Chapter Text
There was a great deal of things Kar 'Kuhom has learned during his years in service of the Covenant. Both basic principles and wisdom gained only through experience has shaped him far beyond his younger, foolhardy self. The Major was still relatively new compared to his more battle hardened brothers, but has faced his own fair share of combat. A relentless and arduous campaign on one of the human's worlds led to his ascension and newfound responsibilities.
Like many other human worlds, the defenders had fought with ferocity to keep their ships from reducing its surface to glass. The defense fleet was small and caught off guard by the sudden incursion, allowing one of their Carriers, Penitence, to slip through while the rest of the fleet dealt with the enemy Frigates. Kar was one of the many Minors that were led by a seasoned Ultra named Viza 'Gorum, dispatched to one of the many facilities along the planet's surface.
The humans had entrenched themselves the moment they realized what was happening, doing their best to keep Covenant forces away from the heavy weapon emplacements gutting Corvettes and knocking Phantoms out of the sky. They were tasked with disabling these "Mass Drivers" and giving their fleet a window to begin raining fire on the city beyond. That was the first taste of real combat for Kar, he had led a small group of six Unggoy into the fray alongside two of his battle brothers, one of which died in honorable battle against the humans.
He was one of the lucky ones, for many of Kar's kin had been picked off by sharpshooters on other fronts. The cowardly humans had resorted to guerilla tactics once they began losing ground, targeting Sangheili officers with extreme prejudice. Kar himself was lucky that the facility they hit was still scrambling their defenses. They were able to clear the base and disable the gun with minimum causalities, with only a few scars to show for it. Kar was amongst the strike force that had breached the fortress, killing scores of Humans alongside his brothers. It was Kar that turned the gun into molten scrap with a well thrown grenade.
The thought made the Major run a hand over his breastplate, which hid several scarred over bullet wounds, an eternal reminder of his ill placed confidence. He had relied on his personal shields too much and paid the price when they finally broke. The man he had rushed would have killed him if not for the timely intervention of a plasma grenade, thrown by one of his own Unggoy.
A few of the Minor Unggoy had fled the moment they saw him go down, presuming him to be dead once they saw his blood ridden chest. Only one Major had stayed, saving his life and calling out to his brethren to assist their wounded leader. The Major, who he soon learned was called Lazap, was the only reason he was still alive.
It was only then did he realize the brutal nature of their war, seeing dozens of other injured soldiers carried back to their Phantoms. Purple and blue luminescent blood staining armor as they groaned and cried out in pain. He had even seen a Sangheili Major pulled from the battlefield with his left side charred, missing his leg and arm from a rocket explosion that turned a nearby Wraith into a burning husk.
That was without mentioning the countless bodies, both Human and Covenant. It was a sight that Kar would not soon forget.
Despite it all, he still desired to get back to the fight. Viza had admired his conviction, but had denied him. Cyrus VII would burn by order of the Prophets and he would be sent back to the Penitence to receive medical attention. Viza had left him, assuring him that his stalwart actions that day would not go unnoticed.
Several battles and years later saw his promotion with the blessing of Viza, who greatly honored him.
While this position brought Kar joy, it left him with lingering doubts. He did not lead his Unggoy so much as demand them to engage the enemy, leading a good deal to die so that he could land killing blows. If he was to perform according to his station, he would need to improve his leadership, especially of he was expected to lead his lower ranked brothers into battle.
It for this very reason that saw him overseeing the fresh arrival of Unggoy Minors, watching as they disembarked and marched after their respective Sangheili officers. He already knew which detachments would be under his command, having received word ahead of time from one of the military academies in High Charity. The Shipmaster, Risze 'Srasumee, had docked the Penitence in the holy city for repairs and rearmament. The Carrier had sustained damage from some of the secondary weapons of the defense fleet while on approach to Cyrus VII's surface, leading to several damaged sub levels and hull breaches from Archer Missiles.
The only good thing about this was that he was able to visit his father, Xasa, on High Charity, a once seasoned warrior that now overlooked the training of the Unggoy, an endless source of amusement for Kar. His father was proud of both his ascension and his battle scars, pleased to see his son honoring the 'Kuhom name. They had caught up and even sparred for the first time in years since Kar's enlistment, ending with the Major flat on his back after a through defeat,
He could never beat his father in a duel, but his defeat came too soundly, something his father had noticed.
