Meanwhile, Wesson was making sport of his enemy's torment. To him, watching the fallen panic as he picked them off one by one was fairly amusing. Nonetheless, he was reminded of his original mission when he saw the Kings' walker stumble back to its feet. "I guess play time is over." Wesson said to himself before taking off toward the remains of an old ship. It would be his last source of cover before he would have to cross an open field to reach the tank's position. He knew he had to drop the tank here, so he reloaded his sniper and crawled to the nearest window. Steadily he rose up, lined the tank up in his scope, and pulled the trigger three times. But the gun only fired two shots. It was the click on the third pull that told him he was out of ammo. Immediately, he dropped to the floor to check all available magazines, and sure enough he had exhausted all 17 rounds that he was originally carrying. "Hey Art!" He yelled, "I need snipes!" But Aristotle was not there to respond. Wesson had forgotten that he had left Aristotle far behind. This was bad because he relied on Aristotle to carry extra reserves of ammo as well as synthesizing it from enemy armaments. No rocket, no machine gun, and now he had no sniper ammo. All he had left was an auto rifle and his Bolt Caster, and he was well out of their effective range. "Well, let's do this." He said rather nervously. Thank you all for reading. Table of Contents [url]https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/178085398/0/0[/url]