Assuming I had a house, I would get my wife and kids in the basement, I'd kiss my wife(she can have the pistol), and then I'd sit outside the front door with the knife; waiting, praying. Then a squad of Jackals would come over the hill. I'd get up sprinting, the Jackals spraying me with green plasma fire. My flesh would turn to ashes under the molten barrage, but as I run I would get just close enough to look one in the eye. I see no hatred in the avian visage. Only blind faith. The alien aggressors have only passionate faith that the genocide they are committing is pleasurable to the gods, and in that they justify their actions. As I fall the knife slips from my hands. The bird creatures surround my broken form like a pack of wolves. They cackle. A sangheili approaches his squadron to inspect their kill. The elite is honorable. He respects the bravery of this simple human civilian. The towering creature studies my nearby weapon; small and ineffective compared to the Covenants advanced plasma armaments. The elite decides to give me the highest honor he can bear. He picks up the blade. I can feel my soul slipping from the wounded flesh. As the creature drives the sliver of metal with deadly force towards my vulnerable skull, in faith I offer up a final prayer "Dear God Please let my Wife fare Better with the Pistol"
[Edited on 03.31.2012 5:21 PM PDT]