Blue lights snaked across each other, drawing in the fog a faint spider's web of discharge which hung in the murkiness. Zharn swiped at his opponent with his blade, it was casually knocked aside and replied to by a heavy-handed swing at his neck; Zharn dodged desperately, managing to avoid the blow. The executioners' commander back-stepped a few paces, and for the first time Zharn saw a little of the eyes behind his helmet; they creased with age-lines, betraying a weakness. His foe was old, and although old men often knew far more than youth, their bodies weren't always able to keep up with their experience. "What's your motivation for doing this?" Zharn demanded as they stayed in those stances for a short time, each surveying the other. "What enables you to so casually kill innocent civilians?" At first his response was only a lunge of the sword, which took him by surprise. He spun away from it deftly, but not before it cut through the edges of his shielding and grazed his side. "I'm an officer in the Covenant," his foe told him, almost earnestly as if he wanted Zharn to know why. "I've seen the way this war with the humans drains our warriors' morale. Many feel wrong killing them; it is because they have not committed any atrocities to our people." "You think pinning all the deaths here on humanity will strengthen their resolve," Zharn consolidated, letting his blade fall to his side for a moment, wondering if perhaps his opponent could be talked down. "I know it will! Too many of my men have died because they hesitate when the order is given to wipe out soldiers who have surrendered, or unarmed civilians." "You can't just create a reason for them to fight," Zharn protested vehemently. "Not when it does not exist." "Perception [i]is[/i] existence," the leader continued. "I see this every day when my men despair, trying to wash the blood of their hands with guilt in some of their eyes. You would not understand." "Actually, I too am an officer in the Covenant," Zharn surprised his opponent, smiling when the other Sangheili's aged pupils dilated. "A fleetmaster. My men make their own choices determined by their own morality, and I would not have it any other way." "... then it seems we are at an impasse," the leader said. "Bring up your blade once more fleetmaster, and let us settle this like--" [i]Bang![/i] the bullet shouted as it hammered its way towards the man's knee, penetrating his lowered shields and dropping him instantly. In a few bounds, Zharn had crossed the distance between them and pointed the smoking magnum at his now-unshielded head. "The next one goes between your eyes," he warned, cocking the weapon threateningly. The other fleetmaster made a noise which sounded like a cross between pain and indignation. "You... shot me!" he gasped out, reaching down and cradling his shattered knee. "What kind of... Sangheili uses a gun... in a sword duel?" "A smart one," Zharn answered, kicking the disgraced officer squarely in the ribs. "I've walked the path of honour, and it led nowhere. Now, you'll answer my questions. Who ordered this... this [i]massacre[/i]?" "It is not a... arghh... massacre, these are drains upon society who in death have served the Covenant far more than they ever would have in--" Zharn kicked him again, drawing out another yell of pain. "I care not for the rhythm or reason, just give me a name!" he barked, pulling the trigger again. A shot burrowed itself into the ground a centimetre from the Sangheili's head. "Don't kill me, I have a family," he pleaded desperately. Zharn's lip curled with derision. "So did all those you've killed. [i]Name![/i]" "He never gave his full name," the man gasped out. "All I know... is that he's an Ossoona who calls himself Pel. He had vested within him proper authority, told us the order came directly from the hierarchs." "Where is he?" Zharn demanded, kneeling down and pressing his weight onto the man's neck. "Holed up in the Janjur Qom district," he rasped out, struggling for air. His arms flailed at his sides. "I know the location of his operations base... Let me lead you." [i]This 'Pel' is in the ruins of the Prophets' homeworld, then? That certainly supports the collaboration of the hierarchs.[/i] "The Qom district is off limits," Zharn mused. "There are guards all around its entrances. What would stop you from calling out to them as soon as we got close, or trying something else?" "You have... my word," he swore. "Hardly something of worth, judging by how easily I broke you," Zharn spoke back with contempt, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't risk it. I've killed worse men than you in my time, but I don't think my conscience will be too burdened by this. Give me your name before you die." "... I won't let you sully my house with falsities of what I've done here. Kill me and be done with it." "You sound familiar. What rank do you hold within the Covenant?" "None of import." Suspicious, Zharn reached down and grabbed the man's helmet. His vanquished foe struggled, but was unable to resist as Zharn pried it from his head. It fell to the ground a few inches away with a resigned clank. For a moment Zharn squinted through the fog at the face of the man he'd triumphed over, until finally he recognised who he had downed. [i]Oh, lords above,[/i] he bemoaned. "Imperial Admiral," he greeted unhappily. "How I wish this had been anybody but you." "Be done with it, fleetmaster. Then forget you ever saw me and be on your way," the Imperial Admiral spat out, blood mixing with the saliva. "No," Zharn decided reluctantly, putting away his pistol and grabbing the man's arm. "I've changed my mind, you're coming with me." "Why?" the Imperial Admiral demanded shrewdly, letting out a little whimper of pain as he was brought up onto his damaged leg. "Surely you are not doing this... because I'm your superior?" "I'd just as quickly kill the supreme commander himself if he did what you have done," Zharn retorted quickly. "I'm not sparing you because of your rank. First we'll join up with my friend, and then you'll lead us to this Ossoona." "Then what? You'll take what you find to the media? You know as well as I it's controlled by the hierarchs... Everything is." "Get moving," Zharn spat. "I'd rather you lived, but don't think I won't gut you if you try [i]anything,[/i] Grymar'ee." [Edited on 12.25.2011 1:06 PM PST]