A blue trail of acrid smoke wafted from the barrel of the hand cannon. The body of yet another mindless dreg clutched at an empty space where its face used to be as it slumped to the ground. “Well then,” said the Titan. “I believe that’s the last of them. The New Monarchy should be pleased with the butcher’s bill for this run, eh Ghost?” “Indeed. I’ll inform Executor Hideo immediately. Should bring a nice reward.” Our intrepid Titan scanned the horizon of the barren moonscape. There was always a need for more helium filaments. Was that glow in the distance… “I’m receiving a missive from the Executor,” Ghost interjected, his dulcet tones simultaneously cloying and apathetic. “He requests your presence back at the tower to discuss your recent exploits. Apparently you've risen in the ranks of the New Monarchy.” “Rank three at last?” queried our Titan. “Finally! A sampling of the legendary weaponry from their armory will be mine!” “It would be nice if you could acquire an assault rifle to compliment the armor you purchased from the vanguard several weeks ago. Increased reload speed for a weapon you still don’t have, what a waste…” mumbled Ghost “Soon my quasi lifeless friend…Soon. Let us take to the skies and to the tower! “Huzzah!” They exclaimed together. It was really cool and then they froze in mutual rejoicing for like 10 seconds while some credits rolled. Then a servitor spawned and started shooting at them, so they finally high tailed it. Back at the tower… The Executor brooked no nonsense. At the Titan’s approach he appraised him with a cool glance and a raised eyebrow. “Executor Hideo, sir. I understand you wanted to see me?” “Yes, titan. I’m quite busy, so you’ll excuse me if I dispense with the elaborate pleasantries that someone of your newly attained rank would otherwise deserve. Quite simply I have asked you here today to offer you official congratulations for achieving your new rank. To show you how we at the New Monarchy value your dedication to the cause, a gift has been left for you at the post master.” With that the executor turned away to sell an emblem with no actual benefit to someone who didn't know any better. The titan’s eyes gleamed with murderous rapture. A new weapon! It must be! A legendary to compliment the innate punching brilliance he was born with. Would he soon be hearing the savage chattering of the Vanquisher VIII or perhaps feel the sleek precision of a Crusader I in his hands? Certainly he wanted the assault rifle, but he could give that murderous scout rifle a lovely home as well. “Might I ask what the reward is, sir?” he said with barely restrained excitement. With a sigh for the titan who deigned to speak with him after the conversation had clearly been concluded, the executor turned his withering glance back to the hopeful hero. “The New Monarchy has granted you an ascendant energy and a mote of light.” The titan was confused. The information seemed unwilling to process. This couldn't be. It just couldn't. Weeks of missions, countless strikes, daily missions, weekly strikes…all to attain greater rank with the New Monarchy, to display the loyalty and steadfast commitment, to earn a grand prize from the New Monarchy armory that would allow him to further dispense righteous murder on behalf of his beloved faction. So much work. So much time. And this was the reward? “Executor, I’m somewhat shocked. An ascendant energy? That doesn't make sense. As you know from the reputation I've gained, I run the daily mission on the hardest difficulty every day and receive two ascendant materials for that trouble. That takes but a few minutes. Achieving this rank has been a labor of weeks for me. How can one ascendant energy be considered a suitable reward for such consistent devotion?” “And a mote of light, Titan. I am perplexed myself at our generosity. As I can see you are from your face and commentary. It does seem most gratuitous of the New Monarchy to lavish such opulence on a mere titan, but such is our mission. You are loved, Titan.” With that he nonchalantly waved his hand in our hero’s general direction and continued to stare resolutely into the middle distance. “Sir…ummm…When I achieved rank two with the Vanguard I began buying armor,” The executor once again leveled his most baleful glare at the titan who seemed determined to keep talking to him. “Ahem…yes…uh. So as I was saying…I began buying armor in the hopes that I would one day obtain a legendary assault rifle. But alas, when I achieved rank three with the Vanguard I was given a pulse rifle. Personally I dislike that weapon type sir, so I was somewhat deflated, but I have used it from time to time as it was the only legendary primary weapon I had. I persevered. As an devoted Guardian would.” “Titan, if you love the vanguard so much, then why don’t you continue to gain rank with them?” “Well sir I did. At rank 4 with the Vanguard I was given an ascendant shard. Frustrated, and ultimately coveting the Vanquisher VIII carried in your arsenal anyway, I took up your mark and began to gain rank. Now that I have achieved a rank suitable to earn or purchase weaponry with the New Monarchy, I still have no new weaponry. Instead I have a single ascendant material awaiting me with the post master. I can earn twice this much material on a daily basis, yet my weeks of work on your behalf for this rank have earned me just one? I could disassemble a legendary weapon and receive more material than this. At the very least, if I’m not to be granted a weapon, could I not receive more material?” “No,” said the executor. At this point the Titan began to sniffle and stamp his little feet. “But, but, but….” “Doesn't seem fair does it?” asked the Executor. “I know you’re thinking that the reward seems to not accurately reflect the required effort. You've really put your time in here, Titan. You’re a good little soldier, and you've got some nice rare weapons there. And of course that lovely pulse rifle should you ever decide to commit to it. So let this be your lesson.” The titan dragged his forearm across his runny nose, looking expectantly to the executor for some sage wisdom that would reconfirm his resolve. “Are you listening, Titan? Here’s the lesson. I don’t care. You got something and it’s pretty underwhelming. You did a lot for us, and we gave you very little in return. Are you seriously telling me that this is your first job? Am I to assume that prior to this, you've always been paid fairly or even generously for the work you've done? Is this the first time that someone took advantage of you? Used you as a pawn toward the furtherance of a grander scheme? If so then your additional reward is the charmed life you have led up to this point. One filled with naiveté and free of the grasping truculent greed of baser men. I hope you enjoyed it. Because now you’re in the stink, idiot. The New Monarchy owns you as much as it is possible to own anyone in this brave new world. You are an indentured servant. You are mine. I pimp you out to get chewed up by the worst that the darkness has to offer. And if you survive, then I’ll offer you the chance to do it again. And you’ll thank me for the opportunity. If you want what I got, boy, you better earn the marks to buy it. There are no free rides here. There is only pain and my unquenchable thirst for power. You are nothing but cannon fodder, Guardian. Now hitch up your skirt. Dry your oily Exo tears, and either let me show you a lovely new waist towel or get out of my sight.” “You’re a monster! A mean mean bad man!” shrieked the Titan as he ran away in shame…