Three Guardians approach checkpoint B, weapons at the ready. Before us stands the enemy, disorganized and unaware. I snap my Grim Citizen to the ready and depress the trigger, strafing as I go. I watch the explosion of yellow numbers as my rounds arc into the heads of multiple targets. The enemy reels drunkenly, looking for the source of the onslaught, but the damage is piling up, and as they finally train their sights upon me, three are within a hairs breath of oblivion as their weapons roar belatedly to life. I drop my sight picture, hip firing as I roll away to my right. My shield catches the first few incoming bursts, but weakens quickly under the strain of multiple attackers, and I slip quickly into cover, pressing my shoulder to the sheer rock wall and reloading as I watch my two team mates roll into position, the hiss of pulse and crackle of fusion rifle spelling the demise of our already weakened opponents. I pause, willing my health and shield to regenerate, anticipating the Assist medals and zone capture to come. Surely my highly skilled, battle hardened teammates would dispatch our routed and demoralized antagonists with laughable ease? Imagine my surprise as I round the corner to observe only a sea of red and floating jolly Rogers. I jerk back into cover just as the familiar hollow yelp of Hereafter sends a finger-sized round skittering through the space where my head was moments before. My teammates are lost, and I am alone. I grit my teeth, call upon Felwinter, the Iron Lords, and the pride of the Exos as I slide into position and come up firing. Once again, the Grim Citizen speaks and sends rounds true to heads of my opponents. They dodge and weave, firing wildly in my direction as I go about my sanguine task of headhunting with steely determination and reckless disregard. Back and forth we go, firing and dancing, 3 against one. Targets weave across my vision, precision damage like petals in the wind, but they will not fall. Shield long since failed, my vision tunnels into red as the bolt slams home on an empty mag. I move to reload, more by instinct than by choice, as my vision fades and I watch the muzzle of a Hawkmoon swing it's deadly eye to bear upon me with excruciating slowness, as my opponent lines up his coup de grace. But lo! I have bee so intent upon death with honor, I do not see the two swift dots of blue, converging upon my position like eagles stooping from up on high. I fall to one knee and look up through a haze of blood as an enormous void field whooshes over my head at the same moment as Long Far Gone rattles to life on my right, loosing it's sun-drenched fury and disintegrating my erstwhile nemesis, Hawkmoon falling from his ashen grip as his compatriots are consumed in a vortex of indigo annihilation. Assist +150. Edit: thanks for the compliments guys. Good competitive play in iron banner last night, and it's too bad that a game with such fertile ground for great storytelling has such a lack of it. These little vignettes are quick and fun-I might do a few more if you guys like them. Edit 2: Here's another, a bit longer with a different flavor. Feedback welcome! https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/209462392/0/0