And the rest of part one, yay! Saint-14 stood still for a moment longer, letting the possibilities flit through his processors. His Ghost asked something, even a Titan near him asked something, but they were ignored outright. There was a probability to run. Maximize positive outcome, minimize casualties, minimize subordinates disciplined… He said quietly under his breath, “Five, at most six…” He turned and stared at the three Titans close behind him, still ignoring anything that had been said. “Vell, Krace, Yvette, you have your orders from Lord Shaxx; you can return to the Wall. It’s that or ready your weapons and grab as much ammo on the way as you can carry.” He turned away and started walking again as if nothing had changed. “And find me a Warlock.” “A Praxic, sir?” Krace came jogging up along his field commander. The fellow Titan was young, too young for the preference of most. That could have been the reason for his audacious blood red armor and the Mandarin symbols for God of War painted on his chest. He was too ambitious, too ready for a war, and surprisingly perfect for what his commander intended. Saint’s brow furrowed even though no one could see it. “By the Traveler, no. I need a Voidwalker. If anything, I need Ikora Rey before she started working with Shaxx.” “I know of an Awoken.” The maroon and black Titan strode up to his leader’s opposite side, keeping pace. His voice was even like Saint’s, but human. Vell Tarlowe was known as the Messenger; though, he had never had a position that would suggest such. The middle-aged man had been on sixty-three expeditions since the City’s founding; he was the sole survivor on fifteen of them and the Messenger who brought back the news each time. It had caused a level of detachment that rivaled that of the most antisocial Exos. “Unreliable to say the least. Doesn’t use his own name; says it’s only for the Reef to know.” Yvette, an Awoken herself, jogged up beside Vell and replied, “First or second generation then, names don’t really matter though, do they? Can he kill some tā mā de Fallen?” They could all hear the smile in her voice. Her green armor was particularly stained in ether, showing her penchant for hand to hand combat. “Not like you, but he’s killed many over my shoulder over the years.” Vell turned his head to Saint-14 for approval. The Exo never broke stride, never turned away from his path. “Open a direct line to him through your Ghost; we do not need to broadcast our plans.” Vell moved his hand to his helmet and fell back a step to contact the Warlock without disturbing the others. There was a moment of quiet among the group, an understanding as to what they were about to attempt. That moment was broken for Saint-14 as his Ghost piped up, “Sir, you have a direct communication coming from the Wall.” “From who Ghost?” “It appears to be from a fellow Exo, goes by… Cayde-5, a Hunter I believe, sir.” The Ghost materialized in front of its companion, moving at speed. “Should I patch him through?” “Go ahead.” A loud, over-eager voice filled Saint-14’s helmet, “Hey there Commander Saint, sir. This is Cayde-5, I-” Saint turned the volume down slightly with a quick hand gesture to his Ghost and cut off the other, “My Ghost already told me who you are, Hunter. What do you need?” There was an accent to the voice that responded, as if the Hunter had been programmed to harken back to pre-Golden age dialects. “Well sir, I heard your order and I heard Lord Shaxx’s order. Seems to me that all of the Chain members are heading back here, helping each other or cheering. Then, can you guess my surprise when I see four Titans, in my scope, heading exactly where you said to rendezvous. My Ghost confirmed that it was you for me.” Saint’s jaw tightened. They needed a head start before anyone at the City noticed; they needed time. “Where are you going with this, Cayde?” The same accent responded very quietly, “You’re off to kill some Fallen, aren’t you?” “And if we are? Going to report to Shaxx?” Saint could feel his hand tighten around the grip of his rifle, readying the order to sprint if need be. “I’d really prefer not; no, I want to come shoot some húndàn with you.” There was a laugh on the line as the field commander thought. “I do not seem to have a choice, do I? If you can steal away without being missed, you can provide cover.” Back at the Wall, Cayde-5 pulled away from his scope and said in disgust, “Provide cover? That’s it? Come on, you’ll need more than that.” When there was only silence on the other end, the Hunter looked back into his scope and said, “Fine, but honestly, how the hell am I going to see you people in a group of Fallen? Aside from Mr. Gaudy Blood Red there, if you get mobbed, I won’t know where to shoot. You know how much of a pìgu I’ll feel like if I shoot a Dreg and end up downing one of you all too?” There was no response, but Cayde watched the group move in his scope. Saint-14 pointed into some rubble and the four jogged to it. They began sifting through the ruins of a building, finding pieces of Frames, furniture, and even a skeleton in the rocks. The group seemed to pull four poles out of the debris with something on them. From the angle, the Hunter couldn’t initially tell what they were. Saint then borrowed Yvette’s fusion rifle, snapped one of the poles apart, and fired the rifle. “What in the Traveler’s Light is he…” Cayde looked up from his scope again to glace at his Ghost, which did its best to make a shrug. He sighed and put his eye to the scope again and let his jaw go slack as he realized what was happening. The Hunter watched Saint lift the broken end of a broom above his head, tip melted by the gun, and jam it into the top of his helmet until it cooled and hardened. Saint-14’s calm voice answered back, “This should be sufficient.” Thank you again so much for your time!