraged and as determined as ever to cleanse the galaxy of their filth." [i]So that's it,[/i] Zharn realised, and started the laborious task of compiling all he knew into a whole, quantifiable reality to explain all the madness. High Charity placed under lowdown, his fleet called in to enforce that quarantine, the station being near Sangheilios, his being told humans had infiltrated the station; all designed to instil within the populace a sweeping of patriotism. He wagered that somewhere inside the revenant transport was the body of the demon he had killed on Eridanus II, brought not hours ago from his flagship down to High Charity. They'd no doubt finally have that body dumped, surrounded by dead Covenant who'd valiantly given their lives in defence of all on the station. [i]A brilliant plan,[/i] he marvelled, and knew then too why all the people in this little execution group didn't seem to know each other -- every person's identity was being kept a secret, so after this was done they could return to their lives and pretend nothing had happened. The only thing he couldn't figure out was how Ahkrin fit into it all. Although he could on some basic level appreciate the underlying motive of the plan, in the end his morality won out over his dedication to the Covenant. This was wrong. It had to be stopped. "Let's move," the leader motioned, taking point and leading the line of troops into the district. Something about his voice seemed vaguely familiar, like something he had seen over the 'casts, but Zharn could not quite place it. He looked down at his own rifle and flipped the safety off. "Jamming device is active," one of the others called over in hushed tones, stepping away from a pulsating piece of equipment. "They're dark." "Onto the first building complex; swift, efficient breaching and clean kills," the leader commanded, and a group of five immediately rushed towards the first building, which rose several stories into the air, one of them reaching down to the lock panel and beginning to hack into its systems. [i]It's now or never.[/i] With a casual nonchalance, Zharn walked over to the group and unbuckled a small sphere from his belt. He whistled twice, and heard the clicking noise as the plasma grenade primed. "Hey!" he called out to the one hacking the control panel just as he reached them. The Sangheili looked up just in time to see the butt of Zharn's rifle come crashing into his jaw. The hacker fell backwards with a cry, and the others turned to face them with surprise. Zharn's wrist flicked, and the plasma grenade was let loose. It flew in between them, its sudden appearance stunning them for a few seconds. Zharn was already moving backwards, throwing himself into the air in an attempt to garner as much distance between he and the imminent blast as possible-- [i]Boom![/i] In a storm of blues and purples, the grenade let loose its deadly discharge and along with a considerable portion of the building's door, took out the five who had been lined up against it. The explosion sounded throughout the large expanse of streets, stealing the undivided attention of the other seven Sangheili. Zharn had already opened fire, his first unloading of bullets snagging two of the bastards in the face. Their shields not yet activated, they dropped like stones let loose from one's hand. "Take cover!" the leader barked at the remaining five, who immediately scrambled for the nearest wall or anything else that could shield them from the hail of bullets chasing them. Zharn caught one in the foot as he scrambled to get away, sending him sprawling onto the floor a few metres away. As Zharn himself dove to reach cover of his own, he drew out a knife from his belt and hurled it into the back of the crippled Sangheili, pinning him to the ground through a pair of lungs. With no time to check if the blow had been fatal, Zharn dove behind the corner of a building and posted himself up against it. The executioners had returned fire now, the thunder of the bullets battering against the wall Zharn cowered behind. He poked his rifle out the side of the cover and let loose a few blind shots from the assault rifle. They all missed. [i]Curse this inefficient weapon![/i] "Flank him!" he heard the leader squawk in a rare dialect of kig-yar, the man no doubt thinking it would allow him to relay orders to his men without Zharn understanding them. Fortunately, Zharn's father had made sure he understood almost all languages of the Covenant when he had been a boy. Drawing out a knife, he caught one of the Sangheili as they moved to circle him, impaling the carotid artery and invoking a sudden surge of blood. Dumping the corpse, he moved on and evaded their flanking manoeuvre, sweeping behind another building. Lights were turning on in the complexes all around them, but no faces rose to the windows. Usually the constabulary would have been on them within the first few seconds of a shot being fired, but they'd all been told to leave. That would prove to be a very ironic undoing for the execution team. "I see him!" one of the Sangheili called out excitedly from behind him. Zharn pivoted to see the man already preparing to fire his rifle, and sagged. There was no way he could avoid that shot. [i]Bam![/i] the heavy object swung from behind another building, its impact sending the Sangheili soaring down the street. The body flew past Zharn as if it had been hurled from a catapult, eventually coming to rest some several inches deep into a heavy garage door. "I thought you were going to infiltrate their ranks!" Orpheus cried out as he lumbered towards Zharn, his gravity hammer drawn and coated in a sticky residue. "I was never much one for subterfuge," Zharn wheezed back, hearing footsteps to the left of him. A Sangheili emerged into the street with a rifle raised, face falling as he saw the Jiralhanae who had joined their attacker. Orpheus discharged a burst of energy from his weapon, knocking the man of his feet. Without mercy, Zharn stalked over and emptied a few shells into the downed Sangheili's chest. Suddenly, silence fell. "There are two left," Zharn whispered to Orpheus as they moved between the labyrinth of alleyways and buildings, backs pressed up against each other. He could smell the Jiralhanae's drenched fur, and knew he probably didn't smell too great himself. "One's the leader." "What do we do after we've dealt with them?" Orpheus asked, speaking with complete confidence in their ability to dispatch the two remaining executioners. "We'll work that one out later. Let's focus on surviving first."