"The cleansing of the human filth is still underway Hierarch, however we still have some of our own forces down there, the area in which they are evacuating has not been touched yet my lord." An Elite operator interrupted his master.
The Prophet of Storm frowned as he sat at the high chamber chair of the huge and heavily reinforced Supreme Carrier, 'Infamous Fury'. Mort'ang and the Harbinger stood at either end of his shoulders and throne, the human gift in between them both.
"Give them a few moments to flee the retched human planet, then destroy the entire city" Storm drawled slowly, truth was that he barely cared of their lives but the possession of the forerunner data was crucial and the joint force of Thunder pivoted on his kind decision's every now and then.
The operator nodded and left Storm to his transaction in peace.
Gabriel sat kneeling at the prophet's feet, his one arm placed behind him and his eyes closed as he tried to regain consciousness, but over the events of the several days in imprisonment, he had not been treated well and was now exhausted.
Mort'ang tugged at the leash around the Spartan IV's neck and drawled, "O Hierarch, I have brought you one of the revered demons as a gift of my allegiance and my ability to serve as a high ranking fleet-master in your command."
Storm tugged at his chin as he observed the human offering, he was thinking furiously as he knew exactly what was going on here. The fool, Mort'ang was attempting to use the gift of a prisoner to gain more political power; if Storm refused then the cohabitation of Thunder would probably not last long, so the thought tactically.
"Capturing a Demon seems to be a feat only placed on the most admirable of Sangheili" He drawled out slowly, letting every word weigh on the shipmaster Zealot. Mort'ang puffed out his chest proudly as the compliment was received, his mandibles twitching at the thought of his new promotion.
But then the prophet stopped him with one large wave of his hand, "However as you may see, the great journey of our forefathers is about to take place and I require no demon to meddle in the Thunder's might"
Mort'ang stepped forward, "I could execute him for you Hierarch" His taloned arm was placed on the white handle as he prepared to activate it, the large black elite behind Storm grumbled nervously at the drawn weapon.
"What a waste of a gift then" Storm continued to preach, letting a light hit his eye, "No Shipmaster, I wish for you to demonstrate your prowess and keep him in a holding pen of your choosing; and remember his restraint is in harmony with your rise in the ranks of the Thunder."
Mort'ang stood for a moment, confused with his orders but then quickly bobbed his head like a bird; kneeled to the prophet and dragged the human offering away.
The Prophet of Storm almost smiled at his own brilliance, when his forces freed the Spartan IV from Mort'ang's imprisonment; the shipmaster would never bring up this matter again.
Meanwhile
The dim lighting caught the soldier's attention as he attempted to rise from his position, a sharp pain arched from his right leg that refused to allow him control. His chest felt like it was on fire and he could barely feel the right side of his face, East spat out a goblet of blood and let it fling across the air without the presence of a visor and land softly into the ground.
Blurry vision incorporated the heavily wounded Spartan IV as he opened his eyes, something was standing over him; maybe a doctor or surgeon that had come to fix him up and make him healthy again.
But as East felt the floor with one tough set of gloves, he knew that he was still on the remains of New Hemisphere; and that the figure in front of him was definitely not a friendly.
"The Demon awakes" A tough voice drawled out to him, suddenly a pair of rough arms grabbed onto him and tugged him upwards into a kneeling position; the scaly wrists and two sets of primary fingers identified the enemies as Sangheili warriors.
East looked around quickly with the speed of a panicked animal, his vision improving as he noticed he was surrounded by a small group of Elite majors and minors all carrying storm rifles and plasma based projectile weaponry. Looking back at himself the lone Spartan IV almost inhaled in fear as he saw the stump of his right leg, it had been completely chewed away by the raw strength and power of the chopper. A noise distracted him of his own wounds; it was the sound of something scraping a soft object over a harder one. At the head of the group, a large golden elite was crouching over the soft muddy soil and dipping its taloned arm to gather mud from the floor and smell it.
It was General Bremat, the surge of the Covenant.
The golden general stood up slowly, grabbing the white handle from his thigh holster and looking down at the human, it's boots splattered mud into the golden armour of the Spartan IV; contrasting his muddy and destroyed yellow to the pristine of Bremat.
"Do you believe in honour Demon" Bremat drawled out slowly, one claw lingering on the activation trigger of his energy sword.
East spat out another goblet of blood and yelled, "I'm not telling you anything you hinge headed freak, you won't get any information out of me!"
The general paused for a moment, looking around at his forces before he crouched down and stared at the helmetless Spartan IV, his mandibles rotating around as if they were inspecting him; he breathed hot air into East's face as it replied, "I merely asked if you believe in honour."
"Well I do, I believe in it very much!" The Spartan replied, hoping that this answer meant he could fight his way out with the simple principle of honour protecting him; if he knew anything about Elite's it was that they stuck truly to the code of honour.
Bremat stood up slowly, looking back down at the Spartan IV before he spoke one more time, sheathing his holster, "Good…because I don't."
And without another word, the elite turned around and walked away from the Spartan IV in absolute disgust; letting the surrounding Sangheili warriors open fire on the kneeling human and pulverise him with repeated shots of superheated plasma that cut through his armour and continued to melt his body until he physically became nothing but ash.