"What troubles you, Kar?" He had asked after helping him to his feet, making the younger Sangheili hum in discontent.
Kar hesitated for a moment, debating whether to be honest before sighing. "I find my mind clouded in doubt now that I have been promoted." Xasa raised a brow at that, resting his arms over the training staff he had used during their spar.
"Why is that? You've claimed the lives of many humans, rightfully earning the title of Major, you could not have asked for a better first battle." Xasa's reply made Kar shake his head for a moment, his mandibles momentarily spreading before he spoke.
"My combat prowess is not what worries me, it is the fate of those I will come to lead. Many of the Unggoy under my command fell to allow me a chance at glory." They both returned their staffs and sat down at the far side of the training room, watching as other Sangheili sparred and fought.
"Many of their kind die in such a way, you should not let your heart grow heavy with guilt over their sacrifice." His father's words made Kar run a hand over his sweat stained face, clicking his mandibles in irritation, a habit he's formed over the years.
"Their deaths are not the problem, I know full well that many Unggoy may die under my leadership. It is my fellow Sangheili that worries me. If I can not assure the safety of a few Grunts, then how am I expected to lead my brothers into battle?" Xasa soon grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"A just concern, son. You will undoubtedly be forced to order your brothers into battle, with no guarantee that they will survive. Our enemy may be weak, but they make up for it with tenacity and will. The only thing you can do as a leader is pray that your warriors either survive the fight, or die honorably to further our holy Covenant's cause." There was wisdom in Xasa's words. He himself was an Ultra that fought in many battles, with the scars and experience to prove it. The only reason he was here training Grunts was because of his growing ego and pride.
A single instance of speaking out of turn and veiled disrespect had been enough to earn a Zealot's ire, something that demanded retribution.
They had dueled, leading to his father's spectacular defeat. It was only the fact that he had fought so well that stayed the Zealot's blade. His father said the bastard must have had a sense of humor under his stoic gaze, for he had assigned him to a year of training Unngoy.
It was a humbling experience to say the least.
Despite his father's best efforts, Kar still held some doubts. He didn't want to lead his brothers into a slaughter like he did with the Unggoy. Xasa could see his brewing thoughts and spoke with a slightly lighter tone. "You should take heart, the Grunts you will receive are one of the finest batches I've trained, in Unggoy terms at least." He said with a low chuckle, making Kar look up at him with a huff.
"Should such news thrill me, father?" He asked, making Xasa's eyes flash with amusement before he shrugged.
"Take it as you will." There was a moment where Xasa looked uncomfortable, as if a particularly discontenting thought had soured his mood. "I simply hope you don't get a troublesome one..."
"Are Unggoy not all troublesome in some way?" Kar asked curiously, not expecting such a look to pass his father's features.
"Most of their bad habits can be stripped away with proper discipline, the one I am thinking of is...different."
"The troublesome one you were referring to?"
Xasa sighed and rubbed his neck. "Perhaps troublesome was too strong a word...abnormal would likely fit him better." Now Xasa sounded like he was hesitating, as if speaking about this Grunt was taboo in some way.
"That's still a strong way of describing a Grunt. "Kar pointed out.
Xasa gave his son a look before letting out a low sigh. "The Grunt I'm referring to is named Mizif. He is about the same as his kin in terms of body and stature, as unimpressive as the rest of their race."
"What makes him so special then?" Kar asked, making his father lean forward to continue.
"His intelligence is far beyond any of the trainees I've ever had. He has a firm understanding of how his weapons work and can field strip them in record time. This extends to his battlefield awareness and academic studies." Kar's eyes shined with interest at his words, engrossed completely as his father recounted this unusual Unggoy. "His accuracy rating with the plasma pistol is also impressive, almost as good as a Grunt Ultra. Mizif is also probably one of the only Grunts that take the training regiment seriously without needing reprimanding for slothful behavior. He has even begun to study battlefield tactics outside his training and academic sessions. He conducts himself as an exemplary soldier with a promising future."
