(A.N. Ok so this is my first Fan Fiction, and by the process of elimination it's also my first submission to the site. I'm looking forward to any feedback and sincerely hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.)
Prologue
Acrid smoke filled the air, and the light from countless fires illuminated the darkness. Around the Unngoy deacon were twisted shards of metal, remnants of the vehicles that his team had destroyed. The human in front of them looked into the eyes of the Sangheili that was about to kill him. His eyes showed no fear, which surprised and un-nerved Yarkuk. Was this human insane? On his ship, an Unngoy with eyes like that would be an outcast.
The Sangheili had drawn his energy sword, this was even more surprising. Sangheili do not respect guns and will never use them on beings they consider worthy. This human must have seemed important enough to deserve a more personal dispatch.
It must be the eyes Yarkuk thought.
The man dropped to his knees, his eyes never leaving the face of the 7' tall menace in front of him. The Elite barked some bullshit at him; it had that sword out and was waiting for something. It didn't seem like it was preparing to pounce. Was it waiting for a reaction maybe? Well, he would be giving it one soon enough.
The man smiled, causing the Grunt to the left of the Elite to gave a start and draw its plasma pistol. 'Jumpy little bugger isn't he?' the man asked up at the Elite who, gaze never leaving him, backhanded the Grunt for its show of cowardice.
Yarkuk watched the Sangheili slowly approaching the human, its stride was confident, obviously it was not expecting much of a struggle from this lesser being, yet it was also a little cautious, they had all seen the devastation this humans ragtag of survivors had caused.
The man wondered why the Elite had not just shot him. Oh well, he thought, it's the last mistake this bastard will make.
As the Red armoured alien crossed the last few metres to him, the man noticed the excited grunt jump behind an overturned warthog. He watched as it stuck its eyes over the mangled axel to watch the execution. The man wondered if the warthog would save it.
He looked up at the Elite that towered over him, sword raised for the final slice. In the last moments of his life the man almost laughed at the irony. This bomb he had strapped to his chest was intended to kill those smarmy UNSC bastards, yet here he was, about to set it off to grant those same troops a little more time.
The Elite growled a few words down at him, that the man didn't understand but replied in turn anyway
'Go to hell' he said before pulling the bombs ignition cord.
Yarkuk screamed as a wave of heat and raw power swept over him. Obliterating everything in its path.