Halo: Seventh Hell

Prologue

Covenant Holy City High Charity, 2 Units after destruction of the Sacred Ring

The Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice was dragged down the corridor aboard the Holy City. He was carried between two heavy-set Brutes, their huge furry bodies rippling as they carried him towards the ever-growing triangle of light at the end of the passage. Not that the Commander could see much, as a third Brute blocked his vision. He was Tartarus, Chieftain of the Brutes, and the new right hand man of the Prophet of Truth, a position only recently vacated by the Commander. This was but the first of the many humiliations the proud Elite would suffer. The second was upon him in seconds, as he was dragged onto a raised platform and chained to a v-frame that suspended his legs above the ground.

As he craned his neck down, he took into account the hundreds, possibly thousands of Covenant warriors arrayed before him. Most of them were crewmembers in the fleet he commanded, he spotted a few of the senior officers immediately. Previously when they'd looked at the tall Elite, their faces had been full of respect. Scorn was all the Commander saw now. Tartarus, who appeared to be enjoying himself, walked around to the Commander's right, as his two henchmen withdrew to a safe distance.

"Are you ready for this, Commander?" The towering Brute sneered, before driving a huge fist into the Commander's midriff.

Below him, the Covenant warriors roared, baying for the blood of their old leader, the man responsible for the destruction of the Holy Ring, at the hands of the blasted Devil-Human, the last of his broken kind. Tartarus struck him again, this time his head taking the full brunt of the muscular alien's assault. Tartarus' next blow was aimed at the Commander's neck, but instead of the blow hitting home, it stopped inches from the Elite's skin. He thought, for an instant, that the humiliation would be over. But instead, the huge Brute tore the Commander's black chestplate off. This exerted a howl of despair from the Elite, as Tartarus hurled the piece of steel to the baying hoards below.

If looks could kill, the black look that the Commander threw the Brute would have killed him three times over. The Brute was impressive to look at, a towering mass of dark fur and rippling muscle, with a wild white Mohawk on top. He roared at the crowd, before launching into a speech intended to make them even more pissed off at the Elite then they already were. Great, thought the Commander.

"Brave warriors of the Covenant!" Hollered Tartarus. "We are here today to witness the punishment of this… wretch…" Tartarus stopped talking to punch the Commander in the face, and rip his helm from his head "… for failing to protect the Sacred Ring from the human's sacrilegious Demon!" The Brute paused to give an almighty roar, which would have been ear splitting enough without thousands of Covenant joining in. "For this…" Another fist smacked into the Commander's chest. "You are being stripped of your rank. No longer are you The Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice!"

The ex-Commander knew it had been coming, but the words still struck him like the rear end of a Brute Shot. His reverie was broken as one of Tartarus' lackeys punched him in the groin, before ripping off his right leg armour, with another Brute doing the same to his left leg. He wondered if Tartarus was going to knock him out in public, of inflict some more grievous injuries before hauling him off to High Charity's diverse range of detainment cells. Yeah, right. A Brute kicked him, but Tartarus was busy continuing his lecture to the range of Covenant creatures. The Elite missed the first part, but it was ending when he returned his attention to the monster. "…fools. Let this serve as a reminder for the rest of you! Dishonour the Prophet's name, and you shall be punished in the same way as this vermin!"

The Elite thought Tartarus was finished, but he drew a deep breath. "This rat should be killed, but an intervention by a Prophet means that he will continue service under the Covenant." Tartarus hefted a Brute Shot from where it was leant against a wall. The weapon was basically a frag-grenade launcher, with a huge blade attached to the rear end. He swung the blade towards the chained Elite, shearing the manacles and allowing the naked creature to drop to the floor. "Ragnorak, Darantek, take him to the Mausoleum of the Arbiter." Tartarus growled, and two powerfully built Brutes grabbed the broken Elite and dragged him down the corridor they had arrived from.

The mangled alien's brain was suffering from a minor concussion, due to one of the Brute's blows to his head, and made little sense of his journey through the winding corridors of the Holy City. Indeed, all his eyes seemed to send him were blurred pictures, mixtures of purple and brown. He shut his eyes, eager to be away from the hell which his injuries had left him in. That the ones who had caused his injuries had left him in. That the Brutes had left him in. That Tartarus had left him in. His anger towards the Brute was huge, but he concealed it, as his ears picked up a roar from one of his escorts.

"Get Up."

The Elite complied. A breastplate clicked into place over his shoulders, and he heard a clack from lower down as his leg armour was fastened on. A helmet was left on a pedestal for him to put on himself. He did so. The Brute called Ragnorak sneered evilly, knocking his head against the pedestal and throwing him over his shoulder. As the battered Elite finally lost consciousness, he heard the Brute snarl one last line.

"Warriors of the Covenant, I give you the Arbiter, Blade of the Prophets…"