Kar could swear he could hear an undertone of something akin to awe in his father's voice. He took a moment to speak. "While such devotion and discipline is unusual for an Unggoy, its not entirely unheard of. The Grunt Rebellion has shown us just how deadly they can be with proper motivation." Both Elites shuddered for a moment, recalling the videos of that vicious uprising. To think the Covenant was nearly laid low by the Grunts in their fury was both amazing and slightly terrifying.
"I'm not refuting that in the slightest, I've seem my fair share of brave and determined Grunts, but..." Xasa trailed off, not sure how to properly word his thoughts. "You are aware that Grunts are social creatures, creating deep bonds with their packmates?"
"Loosely, what of it?" Kar replied.
"Most if not all of the Grunts I've trained lead or inspire their kin through the idea of continued survival. They tend to unite their more craven brothers through assurance of survival so long as they fight and join together. Naturally, I assumed Mizif would do the same during a simulated combat scenario." Xasa looked very uncomfortable at the moment, speaking lowly. "Do you know what he did once one of his packmates began to panic?" He paused for a moment before narrowing his eyes. "He began overcharging his plasma pistol and aimed it at the panicking Grunt, threatening to execute him then and there if he didn't get a hold of himself."
Kar's eyes widened slightly in surprise, shocked to hear such brutality from an Unggoy. "Are the weapons not training models? He couldn't have possibly been able to carry out such a threat." Kar said after a moment.
"In most cases you would be correct, the training models are designed to be at the lowest setting possible to ensure that friendly fire does not injure trainees too severely. That is why he overcharged it." Kar's confused look made Xasa explain. "An incident a few cycles back led to a Minor in training getting severely burned, lost all of his left mandibles due to a dispute with one of his brothers. The altercation ended with one of them shooting the other with an overcharged shot from a training pistol. The fool believed that due to its low power, it would shock his fellow Minor and nothing more. On a shielded target, the shot would do little, but on an unshielded one..." Xasa let that hang in the air, making Kar's eyes widen in disbelief. He has seen just what sort of damage an overcharged plasma bolt could do to flesh and bone.
Still not believing that an Unggoy would resort to such tactics, he asked. "This was surely a bluff, a fear tactic to get his kin to fight." He saw how a few of his fellow officers threatened and even punished acts of cowardice with prejudice. Surely this was a similar scenario.
Xasa slowly shook his head. "It was not, he fully intended to kill his packmate if he turned and fled. Not a single soul in that group dared to run after that. I have never seen a Grunt lead through fear in such a way. I confronted him afterwards and demanded an explanation. I asked if he would have truly killed his own if he had ran."
Kar found himself listening with a morbid sense of interest as his father looked at him with clear disgust in his eyes, recounting Mizif's exact words. "He told me that he would have. Appalled, I asked how he could do such a sickening thing. He looked me dead in the eye and asked "Would you have lost sleep over the death of a coward? If not, why should I?"
Kar sat back in a slight daze, prompting his father to speak again. "He believed such an action was just, completely incapable of seeing just how wrong it was. I don't believe a single word I could have said would convince him otherwise. What was worse was the look in his eyes. There wasn't any sense of satisfaction or disappointment over the prospect of killing his own to maintain order. It was as if I was looking at some... puppet pretending to be a Grunt." It took a moment for Kar to identify the emotion behind his Xasa's voice.
It was fear. This battle hardened Ultra sounded genuinely unnerved while talking about Mizif. Kar wasn't sure how to feel about his proud father behaving in such a manner, but couldn't find a reason to fault him for it.
"It shames me to admit just how much Mizif unnerves me, but it cannot be helped. There is something deeply wrong with that Unggoy." Xasa's words made Kar slightly scoff, gaining his father's attention.
"While I agree his methods and thoughts are extreme, there is little reason to fear him so. He is no demon, father. Just an Unggoy who is more determined than the rest." Kar calmly said, not wishing to feed into his father's growing paranoia. He would admit, hearing such cold hearted traits coming from a Grunt did sound unnerving to a degree. That didn't mean he had any reason to fear him. The Unggoy were loyal to the Covenant, out of fear or faith. None have openly defied the Covenant or their officers since the Grunt Rebellion.
"You are correct, he is no demon..." Xasa replied lowly, narrowing his eyes with slightly clenched fists.
"He may just be something far worse..."
Those final words bounced around Kar's head as he watched the Unggoy march on, some nervously examining the ship's interior while others stayed close to their packmates for comfort. All typical and expected actions of fresh Grunt recruits.
