Alright. So I enjoy amateur writing, and since I named my Hunter Drath I thought I'd write about his final moments before his death and revival. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Drath set down on his haunches, looking around. He was surrounded by snow everywhere he looked, a blizzard of blinding white. He could make out, vaguely the cracked shapes and shattered shapes of ruined cars, the graves of dozens killed in the opening days of the war with the Fallen. There was also a sloping hill to the left and flat plains and the broken wall to the right. He could see two other humanoid shapes. A female human, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes beneath her clothes, a pistol clutched in her palm, her body covered from head to toe, goggles covering her eyes. She waited for Drath, scanning the environment on their left. A large male robot, with a large assault rifle clutched in his hands. He wore trousers and a shirt only for appearance, not practicality. He was an Exo, a human built robot. He lay prone, his own glowing blue ‘eyes’ scanning Drath’s right flank. They were deep set into his solid, flat black face, his skull had an antennae strapped to his right. Drath and his compatriots weren’t the infamous Guardians who watched over all that was good in the solar system, but they and their village still did good, taking down roving Fallen and helping the Guardians unthanked. He himself carried a bust up scout rifle looted from a Guardian they found, as he didn’t need it anymore and they couldn’t afford the luxury of respecting the dead. He looked at some tracks at his feet. Fallen. But in this blizzard they couldn’t have been far awa-He looked up and saw the streak of blue arc light. “FALLEN!” He cried, hurling himself down. “Sound off!” He heard one reply in a crackling robotic voice “Unit 7!” “Ashley?” He called. No answer. She was dead, damn. He looked down the scope. They were up on the hill, two of them. A sniper and his Dreg spotter. He called out their location and snapped off some shots as a gesture to Unit 7. One hit the Dreg and it stumbled, crying out in surprise at the non-Guardians rapid response but otherwise unharmed, until Unit 7 hurled a burst into its skull. Drath bolted behind a car as cover, as did Unit 7 the cars down. Drath loosed a shot at the Vandal sniper but was thrown of completely by a panicked burst of fire from Unit 7, and violent struggling followed by a loud cracking sound. Drath spun, Unit 7 wasn’t there, but his head was. “-Blam-ing hell!” Drath scanned all around until he saw a faint shimmer in the air, Stealth Vandal. He let off one shot before it grabbed the gun in its two spare arms and yanked it away from him. Drath drew his knife quickly and stabbed it up at the vandal’s chin. The Vandal was faster leaping away with what almost sounded like a cruel laugh. Drath was thrown to the ground, intense pain flooding his senses and the smell of burning flesh, he immediately knew the sniper had hit him. He saw the vandal take his scout rifle, snap off the barrel and hang it next to Unit 7’s Assault rifle’s barrel in a belt of gun barrels. It walked away and Drath lay there for almost a minute of agony before the pain and cold overwhelmed him…