I'm sure you HoH veterans are tired of reading this chapter, but nevertheless, here it is, and it's better than before :D [i]Chapter One[/i] [b]Regrets[/b] I never wanted to be a traitor. I never sought after separating; not once had I considered switching sides, abandoning all that I'd come to know. I was taught that way. Taught to be at the obedience and convenience of my wicked master. Taught to be nothing more than a terribly misguided pawn, blinded by a furious honor and tied down by an oath sworn by my forefathers. My name is Sol. This is my story. *** [b]Delta Halo, Regret's Chamber November 2nd, 2552[/b] "Take your positions, my brothers! Defend the Hierarch!" The command was immediately answered. Eighteen Honor Guards spread out in a wide semicircle, as they'd always been taught, sealing off side routes between the entrance to the immense, segmented throne room and their master, the High Prophet of Regret himself. I was one of them. "When the Demon arrives, unleash everything you have!" the appointed Commander barked. "Unggoy in front and Sangheili behind. Let us use our strength in numbers against him!" I lined up in accordance with the other guards, taking my place on the left flank beside the bridge, which extended laterally across the entire chamber. Behind me, the tranquil sound of a waterfall filled my ears, though it was not the least bit soothing. Four Unggoy, Grunts as they were often called, tentatively took their positions in front of me. A shame. The puny, methane breathing creatures wouldn't last very long, and they knew it. They were simply there for the enemy to waste precious ammo on. To give their own lives for the Great Journey. Close behind, though I dared not look back, I heard the ominous hum of a gravity throne. The Prophet of Regret himself, humming thoughtfully. If he was frightened by the prospect of facing the human's most feared warrior in combat, he did not express it. "Let him come forth," the Hierarch prodded. I could easily picture the wry, wicked smile unfolding on his ugly face-- overconfident in his own abilities, and taking his enemies lightly, as always. As if in answer to his demand, a thunderous explosion cracked from just outside the throne room, blowing the door off its hinges and sending two Elites careening through the smoke, smacking against one of the many pillars before sliding down to the ground as corpses. We all knew he would come. It had only been a matter of when. I suddenly realized I'd taken for granted the precious moments of serenity before he arrived. My insides clenched, and I anxiously squeezed the handle of my Plasma Rifle, frowning, my heart sinking faster with every passing moment. I was not ready. [i]He[/i] was. Everything happened at once. A figure clad in a battered, iradescent green suit of armor and a shimmering gold visor waded through the smoke. It took a moment for me to realize that the blood stains that had long since dried on him were not his own. He made his way up to the balcony and looked out on the temple, and although I could not see his eyes, I knew his gaze had fallen upon the Prophet. The Hierarch himself drifted forward on his gravity throne, murmuring inaudibly. Perhaps a final plea to the gods? "You dare interrupt my sermon?" he boomed, hovering ever closer to the balcony, challenging the Demon to strike. In response, the human warrior lifted his weapon almost casually, poising it in a direct line to the Prophet. Regret snarled, embracing his true cowardice and gliding back to safety on the far side of the temple. "Guards! Remove this vermin from my sight!" A great battle cry erupted from the line of Guards, Elites and Grunts alike, and together we began to close the gap between the demon and the Hierarch, as we had always been told. Two swordsman flanked the Demon from the left and right, both eager to be the famed Sangheili to have slain him. Without hesitation, the Demon ducked under the arc of both swords, then, with impossible quickness, sidestepped to the left and slammed the barrel of his weapon into the Guard's back, cracking his spine. Hoping to catch his enemy by surprise, the second Guard lunged forward, roaring triumphantly, but to no avail. The Demon shuffled to the right, unloading his entire magazine into the Guard's head, mutilating the unworthy challenger. Horror took hold of me. I was no fighter. I didn't want to die for the Great Journey. I didn't want to die for anything, and if I faced the Demon in battle, the result would have me as naught but a lifeless shell, forever pondering why I had given my own life for something I didn't believe in. I was not going to die. Not today. By now, all hell had broken lose. Mutilated corpses tumbled to the ground like ragdolls. Volleys of searing plasma fire seemed to be fired blindly, even the most skilled marksmen unable to contend with the Demon's speed and cleverness. Even the Prophet himself had utilized the twin cannons attached to his throne, scorching the temple walls but never landing a blow. "'Solonee!" The voice startled me out of me out of my paranoia, but only briefly. I whirled around to face one of the Guards, clutching his arm, blood seeping through the gaps of his fingers. Several stray bullets had penetrated his shielding. I could see the pain in his eyes as he struggled toward me, gasping for breath. I grabbed hold of him and tentatively laid him down behind the cover of one of the pillars, looking all around for some way to help him. Some way to halt the endless flow of blood from several openings. Instead, he grunted loudly, calling for my attention. I knelt beside him. He extended his arm toward me, using all of his remaining strength. His bloody palm outstretched, and the Elite's deactivated Energy Sword fell at my feet. "Take it," he whispered. "Take it...and use it well." His eyes widened and his mouth slowly fell open. The warrior breathed his last. At that moment, everything fell into a new perspective. I gazed around the chamber, at the corpses littering the ground, their blood soaking the once immaculate ancient tiling. The forever echoing screams of pain and the thunderous crack of bullet and plasma fire, forming together in endless song. Below me, I caught sight of the Demon himself, easily dispatching another group of Guards. His gaze then averted back to the Prophet. Before anyone could react, he leapt to the side and sprinted forward, leaping up and catching the Prophet by surprise. A raspy wail erupted as a metallic fist clashed with the Hierarch's delicate face. Then the other. Regret's gravity throne spun wildly, smacking into pillars and knocking over an entire Grunt lance. "Animal! How dare you--" Another wail of pain, echoing. Joining the song. I snatched up the Energy Sword that the dying Sangheili had given me, but I did not start in the direction of the Prophet. A dark cowardice embraced my heart, and before I could change my mind, my legs were carrying me towards the exit. I flitted across the temple, faster than I'd ever run in my life. I didn't care what the consequences would be. I didn't care about honor, about the Covenant, about what it meant to be a member of the Guard. I certainly didn't care about the Prophet's life. The bastard would get what he deserved. I vaguely recalled something my father used to say, so long ago. [i]"There'll always be another day, my son. Live to fight for it."[/i] Yes. There would be another day. A better day. One without slaughter and death and warfare. Nobody stopped me as I drew up near the doorway-- everyone was dead or wounded-- but even so, I could feel a pair of eyes on my back. I didn't need to turn to know who it was, but I did anyway, slowly looking over my shoulder like a nervous child. The Prophet of Regret sat in his gravity throne, his face drenched in his own blood. The Demon grasped on to the hovering device, preparing to deliver the final blow. Something was different about him, though. No longer was his glare full of malice and hatred. Instead, he just stared at me, eyes wide in shock. He started to say something, then stopped, the pain overwhelming him. He was silently begging for his life. Begging for someone to come to his aid, to die for him, as they always had. For the briefest moment, on account of my 'honorable' instincts, the idea of turning back passed through my mind, but it was very quickly relinquished. The Hierarchs had taken everything from me once, not so long ago. They didn't deserve my help. They certainly didn't deserve my life. I drew in a deep breath and strode out of the chamber, Regret's last scream echoing behind me. [i]End Transmission[/i] Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, though I must admit it was tough to write for two reasons. For one, most of you guys have actually played this stage of Halo 2, so I had to try my best to mirror the image that you all have in your mind, and, to top it off, I've written this three times over the last two years, so I had to find ways to improve it form the originals. More to come soon. Thanks for reading! ~Murph