Only one seemed completely calm, staring at the methane tank of the Grunt in front of him with no fear. There was truly nothing glaringly different about him, he was the same height as his kin and walked just like the others. His stature was the same as every Grunt Kar has ever seen.
Yet there was subtle clues that told him just who this Grunt was.
The way his packmates avoided looking in his direction, the uncaring look in his eyes even when their Sangheili officers roared orders and stomped around them. He never once flinched like the rest of his brothers.
Kar knew then and there who that Grunt was.
It was Mizif, and he was serving under one of Kar's Minors.
There was a moment where the Unggoy looked up, seemingly locking eyes with the Sangheili Major. Kar could have sworn he saw the Grunt's eyes crinkle slightly for a moment.
Mizif was smiling at him from underneath his methane mask, making a chill run down the Elite's spine despite himself.
A blink showed the Grunt standing at attention, his gaze locked forward before he followed his brethren to the armory. Kar only had a moment to ponder if his eyes were playing tricks on him before the ship's intercom came alive with the Shipmaster's voice.
"Attention all hands, we will be leaving High Charity and rejoining the Fleetmaster shortly. All warriors, prepare yourselves! We will be purging another world of human filth!"
Kar swiftly turned and made his way to the armory, shoving his unease aside.
He would soon be tested in battle once again, he refused to show such weakness to those who's lives were ultimately in his hands.
'It is time to see if I am worthy of the title of Major.' He thought to himself.
-
The Penitence left slipspace with the rest of the fleet, Ardent Atonement, quickly coming under fire from the defense fleet of Actium. Multiple Destroyers and Frigates opened up with their MAC guns, the superheated tungsten ripping through several Cruisers while draining the shields of a Supercarrier. A Battlecruiser also heavily damaged, but still clinging to life despite the major hull breach, the MAC round luckily missing any critical systems.
The Covenant fleet replied with a volley of Plasma Torpedoes, forward Plasma Turrets let loose fiery vengeance on the human fleet, melting tungsten and steel as they began to approach. Both fleets were soon trading volleys and secondary weapons fire, missiles and lances of plasma ripping through space as Seraph and Broadswords engaged each other. The UNSC fleet was outnumbered and losing ships quickly, with only a few confirmed Cruiser kills. The weakened and occupied fleet could do little to stop a few Covenant Carriers from slipping through their defensive line, disabling or destroying what they could with secondary weapons like naval guns and autocannons.
The Phantom Mizif was in lurched dangerously from a few close flak rounds, making the assembled Grunts mumble and jitter nervously while their Elite officer tightened his hold on the overhead support bar. The only few that remained composed were the Grunt Majors. A few Kig-Yar squawked in their native tongue, glancing at the Grunt Minors before checking their weapons. The slight whimpering of his kin made Mizif sigh to himself lowly.
'They could at least keep their crying to themselves...' He thought before looking at their supposed officer.
For as much as he hated his own cowardly kind, he hated the Sangheili even more. They were prideful creatures that were hyper focused on their pitiful honor. Their species spat out glory hounds and fools just as much as they made competent leaders. Most if not all of their tactics revolved around openly meeting the enemy in open combat, overwhelming enemy positions with numbers.
Said numbers were Grunt numbers, who were much more vulnerable to gunfire than their personal shield using officers. Oh how Mizif would love to get his hands on a personal shield, it would do wonders for his survivability.
Most of the data and history Mizif could find showed his bosses seemed to love deploying infantry supported by minimal aerial support, at least when it came to rapid insertions like this. They would be the spearhead for an assault on a heavily defended Human evacuation center. The Penitence was at least able to destroy most of their anti air weapons, only a few weapons were left to oppose their air units.
The Phantom shuddered for a moment as several rounds impacted its hull. Sustained fire eventually punched a hole through the belly of the gunship, ripping through and punching a clean hole through one of his packmates to his left. He felt warm blood splatter his armor and left cheek, ignoring the rapid beats of his heart to wipe the blood off. A few of his brethren flinched while those who were next to the dead Grunt let loose shocked screams.
"Compose yourselves! I will not lead a group of weaklings to battle!" The Elite Minor roared, quelling the noise soon as the pilot called out.
"We are approaching the landing zone! Brace yourselves!"
