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1Prologue - Awakening
2
3A voice stabs through the darkness, the loudest thing heard throughout the infinite sleep. He doesn’t understand the words, but he recognizes words are being spoken, and it stirs him. The impenetrable smog of his consciousness swirls and twists into shapes, faces, and colors. He sees the muzzle flashes. Dirt thrown into the sky makes his left eye sting and shut, irritated by the debris. His own breathing becomes apparent to him, rapid and shallow. Feet plod along on the burnt and trampled grass, and he sees blood. 
4
5He can hear the whistling, the screaming of people around him. The voices are all saying the same thing over and over, but he can’t make out the meaning in the din. Sleep! He wishes for sleep! If only the smoke would return, if only the quiet had remained! The scream gets louder, piercing the shrill noise of energy weapons and the hiss of nearby bullets flying through the air. Slowly, the voices start to coalesce into the single sentence. 
6
7One grand, thunderous boom burns a ten mile hole in the heavens of his delirium:
8
9”Hello…?”
10
11Slowly, his eyes crack open in the slightest. Even the moonlight feels like Sol himself, and he shuts his eyes again as his first breath escapes his lips. His mind is alight, a blaze of panic, but his body is not responding, and so he can only make senseless noises. 
12
13”Shh, it’s okay. I hear the first wake-up is the hardest.”
14
15He takes a deep breath, this time opening his eyes enough to see. A curious object awaits him, polygonal and with a single glowing eye. When it speaks, the eye’s brightness fluctuates and twists. It feels like it’s observing him as a machine would, yet the voice, female and genuine, is too human for that.
16
17”Take your time.”
18
19”I intend to,” he raggedly replies, the words difficult to form. Giving his eyes a rub with one hand, he finds he can feel the rest of his body without any difficulty. His body operates on habit, and he lifts himself with his left hand. It feels effortless, as though he has no weight to lift, and if he couldn’t feel himself moving he wouldn’t detect the weight at all. Vines and grass cover his body, and he brushes it off as he stands, leaving a person shaped divot in the earth. 
20
21Upright and apparently alive, he finally beholds this little bot. It floats with no visible assistance, and it is still looking at him. It speaks again, “So do you remember anything? From before?”
22
23“Before what,” he inquires, and it occurs to him that before this moment, he has no idea how he got to this location. “Where am I?”
24
25”One thousand, seventy-four miles west from the Traveler!” the bot explains, which means absolutely nothing to him.
26
27He examines his surroundings. A thick forest surrounds him in nearly all directions. Dirt and grime cover what appears to be an otherwise healthy body, covered in some kind of tattered clothing. Desiring a clearing and space to gather his thoughts, he starts to move, and the clothing simply falls away, long since too weak to withstand even the lightest breeze. 
28
29Looking over himself, he observes his body, near perfectly toned and very pale. With no clothes, he imagines he should feel cold, but he feels perfectly comfortable, minus a natural feeling of vulnerability from exposure. Starting his walk, he ignores the bot’s inquiry, who follows him along in silence after the first ten minutes. He doesn’t want to ask questions yet.  
30
31For an hour he walks, taking the time to gather his thoughts and make sense of a situation with precious few details. Once he feels he can learn no more by simple observation, he sits down at a fallen tree in a small clearing, with a creek nearby. The sound of gentle water is so comforting, and mixes perfectly with the crickets and rustling leaves. 
32
33“What are you?” he asks to the bot, who seems suddenly cheered up by the break of silence. 
34
35“I’m a ghost!” was the chipper response.
36
37Flatly, he retorts with “you’re a robot.” He’s puzzled to see that the bot seems downtrodden for moment. “Or…well...sorry?”
38
39”No, it’s okay. You show signs of disorientation, but given you’ve been dead for approximately two hundred and fifty years, I suppose that’s to be expected!”
40
41He cocks his head, a look of shock communicating what words simply could not. With exasperation, he puts his face in his hands and takes another deep breath. Being covered in dirt and plants, the clothes being so tattered, are both evidence that perhaps what the bot says has merit. Thankfully, his lack of memories provides him no context for such a long absence from consciousness. 
42
43”Why am I alive?” he hesitantly asks, unsure that he wants to know the answer. 
44
45“Because I found you! I don’t mean to have pestered you so much after you started walking, I’m just so happy I finally found you. It’s hard to contain myself.” It bobs in the air erratically, as though excited. 
46
47”Why, though?”
48
49”Well, because it’s what I was made for!” 
50
51”You were made,” he slowly repeats, “to find me? To bring me back to life?”
