[Continuation of the first part. Both stories are tied to each other. Looking for constructive feedback. If there are any inconsistencies please bring them to my attention. NOTE: This is a time before the ghosts, guardians could not be revived in combat.] Years had passed. I didn’t arrive in the city until just a few years before… I was no guardian, but I was still a hunter. One doesn’t need to have powers to know how to hunt, how to kill. I’d fallen into a group of real guardians, ones who knew how to call forth the light of the traveler. However, not being a guardian didn’t make me useless. I could still throw my knife, and I was right on par with some of the best hunters when it came to knife fighting. I earned my keep on their team, and I wore a Hunter’s armor scavenged off of the corpses of other guardians. Those days weren’t so bad, they helped me find more about Captain Reche, the one who killed my mother. Every day out in the field drew me one step closer to tracking and avenging her death. The Guardians I had been working with not only helped me survive longer, they filled a hole in my life that had been empty. We were a pack: Moira, Guntz, and myself. Together we formed a fire team like any other, but certainly not any worse. All of us had something unique that distinguished us from most guardians… We had all been outside the wall on our own for longer than a year. Moira was separated from her unit and later learned that they had died. She was left to wait for support that never came. We never liked one another, but we held a mutual respect. For a human Warlock, she held up pretty tough in the wild. I found her first and ran with her until we stumbled onto Guntz. In an abandoned military facility, a lone Titan stood guard. This lumbering Exo patrolled an abandoned military outpost used during the first war, fighting whatever was left of the Hive and guarding the secrets in the base. Moira and I had gone out on a supply run and found the clunker wandering empty halls… All this time, Guntz knew that he could leave and return to the city, but something kept him there. We ended up in a pinch that resulted in destroying the facility and whatever secrets Guntz was guarding—the Hive were rooted in deep, and Guntz wasn’t leaving until we dealt with them. “What was he guarding?” Dink interrupts my train of thought, causing me to point the tip of the knife against him. “That’s a different story. Now shut it. I’m answering your question. Why’s this so important to you anyway?” “Just an observation, but you’re angry all the time. The speaker says we can learn a lot of our guardians by finding out—“ “Look, this little bonding experiment is a wasting of time for both of us. As I was saying…” The night that I died, my rage caused our cohesion to spiral into calamity. The impulse to avenge my mother led to our deaths. We were sent to patrol the edge of wall of the Cosmodrome. Being on the outside with less than six guardians was a bold move for any guardian—But to the three of us, this was our home. A deal had been struck in secret; The Future War Cult sent us to meet a group Fallen raiders–ones that wore steel-blue cloaks. They were the ones who planted the seed of darkness into my heart; the raiding party was led by Captain Reche: The House of Winter. In exchange for some of their weapons, we were going to trade a portion of territory that we kept as storage for Golden Age Artifacts—it was a glorified scrap yard for derelict technology we'd never use again. Nostalgic rubbish from our shattered past. The night air was crisp, there was no moon, and they had the advantage in both tactics and number. Aside from knowing the land, our only trump card we held was a beacon. This beacon would call down an artillery strike from behind the wall with only a few seconds delay. Behind the steel monolith, Twenty-eight barrels pointed at the sky ready to rain down solar hellfire. They were manned by an all-female Titan unit, the guns of the 28th Legion Bombardiers... “The Boom Kitties”. I hated this; having to deal with those arachnid vermin just because Moira was convinced we could gain an upper hand. She believed that procuring a cache of their exotic plasma weapons would put better weapons in the hands of the guardians. Warlocks and their thirst for knowledge... They seldom question the price of their arrogance, besides, despite using primitive projectiles we still manage to kill them just fine. Reche was my only motive for being there. “You must survive Valias!” I still hear her screams in the back of my mind each night. Not a morning passes that I don’t wake up clenching the hilt of my father’s knife. “You’re late Guardians” “We took our time getting here. Had to make sure we knew we were walking into an ambush.” Moira said. She was always too cocky, even in the face of danger. Tonight, I wasn't any better. “Did you bring the weapons or not insect?” I asked, breaking ranks as Guntz, set a metal hand on my shoulder. I saw the Fallen lifting their weapons but I only realized why after Guntz's other hand held my wrist. I was reaching for Ganon, my father’s hand cannon. It was an uncanny thing and had an aura about it that had saved me too many times to count; finish an enemy and feel new strength flow through you. I always felt like it was my father helping me, somehow, I knew he watched from whatever realm his soul took rest. My arm slid back up and Moira shot me chilling glare before turning back to face Reche. “You don't come unarmed as we had agreed.” Reche chortled. “And you came with more than three soldiers. The tables are even, our deal still stands. The weapons or we walk—with the key card to our scrapyard.” “I came with two! These Dregs are swill, hardly soldiers in the eyes of any Fallen... Besides. They carry the weapons you desire.” Reche turns to one of his Vandals and utters something in fallen, the Vandal then grunts a set of orders over his shoulder and four Dregs lumber up from behind them heaving four large chests. “Give us the key, take them, and be gone. Or we could just kill you where you stand and take the key. Makes no difference.” Even in the night, I could see the way their cloaks rustled whenever they moved. There was no way I was wrong, this had to be them… “You'll just do that anyway.” I retort, this time, Guntz isn't quick enough to stop me. I feel my blood boiling, surging through me as I recall all four of Reche’s hands plucking my mother's head from her shoulders and tossing it like a bad memory. My other hand grips hilt of my blade and a whispering breeze urges me to move, adrenaline pushing speed into my limbs. My rage overtakes me and in my sprint and I hurl the knife toward one of the Vandals. The Vandal falls dead, the knife lodged in its head. Before the body hits the ground, I retrieve it as I move into their ranks. Reche yells to his troops and uses a few of his Dregs for cover. I can hear the plasma being discharged from all around, but I don’t stop my advance. Guntz's LMG shakes the air as each round leaves the barrel and mows down the ambushing Dregs and Shanks. They leap from the shadows of skeleton cars and behind the boulders that overlook our clearing. I wished that Moira hadn’t been right, but she was. She was always right... Damn space fairies. However, Moira still wasn't one to walk away from a prize. Niether was I. [continued in next post.]