0051 hours, 9th October, 2549 (Military Calendar)
Tau Ceti System, Lower Kilrathian Forest
Planet Diogenes

The breeze slowly sifted through the forest, mingling with the calls of the night animals to create a tune that could almost be called a melody. Above, the stars twinkled in the night sky, in constellations that were never seen or imagined on Earth. Joining the stars in the sky were two moons, vast and bright, like two brilliant, large pearls. A peaceful, serene landscape.

Normally.

But there was more. The stars were obscured by thick, black smoke, fed by distant fires. The sky was lit by bright flashes, the thunder of clashing titans in the heavens. The melody of the forest was punctuated by distant rumbles. And in a small valley, beneath a large tree, hidden in shadows, were the dark forms of sleeping Grunts.

The Grunts had fed well the previous day, gorging on what the Jackals had not eaten. Sinew and tough muscle were not the tastiest parts of the humans, but food was food, and anything was better than their rations. So now they slept soundly on full stomachs, not stirring.

Nearby, a large shadow moved toward them. In the dim light, the shadow slowly shaped itself into several tall shadows, then several tall humanoid shadows, then finally several tall humanoid figures in gleaming armor.

Elites.

The Elites strode towards the Grunts, plasma rifles at ease. It was routine to check on the lower ranks every now and then, but there wasn’t really a reason for it. The front lines were hundreds of miles away, so what could happen? When the trio reached the tree, two held back and started chatting about other matters, and the third one stepped forward.

The first thing he noticed was that the Grunts weren’t moving. No shifting to get comfortable, no murmurs to indicate dreams. Just the stillness of death.

The Elite rushed forward, kneeling beside one of the Grunts. To his horror, there were slash marks on the Methane tanks, and puddles of bubbling liquid on the ground. The liquid methane was boiling into the atmosphere. One spark, a single flame, would ignite the gas and kill them all. No, one spark would kill only the Elites. The Grunts were already dead from asphyxiation.

The Elite stood up, somehow unable to breathe. Whether it was from fear or the methane, he couldn’t tell. Every instinct told him to turn and run, but he could only stand there, petrified.

A distant sound broke the spell and caused the Elite to turn. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shot from a plasma pistol streak through the night and enter the invisible cloud of methane. As time seemed to slow down, the plasma seemed to blossom, like a beautiful rose. A red, orange, and yellow multifoliate rose. The rose expanded to envelop them all within its blazing petals. The Elite screamed, his voice lost in the roaring of the fire.

The Combined Gas Law says that if the temperature of a gas increases, the volume of the gas must increase also. The temperature of the air had increased exponentially, so the volume of the gas must increase exponentially.

Explosively.

The explosion consumed the Elites and the Grunts, then it expanded outwards, devouring everything in its wake. Grass withered and caught fire. Bushes smoked and then burst into flame. Trees shattered from the blast wave, then fueled the fire. The fireball billowed, twisting and churning like a nightmare from hell… and then it died out. The rumbling sound died off in the distance, leaving only the flickering flames dancing with the shadows.

At first, nothing stirred in the valley. The wildlife, so noisy at night, was silent. The only animate things were the dancing flames and their partners, the shadows. One minute passed. And another. Then, a shadow detached itself from the trees and slowly walked towards the conflagration. It was a human soldier, clad in black, armed with a sniper rifle. His right eye and most of his forehead was covered with a HMD eyepiece, wirelessly linked directly to the scope of his sniper rifle. The soldier stopped just short of the conflagration, slowly sweeping the scene with his visible eye, taking in all the destruction he had caused with grim satisfaction. The stoic expression on his face could have been carved in stone, so unchanging it was...

Then the Marine laughed. It sounded unearthly, a laugh of a tortured soul instead of flesh and blood. It was low, dry, rasping like a dying man, cynical from years of fighting death. The laugh echoed throughout the valley, and was lost in the roaring flames, a fitting end to the macabre joke.

Having seen everything he wanted to see, the Marine turned and confidently strode off into the darkness.

AN: My first fanfic. I've got about half the story written out, and it gets better. I'll try to update as often as possible. Please review the story, thank you.

I hope you enjoy it.

Note: a disclaimer in Hiaku form:

Bungie owns Halo

And Microsoft owns Bungie

But I own nothing.