I pull out an old rocket launcher, formerly white and gold. It still has that inner luster of a relic forgotten, a once formidable force. I brush off a side of it. The Crux/Lomar symbol is seen. A single tear runs down my masked face. I drop to one knee and look at Oryx with the rocket on my shoulder. I look through the yellow orange sight and lock on to the dead enemy. Another tear is shed before I fire. I watch the rocket chase the floating monstrosity. When the rocket explodes I turn my back hearing the wolf pack burst from the rocket. The pack is hunting.