Their comms device slowly came alive with the voice of their Major Sangheili officer, Kar 'Kuhom. It was interesting to discover that their trainer's son just so happened to be their File leader.
'The Gods must be smiling down on me for giving me such a promising leader! I'm sure I can learn a lot from him!'
Despite Mizif's slight disagreement with Xasu's views, the Grunt still believed him to be a model teacher with a well of experience to draw from. Sure, he was just as honor obsessed as any other Elite, but he respected Mizif's drive to learn and grow as a soldier. He had done an excellent job in nurturing Mizif's mind to be more tactical and observant compared to his packmates. This made the idea of serving under his son so exciting to him. Proving his worth as a soldier could lead to a promotion. and a promotion would lead to better weapons, which would increase his odds of survival.
Hell, he could even be assigned to guard duty on High Charity! Nice and safe from this stupid war.
Mizif quickly paid attention as Kar spoke. "Warriors, this is your chance to prove your commitment to our Covenant! The human scourge has spread far and wide on this world! It is our duty as holy warriors to cleanse this filth in the name of our Prophets and The Great Journey! Do your forefathers and ancestors proud this day, fight well!" He shouted over the comms channel, followed by the eager roars of Sangheili Minors and the invigorated cries of his packmates.
Mizif himself didn't outwardly react, frowning slightly at the mention of "The Great Journey." He simply checked his weapon to ensure it was operational. Mizif had no reason to follow a religion that wasn't his own outside of the threat of being called a heretic and executed.
'Besides, actions speak louder than words. A good few human kills under my belt will be proof enough of my devotion.' He thought with a wicked smile under his mask, blood roaring in his ears as the Phantom finally came to a stop.
The bay doors opened, allowing Mizif to see the war torn city in the distance being hammered by a Corvette. He quickly jumped towards the ground with his peers, bending his knees upon landing and scrambling for cover as the defenders opened up from the main building of the evacuation center. A firing line of Marines scattered from cover as the Phantom's nose gun began raining plasma on them, killing those who couldn't run to the building in time.
Bullets whizzed by Mizif's face as he fired on the fleeing humans, sliding behind a smoldering sandbag barricade as more rounds flew by. Kar and Mizif's officer ran forward, firing their plasma rifles into the doorway and leading the charge into the building with Jackals close behind.
Mizif had just stood up to follow them as the last retreating human fell, revealing the mounted gun at the entrance. The chaingun spewed death and sent a Grunt in front of Mizif spiraling back as bullets tore into him. Mizif quickly grabbed the corpse mid fall, using it as a shield as he ran forward before collapsing near his officer.
The Elite glanced down at him as Mizif tossed the twitching corpse aside, checking himself for damage. A few dents and flesh wounds littered his chest, but nothing serious. He met the Elite's gaze, seeing a slight look of disapproval before the officer shouted over the sound of gunfire.
"Our shields cannot withstand such an onslaught! The humans have us pinned!"
A Grunt bravely tried to fire in, but was reduced to blue mist from the heavy weapon, falling back with the top of his head blown clean off.
Kar shouted back. "Order a small group to flank that gun from the left side! My men will take the right!"
'A pincer maneuver? How effective! Good thing I won't be the one to flank!'
His officer turned and pointed at him and four other Grunts before nodding at the two Jackals to his side. "Find an opening and flank this filth! We'll storm in once that gun has fallen silent!"
'Damn the Gods straight to hell! I knew they didn't exist!' Mizif fumed.
He nodded. "We kill big gun for master!" Mizif said before running off with the others, avoiding the windows with his small stature to climb a staircase on the side of the building.
One of his packmates couldn't help but comment. "That was first time me hear you talk like us in long time!" He chirped.
"Don't get used to it." Mizif replied sternly, forming up behind the lead Jackal as it prodded the door open slowly with its plasma pistol.
Its body lurched backwards as the loud report of a shotgun echoed. Purple blood flew through the air as the headless corpse fell, revealing a marine pumping his shotgun quickly. "Contact! We've got Covies on our-!"
Mizif fired several bolts of plasma into the human before he could shoot again, catching his gun arm and making him flinch back. The man fell back with a scream of pain, reaching for his sidearm just as the rest the flanking party moved up and fired on him. His armor was littered with burns, filling the air with the scent of burnt flesh. The other Jackal swiftly ran forward and raised his shield as shouts of alarm echoed within the hall, soon coming under fire by the dead human's squad.
