The following account is 100% factual. I never knew you could love a weapon. But when I laid hands upon her I knew she was something different. The pre-Golden Age data of fury in married women must have been bottled and injected into her projectile fluid. I don't mean to be jovial in this description but one quarter of the time she has a wrath in her damage that doesn't care if it meets the head. Like a shark she tastes blood and craves for more and stabilizes for the kill. Though her aim was already true enough. So good that you'd think she lived with the Vex. But all of this love was the eye of the storm of my fury. For the day before this, I went numb. Distracted by the celebration for the lost I entered a trance. When I came to in the commotion and excitement..... She was gone. I checked my entire vault. I asked my associates and they hadn't her in there's either. My worst fears began to swell up inside me as I felt like my stomach would eat my throat. I'd dismantled her. I had to get some sleep. I couldn't think. After a few hours rest I began to clear my head and tried to remember what had happened. One image couldn't escape my mind. The image of Banshee, who'd become close to me during the past moon, looking at me with that hideous mask of that bastard Rahool on his face. I don't know what it means but that image consumes me. And then I realize. When I go to pick up my orders. I check through this weeks offerings. Hakke only. This seems off. "No Omolon snipers today boss?" I asked nonchalantly. "Why would there be?" I sensed a tone of conflict in his voice. The comment struck in me like a round in a Vex power block. I could see it through his mask. Something was going on. And I don't know why, but something has decided it needs to keep me from my beautiful Eirene. I will get to the meaning of this. "Hmmmm.... Just wondering" I pack my weapons and take off for my ship. To be continued.....