"Yo. Why don't we just port in like the other guys?" Bishop was asking over the roar of engines as I guided their [i]A4H-Squall[/i] toward the landing zone. There were places to sit inside, but none of them did. They all stood, each member holding on to a 'safety' rung near to the open sides. Fault and Bishop at least had the sense to keep a hand free unless they fell. Though Bishop's attention as directed to a sensor readout on his right arm, and Fault was answering a call from the Tower. Eagle was using his rifle's scope to look closely at the base they were approaching, a remarkably steady hand allowing him to use the scope's zoom via an in helmet display to perform on the spot recon. "...what're you talking about?" Fault muttered, mostly distracted. "The other Guardians or whatever. I always seem them drop in from nowhere. Just sort of materialize where it's convenient. Why don't we just do that?" Bishop clarified, looking around the cabin at the others. "Think their Ghosts help them do that." Ricochet replied. "Distance?" "Close-ish. I could hit something from here." Eagle replied plainly. "You can get a kill shot from here with that thing? Nasty." Ricochet sounded impressed. "I said I could hit something. Might be a target. Might be a rock. Might be a rock that looks like a target. That's the fun." If any of Eagle's remarks are ever humorous, it is because he delivers them so humorlessly. "Don't we have a Ghost?" Bishop pressed. "Yo Diss. Babe. What's good with some teleport magic?" "Magic?" I asked immediately. "I don't do magic." "You don't do much of anything." Ricochet weighed in. I really don't know why I tolerate them. "I [i]could[/i]. I have many possible functions and additional utility. You all seem content to go about courses of action uninformed and without aid. I wouldn't want to ruin that chemistry." As adaptive as they are, they are rather insular. Months with them, through numerous battles, and I was still an outsider among them. "If you don't have magic, we don't have chemistry." Fault spoke up finally. "No, not you." And he was still speaking to whomever he was speaking to back at the tower. I adjusted the angle of approach slightly. The roar of the engines quieted some, and we broke through a last bank of wispy Martian cloud into full view of the outpost. "Fine. To answer Bishop, I am quite capable of short range translocation---though I would need to send you all to the same place. I am also able to reconstitute you into a useful condition once you have sustained significant damage. Though this would take a great deal of energy on my part, and all of you to be nearby." As I compensated for a sudden crosswind, I delivered at long last a basic summary of my abilities. "We get a rez. Sick. We're officially badass." Now I had Fault's attention. "I'm a 'badass'. You need me to do it." I clarified. "Yeah yeah you're cool too Diss. Points babe. I've got twenty kay on Ric being the first one to have to test out the rez." Bishop quipped, a grin on his voice. "Don't even lie big guy, you've got this thing about trying to tackle tanks..." "Have I died before? No. Not gonna be me. You're the one who is surprised by every shotgun you run directly into." I knew they were going to start bickering again. "You were dead when I found you. All of you." I corrected. "Was a bad day." Fault, as if that explained it away. "Thirty five." Eagle broke in briskly, and finally stowed his rifle on his back. Looking down out of the side, preparing to jump. His count was off, though. At that distance, they would have needed another minute and a half. Not thirty five seconds. "Incoming message---it's from Fox. Shall I put her through?" As I dipped the Squall through another crosswind, cresting a towering sand dune at a pace which ignored several safety alarms. It was the silenced alarms trilling through my systems, or their whining for my not flying fast enough. "We're going to be busy here in a moment." Eagle remarked, a shrug in his town. "Twenty seconds." "Put her through." Ricochet decided. At my consent, Fox's voice filled their helmets instantly. "Oh you're here! Good. I had a bit of an issue with---well I talked to Ricochet about it before. My, um, my employment issue? That definitely became a problem! You were right! Things escalated a bit, and I [i]might[/i] have discovered that the reason for this Cabal outpost is because it's built upon some [i]really [/i]old ruins. Older than Golden Age! Exciting right? Here's where you come in. I've sort of locked myself in a chamber in here, Cabal can't seem to get in but they're [i]probably[/i] not going to just let you fill out the sign out