52
53“Yes!”
54
55“Then what do I do now? What’s the catch?”
56
57Looking at him, then off behind him, then in various other directions, the bot calculates terabyes of data in a few seconds. “I…I don’t know, what you want, I guess. The Last City could always use more Guardians but I suppose I couldn’t force you to go there.” 
58
59He’s puzzled. In his confusion there exists numerous questions, and what answers he hears are doing nothing to sate his immense curiosity, nor remove the ambiguity of the situation. “Which way to the City?” The bot turns east, and a deep sigh escapes him. He begins the walk. 
60
61
62Prologue - Ceasefire
63
64Commander Zavala of the Vanguard stands at his table. He stares through the documents upon it, barely registering their presence. A hundred scenes play in his mind. What could he have done differently? Thousands of Guardians dead in an instant, the moment Ghaul’s cage cut them off from the Light. Bolts mid-flight, grenades detonating by their feet, all of them suddenly and permanently dangerous. There was some cold comfort in thinking that perhaps many of them never even realized they died. That comfort faded as soon as he thought of those that didn’t die instantly; the injured would have lain on the ground, realizing their eternal end was at hand, in pain and weak. 
65
66“They died like dogs,” Zavala mutters to himself through gritted teeth. 
67
68”They died like Guardians,” Ikora says from behind him. Zavala’s head raises, and his shoulders rise and fall from a forlorn sigh. 
69
70“Guardians don’t die.” The words leave him like a deflation, but he mentally shoulders the weight as always. The Titan Vanguard does not falter, not through failure or despair. A wall does not crumble to emotion, it crumbles to firepower. 
71
72He reads the reports that flood in every half hour. The numbers of dead civilians is significant. Many of those that left the city have yet to return, and its likely that they will not for some time. At current approximation, seventy-five percent of the population is unaccounted for. Thousands of Guardians have been confirmed dead, mostly at the hand of the Red Legion. 
73
74Personal accounts are written on many of the reports. A hunter that was mid-triple jump, stripped of her light, breaking her neck after a twenty-five foot drop. Four guardians trapped in a building, slowly suffocating from a roaring fire set to it by Incendiors. Unable to fight their way out, and weakened from smoke inhalation, they were killed by the building’s collapse and found only after the ceasefire. The ceasefire - the words send streaks of cold anger through Zavala’s body. His eyes leave the reports out of mercy for himself and stare instead through the window of the command center, overlooking the City. 
75
76Cabal ships were still hovering low. The City was currently occupied while the terms of the cease fire were worked through. Squads of Cabal soldiers scavenged weapons and bodies from the dead near the epicenter of the Traveller’s shattered shackles. When it awoke, metal hundreds of meters long rained down on the city and some of the Red Fleet, causing widespread destruction. Zavala, the stone-faced, the resolute, was filled with the strongest desire for revenge he ever felt. It would take a miracle for this negotiation to go well without him launching across the table and strangling Ghaul until Zavala watched his arch-foe’s eyes glaze over. 
77
78If the Vanguard still had the strength, the Red Fleet would be dead. The Vanguard, however, is weak and scattered. Some Guardians left with the evacuation efforts to protect civilians as per the Neo Collapse Protocol. What few were left were still searching the City for more bodies. 
79
80”It’s time,” Ikora reminds him quietly. They leave the command center. On the way, Zavala must divert through a maintenance access so no one but Ikora sees him shed tears. 
81
82They enter a room so thick with tension it could be gagged on. At the other end of a long table, with two Centurions to his left and right, Dominus Ghaul. Zavala and Ikora exude bloodlust, and this time its Zavala who comforts Ikora, who cannot remember to breathe through the haze of red fury. They step to the table, and all eyes are on them. For minutes, both sides stare intensely at each other. Both sides glare each other down, imagining all the ways they could - right at this moment - kill each other. It is Zavala who speaks first. 
83
84”What is your plan?” he is seething but his voice is calm enough. Offence to Ghaul might mean death for the whole city. 
85
86Ghaul answers with a deep and serious voice. He is not deaf to the silent screams for blood on either side of the conversation. “We have accounted for half of our missing ground troops, and steadily find more as time passes. Most of the casualties are a result of ships being downed by the broken stasis device I placed on the Traveler.”
87
88”Were that more of them were by Guardians,” Ikora seethes through clenched teeth, and Zavala shakes his head and puts a hand on her forearm. 