Mizif and the other Grunts fired around the Jackal, claiming another kill as a DMR round punched through one of his packmates skull. Mizif paid his death no mind, pulling the trigger in short bursts to keep the enemy behind cover as they slowly advanced.
Their advance came to a halt when a bullet hit one of the Jackals feet, making it growl in pain and falter. This gave the marines an opening to send shots into the wounded Covenant soldier's side, making him frantically throw himself to cover near the pillar Mizif and another Grunt was hiding behind.
Mizif prodded the Jackal's sweating face with his foot angrily. "Get that damn shield back up and push forward!"
The Jackal replied with a harsh squawk, glaring hatefully at the annoyed Grunt while uttering curses in its own tongue. "Well if you don't want to use it, then hand it over!"
He slapped Mizif outstretched hand away and held his bleeding side, blind firing with his free hand as another Grunt fell dead from a round through the head. Mizif assessed the situation calmly, finding no other way of flanking the humans. The side passages offered no protective cover and would be too costly to move through without plasma shields.
His eyes landed on the human corpse nearby, specifically on the handgun. He quickly barked at the Grunt closest to it. "Kilik! Pass me that human pistol!"
Kilik gave him a bewildered look, but quickly did what he was told, vividly remembering the threat Mizif gave back in training. He tossed the pistol over to Mizif, who caught it and examined it for a moment. He found the trigger and aimed the gun away from it before pulling it, frowning when the weapon didn't fire. He traced his fingers over the weapon's frame, ignoring the bullets smashing against his cover.
The Grunt next to him, Flim, looked at him like he was crazy. "What you do with heretic weapon?!" Mizif's finger snagged on the magnum's safety, disabling it and making the Unggoy scoff in disbelief.
"Stupid human forgot to turn the safety off." He mumbled with irritation before stepping back.
Flim's eyes went wide when Mizif aimed the weapon at the Jackal, who had turned after overheating his pistol. His eyes widened with surprise and horror before Mizif fired, splattering the ground with purple blood. The Grunt flinched at the recoil, nearly dropping the weapon in surprise. "Well that has some kick to it..." He said lowly with a bit of elation before tossing the gun back at its previous owner.
"What the hell are you doing!? Jackal friend!"
"Jackal was a coward who couldn't use his shield. Now he doesn't need it." Mizif said casually while taking the shield unit off the body's wrist, turning it on after a bit of fumbling before turning to his shocked brethren. "I will draw their fire, you either kill them or keep them down. Understand?"
He received a few slow nods, making him take a deep breath before he ran out with the shield raised. The three humans were momentarily surprised to see the Grunt moving up on them, quickly firing on him. Mizif crouched and held the shield firmly in front of him, turtling behind it as his brothers fired on the exposed humans.
A woman fell back with a scream, her face burned horrendously as the last two vengefully fired back on the Grunts. They went back into cover as bullets flew their way. Mizif instantly stood up and advanced, firing from the opening on the side of the shield. He caught a man in the shoulder, making him kneel with a cry of pain.
His squad moved to cover him, but was nearly pelted by return fire from the now advancing Grunts. "Fuck!" He shouted, crouching back down and blind firing before his rifle clicked dry. He reached for a frag on his belt just as Mizif went around the overturned desk they were using as cover.
His fingers glanced over the fragmentation grenade just as Mizif fired an overcharged blast into his chest. It instantly melted through the marine's protective armor, cauterizing his flesh and making him writhe in agony.
His screams were swiftly cut short after Mizif vented the weapon, firing two bolts into his head.
”Neumann!” His squad mate screamed, quickly turning to glare at the Grunt hatefully. “I’ll kill you for that you hunchbacked fuck!”
The injured marine moved to fire on him, forcing Mizif to bash the rifle upwards with his stolen shield before he pressed the burning plasma pistol against the human's stomach. The first three shots burned the armor, the next two sizzled flesh, the last two went right through the gasping man.
Mizif shoved the dying human away and fired into his head.
The other Grunts walked up to him as he nodded confidently. "We're clear."
