"I'm sorry." was all he said, in shame. The old man looked up, but where Sorran had expected to see anger, he saw but forgiveness. "You killed my son. But it wasn't your fault. He would have killed you, you had no choice...I understand. Even as the Lord does, I forgive you, strange Elite. Now go, leave me with my dead son. No doubt I will join him soon." Sorran frowned against his better judgement. "There is still time to hide old man. I would not have you killed, I owe that much to you for killing your son." the Sangheili protested, and the old man shook his head firmly. "No, I will remain here." Sorran shook his head, and took a step towards the elderly human. This felt all wrong, yet at the same time, just. "Nay, you shall not." Sorran breathed, placing two fingers upon the man's shoulder and squeezing. The human instantly collapsed, out cold. Sorran lifted the man out of the pool of blood, and, searching around, managed to find a set of doors embedded in the ground. He ripped one off, and lowered the old human down the stairs, setting him to rest inside. Sorran then shut the hatch from the outside, leaving the unconscious human below. He then dipped his finger in Miguel's blood, and traced the shape of a Y on the two doors, which would indicate to other forces of the Covenant that the house had already been searched. The old man was safe. Until the glassing started. There was nothing Sorran would be able to do to stop that though. He had done his best. Why? The answer to that question still eluded him, alas. But Sorran knew he had done good that day. He looked sadly at the body of Miguel, and noticed that he too, like his father, wore a cross around his neck. Sorran reached down, and grabbed the chain, ripping it from it's dead wearer. He held the cross up in the light, admiring it's fine craftsmanship. Tiny human letters were grooved in the man body of the cross. Even from the distance he was holding the religious item, Sorran could make out the words. [i]'CHRIST IS FOREVER WITH YOU.'[/i] What did those words mean? Obviously something important to the man and his son. Who was Christ? Some sort of Demon? Sorran decided it best to leave the body of Miguel, if Christ really was a Demon who was with him. Still, the Elite kept the cross, and it's chain, draping it around his neck and tucking it under his armour. He did not know why. The Sangheili hurried out of the alley, aware of a dull throbbing at his back. The knife wound had indeed been painful. Fire was rising from the city, and smoke was clogging the streets. Up ahead, Sorran could make out the faint shape of a fellow Sangheili. One wearing black armour. It was hard to tell who it was through the thick smog. Sorran moved closer to Ahkrin, who turned around with an expression of surprise, noticing the Sangheili minor. "Is that you Sorran? Good, good. This smoke is heavy, what is Zharn's attack force doing? They should be keeping the smoke away from the city, all it is doing is hampering us and them." Ahkrin told Sorran, covering his maw with a thick hand. Sorran did likewise. Ahkrin then noticed blood dripping from Sorran's back. "You're hurt Sorran! What happened?" the Stealth Sangheili questioned worriedly. Sorran began to feel a little dizzy. "One of their marines, back in an alleyway. Attacked me with a knife. My shields aren't recharging." Sorran explained, coughing as he inhaled some smoke. Ahkrin grimaced, and pointed towards a building at the end of the street. "Come, let us get out of this foul air and somewhere where I can heal you." Ahkrin instructed Sorran, who nodded, following his friend. Screams could be heard all around them, especially in the lower districts, and the stench of blood was thick in the air. Sorran felt sick. War was not as glorious as the Elders made it out to be.