Note: I have returned from my time in the penalty box, it's silence allowing me to crafe the ultimate tool of vengeance and terror: fan-fiction. Figured I'd try my hand at making a story instead of calling other story writer's moms classy ladies for a bit. Archive: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/242853482/0/0 [spoiler]And yes, continuations will be made in shorter posts. Much has already been written and is simply awaiting grouping.[/spoiler] ............................. The headset blares a high-pitched whine as it sparks to life. The result of far too many collisions to a helmet long overdue for replacement. Having never heard the peircing sounds of an abused receiver, Patterson reflexively grips the sides of his head in an attempt to block out the squealing. "[i]Relax[/i]," said the foreign soldier as he tapped the general area of his faulty ear-piece. "[i]Just a bit banged up. Figured you scribes would love to this old tech.[/i]" After beating the receiver into submission, the soldier redirects his attention back to the incoming signal. "[i]Say again? Comms went haywire for a second there.[/i]" A familiar female voice responds, her nerves masked well behind a facade of optimism, "What's your progress? Lee and I have patched up some of the control stuff, but we can't do anything with them until you get the power back on." "[i]I don't know. Pat, where are we?[/i]" the Gear said, lazily rolling his head to put the Warlock in view. "Salvage hanger. Just a stone's throw from engineering. Ketch is pretty messed up though, so it might take some time to sort things out..." "Fair warning:" Lee butts in, "just because we ain't seen anything in here since yesterday doesn't mean this place is empty. Just keep your gun ready and your head on a swivel." "[i]Like it wasn't already. We'll get back in one piece, okay? Will let you know when we're in engineering.[/i]" And with that, the line went silent. Patterson glanced at the soldier as they both proceeded further into the ketch. "Alright," Patterson said, eagerly breaking the silence, "Bee said she'd explain later but it's eating at me now: what's your deal?" "[i]Can you be more specific?[/i]" "Your armor, weapons, Bee claiming to know you... we went from picking up an odd call in a lifeless patrol zone to waging war with everything on the planet within two days of finding you." "[i]Well to start, she's my little sister, and...[/i]" The answer was cut off by the sudden failure of emergency lighting, leaving the Warlock and the Gear with nothing but a ghost to light the hanger. A low roar fills the empty air before it's joined by countless others. Surrounded by the bellowings of hatred and hunger, Patterson takes a nervous, yet deliberate step back in preparation for a fight as the Onyx Guard pulls a handle on the side of his rifle. The sound of an engine fires before falling into a rythmic sputter as teeth along the bayonet's chain dully glint in the ghost's light. ..................................... On the flight deck, Bee and Lee are looking through terminals, trying to salvage anything that could help pilot the ketch or at least get it airborne. Bee of course being delegated to door duty after the traditional titan solution of "punch it 'til it gives" failed to repair any of the flight systems. "You hear something?" Lee asks as he peers around the side of a terminal station. "No... did you?" Bee replied, concerned. He pauses and leans foward in search of anything unusual "Must be hearing things again," Lee shrugged. "Still not going to ask why we need a ketch?" "Nah. None of you can keep your mouths shut, so I'll find out eventually," the old hunter said, waving his hand to mock a gesture of enthusiasm. "Jackson," he called shifting his focus back to the task at hand. A jittering, fractured ghost fabricates itself into existence to converse with Lee face to face. "Can you check the connections again? Want to make sure the lines are all secure." "A jump start won't get this bucket off the ground, nor are you supposed to be playing with faulty wires anymore," the ghost replied with an all too common hint of pessimism, or possibly sarcasm. It's becoming difficult for Lee to tell the difference. Lee lowered his head with a sigh of frustration and fatigue. "Humor me," he retorted before looking up to see the ghost had already begun checking over the wiring. All at once, the emergency lighting cut off. The ghosts of the two guardians shine spotlights to break through the darkness. A dim clanging of metal on metal can be heard down the long corridor separating the flight deck from the rest of the ship. The clanging steadily grows louder and more numerous as the two guardians ready their weapons and train them through the open doorway. Lee chuckles softly to himself and nods his head slightly in Bee's direction to mumble, "the funnel of love..." before tossing a trip mine down the corridor. At the firing tone of the detonator, both guardians pull their trigger in almost perfect unison; unloading their weapons into the howling mass of shadows.