Filim raised his plasma pistol and fired to Mizif's right, killing the wounded woman who struggled to aim her magnum at the Grunt responsible for her squad's death. The disfigured marine let loose a wet gurgle before falling still. Filim looked over at Mizif and smiled. "Now we clear!"
Mizif glanced at the corpse before nodding in appreciation. "Let's keep moving, we have to take out that gun." The other Grunts followed after him, keeping their eyes open for additional humans.
Kilik slowly spoke up after a while of walking. "Hey Mizif?"
"What?" Mizif whispered.
"Will me get in trouble for giving you heretic weapon?"
Mizif glanced back at Kilik. "Did you shoot it?" He asked back.
Kilik slowly shook his head. "No..."
"Then you won't get in trouble, simple as that."
"What about what you did to Jackal?" Filim questioned, getting a faux look of confusion from the malicious Grunt.
"What do you mean? Humans got a lucky shot on him and now he's dead..." Mizif narrowed his eyes at Filim, firmly gripping his plasma pistol. "What did you think you saw, Filim?" He coldly asked. The question that was posed held the promise of pain if his fellow Unggoy didn't give him the answer he wanted.
Filim glanced at the gun before looking back up at Mizif's dangerous glare. "...Me think humans got good shot on poor Jackal." He answered with a nervous little laugh. There wasn't a Grunt in High Charity that held any love for the Kig-Yar. While this felt like borderline treason, Filim wasn't about to comment on it. He wanted to live after all, and he was less likely to die because of humans at this very moment.
No one would miss a few Jackals anyway.
Mizif grinned and patted his packmate on the shoulder. "Glad we all saw the same thing." He looked over at Kilik, getting a rapid nod from the Grunt just as machine gun fire filled their ears.
They finally came upon the gun emplacement, peering down from the second floor of what looked like some sort of lobby. At least six humans were firing down the hallway including the gunner, making a punishing wall of lead. Kar's troops had yet to push in, meaning they were dead or still dealing with whatever defenders were on their side of the building. This opportunity filled Mizif with glee. 'Getting all the credit for such a kill? I won't complain.'
"Filim, you have a good throwing arm, right?" Mizif's question made the Grunt in question nod, tilting his head curiously. "Good, toss a grenade down there and stick the gunner. We will shoot them as they scatter and pick off survivors."
Filim nodded quickly, eagerly grabbing a plasma grenade from his side before resting a finger over the activation button. He took a few quiet steps to the left near the stairway, unobstructed as he activated the grenade.
A marine who had ducked to reload noticed the blue glow out of the corner of her eyes, screaming in alarm when she caught sight of the airborne sticky. "Grenade! Camren get off the-!"
The grenade stuck itself to Camren's shoulder, making him scream out in panic and fear. "Get it off! Someone get it the hell off-!"
The grenade let out a low whine before exploding, showering the area with burning plasma and claiming two more lives that couldn't run in time. The survivors scrambled to fire up at the grunts, only to be washed by plasma fire from the now free Covenant forces. Two fell dead from combined fire from the elevated Grunts and charging Elites, making the last man scramble to cover and reach for a shotgun dropped by a dead marine.
He grabbed it and stood just in time to get a hoof in the face, cracking his skull and sending him to the ground. He slowly looked up just as the Elite Minor jumped over the desk and ignited his plasma dagger, stabbing it down into the fallen marine's heart.
He twisted the blade with a growl, watching the light fade from the man's eyes as he sputtered feebly. He ripped it out and looked up at the Grunts, giving them a nod. "Impressive work, Unggoy. Form up, we are pursuing the fleeing cowards further into their den."
The Minor ran after Kar, who stared at Mizif for a moment before pushing onward.
The Grunt smiled to himself and looked at his beaming kin. "You heard him, let's move!"
The two Grunts grinned and followed after Mizif with a resounding. "Yes leader!"
'Leader?' Mizif thought with slight surprise, glancing back at his brothers. They had weapons raised and stuck close to him, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. Their obedience and compliance to follow along with his little lie solidified something in his mind.
They were loyal to him, out of fear or admiration for his prowess, Mizif hardly knew. Their reasons hardly mattered to him, he now had unofficial soldiers willing to listen to him when things got dangerous.
A grin slowly formed on his face as he marched forward.
'How wonderful, I could always use some underlings..'