89
90”We will speak as commanders, not soldiers,” Zavala reminds her quietly, and Ikora takes a deep breath. He continues, returning his steel gaze to Ghaul, “It is our intention to commence rebuilding and communicate to our scattered evacuated citizens. They will not return if Cabal ships remain overhead.”
91
92”As soon as our preparations are finished we will establish a camp some distance to the north of your borders and begin construction of an orbital station to facilitate repair and rearm. We will remove every ship but I will demand the concession that an envoy be left behind. I will require you to criminalize attacks against my Legion to prevent further conflict.” Ghaul’s tone is that of the victor. It is not indignant, only completely certain. Zavala internally winces at the realization Ghaul must see this as a total victory and them as too useful to simply destroy. Still, these terms were more agreeable than he had expected. 
93
94”Very well. We will ensure that your envoy is provided quarters and any attempt to accost them will be met with swift punishment,” Zavala concedes - better a small envoy than the entire Red Fleet. 
95
96”You could destroy us,” Ikora spits with contempt, “why don’t you?” Zavala shoots her an irritated look but to his surprise Ghaul answers. 
97
98”Your statement answers the question. The option to destroy you is mine. You live by my allowance, and you would be wise to stay focused on recovering from your defeat.”
99
100Ikora’s mouth opens, stepping forward a half pace, and Zavala knows a hasty and violent retort is incoming. “Silence, Ikora,” he demands, and Ikora looks at him, dumbstruck. Zavala’s eyes are locked on Ghaul’s once again. “The negotiation has concluded for now.” There is a heavy silence that overtakes the room as the shadow of anger descends upon them once again. While there is more to talk about, the Vanguard Commander has reached the end of his restraint.
101
102Without waiting on a response, Zavala issues orders to his Tower Manager, who will prepare the quarters for the emissary. Speaking to Ghaul as he leaves the room, “we will meet again once your fleet is prepared to relocate.”
103
104If nothing else, the fury has instilled in the Commander a resolute determination. Ghaul is right, they have no military power, and the Fallen, Hive, Vex, and Taken are still major threats. “Ikora, I’m sorry for that,” he says as they walk; his voice is sympathetic and even a bit sheepish. There are few scenarios where he could get away with stiff arming Ikora. 
105
106”It’s fine. It was necessary.” She is not quite settled down judging by her irate tone, but Zavala knows that she is almost never facetious. His actions have been forgiven, purged by the blaze of their mutual hatred. 
107
108Wanting to discuss a plan, he speaks, ”We need new Guar-” 
109
110Cutting him off, she pulls his pauldron so that he’s facing her and she hisses with conviction, “You will rebuild the city. I will rearm and recruit. And I’m going to take a battalion of Guardians to his camp, break down his doors, beat his men to death in front of him with my bare hands while he watches, and bathe him in pain for a thousand days or until I’m otherwise tired of his screaming.”
111
112There was a time when Ikora’s recklessness would be counterbalanced by Zavala’s cold rationality, but in this moment Zavala finds it difficult not to rally with her. It would be foolish to voice this to Ikora in her present state, where she may feel herself placed in a position of overall leadership. Instead, he nods, more out of understanding how she feels rather than agreeing to her need for vengeance. Her reaction to the meeting with Ghaul reminds him that he must keep himself in check or they may destroy themselves, consumed with rage. The wall does not crumble to emotion.
113
114They make their way back to the command center. 
115
116
117Chapter 1 - Pain
118
119Chill winds accompanied low hanging clouds among the sea of greenery. The new Guardian stands on the plateau, looking down over the edge. He can see the Traveler, far in the distance, a massive and bright orb peeking just over the horizon. The plateau’s wall stretches for at least several kilometers in both directions. Impatiently huffing, he turns to start the walk down the wall until he can find a way down. 
120
121”You know, you could just jump,” the ghost says, causing the Guardian to turn with a look of disbelief. He shakes his head and starts walking again. “No, I’m serious! You can jump and I can just revive you.”
122
123“You can what?” This time he turns around and slowly approaches the ghost. “You mean like when you woke me up the first time?”
124
125“That’s right!”
126
127He stands and the ghost floats in silence for a minute. Looking back over the edge, and then back to the ghost, he is struck by the fact that he’s considering it at all. A nervous lump forms in his throat, and he swallows it down to ask, “Will it hurt?”
128
129”Almost certainly!”
130
131The Guardian gazes at the horizon. It could take hours or over a day to get down and around this plateau. What’s some pain and a revival to full health? He would lose nothing permanently and gain a great deal of time. Survival instincts sound klaxons in his head, but being deathless opens up possibilities beyond what is rational. 