sheet and take me back home. The good news is, I'm pretty sure my---now former---employer thinks I'm dead down here! Everyone wins! Once you get me out that is. Thanks guys!" And then she cut the signal. Why I didn't think there was anything amiss with this particular request, I'll never know. Maybe my senses were dulled by too much time with the 'boys'. They aren't a very complex lot. Whereas everyone who drifts their way seems nearly drowned in their own intricacies and motives. "Who locks themselves [i]in[/i]? Come on." Bishop muttered. "Time's up." Eagle spoke up again. He was answered with a grunt of response from Ricochet. And then all four of them abruptly stepped off of the side of the Squall. I scarcely had time to re adjust myself into all of their systems individually, and abandon control of the Squall, before the vehicle began screaming a warning of missile lock and the storm of destruction from below streaked up to demolish the craft. The destruction they met the Cabal's first volley with was, to a degree I think was somehow intentional, exponentially more intense. Ricochet skipped and bounced down the steep side of a dune leading into the base, managing to collected his feet under him near the very bottom in time to orient and push off with help of his thrusters. He slammed into a Phalanx just moving its shield into position, grabbing the slab of metal as he continued on past it to twist and then wrench sickeningly the arm it was attached to, landing with a sparking skid on his armored boots while tossing a grenade sidelong at another and using the body of the first Phalanx and its shield to guard him from a sudden storm of fire from the other side. Bishop hit the dusty hill and vanished---and then he was beside those firing on Ricochet, cleaving an arm off with a swipe, sidestepping a smashing melee attempt by a Phalanx, then sprinting up its shield to drive his sword between its eyes before vanishing again. Eagle had apparently equipped explosive rounds in his rifle. He fired, the detonation set a Centurion to taking a reeling step backward. The next blew open its chest. The next transformed the right half of a Legionary's armored body into a crater of splintered metal and burned flesh. The next struck a Phalanx who was turning to fend of Ricochet (who had thrown his now stolen shield at it) in the side of his head and splattered the contents of its upper body on the inside of that protective sheet of metal. Eagle had been firing while sliding down the dune. Somehow controlled, somehow unbothered by both this and being fired upon. Fault was still in the air. Hanging there in his descent, just under the smoky streaks from the missiles which destroyed their craft. They probably didn't even see him up there, the Cabal. This frontal assault was devastating, and made short work of the front lines of the outpost they'd spilled into from a flank... but still would have been suicidal if sustained this way. The Cabal respond quickly. Two Collossi were thunking into position, targeting missiles and warming up their chain guns. I felt the surge when Fault pulled his arms out to each side. I felt him reach out through his systems to the Light, felt it respond, and felt him suddenly rip the energy he needed from its grasp and into his own control. Each of their talents, in play with their obvious faults, seems to require some level of immutable genius. The Warlocks of the tower can say what they will about Fault. But he, like the others, is very good at what he does. To the point of destructive efficiency which makes a mockery of those posturing at their talents being art. He cycled that surge through his armor, demonstrating all at once why he'd been so concerned with balance. Because all at once, this Guardian could become [b]un[/b] balanced. And when he did, the universe around him shook in response. He forced the Light in a circuit loop through himself, pushed his hands forward to give an open channel, and sped up the cyclic transfer to a degree that tore space between his hands. Tearing it apart, causing a Void collapse which turned a golden streaming torrent of energy into a roiling sphere of violet light. A twitch of his fingers stabilized the field, containing it---at least temporarily. When it struck the ground, the detonation was of contained Light and the distortion of the field he'd created. It destroyed both Collossi instantly. It blasted and ripped apart the ground, the very fabric of space they inhabited. It was overkill. The group collectively cheered and laughed about the chaos. This was the first time I ever saw a Cabal defense battalion falter at an initial assault.