132
133…
134
135Thirty feet from the edge, he paces nervously back and forth, taking deep breaths and trying to blank his mind. The ghost hovers nearby, and it seems it’s impatience finally gets to it. “What are you doing?” 
136
137He looks at the ghost as though it’s an idiot. “I’m about to throw myself to my death on your word that I’ll be fine. Just give me a few seconds to prepare myself.”
138
139The ghost’s eye blinks and for a few seconds it seems perplexed. “But it’s been twenty two minutes.”
140
141He says nothing and looks back at the edge. Sweaty hands clasp and rub together, and steady, deep breaths escape him. He takes one step, and another. Prodding himself mentally, fighting survival instinct, he accelerates into a run. With every sprinting step the edge comes ever closer, and he courageously - or stupidly - ignores every siren in his head that tells him to stop. For a moment, there is ground beneath his feet. In the next, there is nothing but air and the blurry images of trees far below.
142
143Gravity takes him. His breath catches in his lungs through a terrified gasp. 
144
145He falls. 
146
147The air erupts from his chest through a scream, and he can’t think anymore as fear overwhelms every sense and thought. As he falls, the scream starts to give way to deep and rapid breathing as he tries to prepare himself for the landing. I don’t want to die, please I don’t want to go back, I don’t want to-
148
149Branches violently interrupt his flight path. He crashes through six before he’s slowed enough to start bouncing off of them. The first branch that doesn’t give way snaps multiple ribs. He flips backwards and his head bounces with a blood spatter off of the thick trunk of an adjacent pine - vision flashes white, then shuts to black. 
150
151He can feel his upper arm snap, his leg catches another branch and flips him frontwards. With a murderous thud, his face bounces brutally off of dirt, breaking his nose and other facial bones. The wind has left his lungs but he’s still barely conscious. 
152
153Chest hurts. He groans loudly in agony and wishes for unconscious or relief. He mumbles incoherently, but he’s trying to cry out for help. Blood gets in his eyes and burns them shut. Letting out a scream is impossible as he wheezes furiously, finding it extremely laborious to breathe. His impact on the ground has shotgunned his shattered rib into one of his lungs. 
154
155He hears a familiar whine of the Ghost and tries to call out to it. Why did I listen? The robot just wanted to kill me. I’m going to die. As he laments his foolishness, a white light washes over him, and the pain starts to recede. In what will be the strangest sensation he ever feels, his bones start to knit together. His lung reforms and the debris inside it clears away. It burns, but the crippling pain as stopped. 
156
157Since he can now take a deep breath, he does so and feels such relief! His arm jerks twice as it’s bone is repaired, as well as the legs, and his face. When the light fades, he remains lying on the ground for minutes, trying to forget about the last half hour. 
158
159One hand slides along the dirt and the other mirrors it on the other side. Pushing himself up to his hands and knees, he finds he’s not even panting, nor is he tired. It was as if nothing had happened at all. He looks up to the Ghost, who has been uncharacteristically quiet. 
160
161”I’m…so sorry, I thought…I don’t know what I thought…” the Ghost begins, stammering. It sounds so upset, and it can’t meet his gaze. Again he cannot be sure if this thing is truly sapient or just a perfect replica of consciousness. 
162
163”You fixed me,” he states with amazement. “Those were fatal injuries.”
164
165“Yes. If you had died completely I could have fixed that too.”
166
167Staring through the ground, he ponders many applications, and implications, of this profound healing ability. It doesn’t take a genius to know how important such a feat is. Glancing up at the bot, then down at the ground again, he rears back and settles into a seated position. “Can you die?” he questions quietly, as though he was trying not to startle it. 
168
169The Ghost is unfazed and replies, “Yes, if I take damage while un-shielded. Reviving and repairing you is risky.”
170
171He slowly nods. Regardless of what his objective is, it seems that protecting the Ghost comes first and foremost. Without it, he is mortal, presumably. He gets to his feet, and looks himself over. Truly, there is no injury, though the blood is still present. In awe, he absently declares, “we have to keep going.” 
172
173The jungle is harsh, but even the sharp branches, razor grass, and needle vines cannot compare to the unending cold of the wind. Despite these conditions, the Guardian is unfazed. After the immense pain of his cliff dive, pushing through small cuts and nicks feels like nothing. The ghost occasionally flutters and repairs the damage. 
174
175“You seemed upset,” he asks as they finally find an old dirt path. He’s grateful to finally have some gentle, even ground to walk on. “When you repaired me. Why?”
176
177“You were in pain,” it replies. “I’ve never seen a living thing in so much pain before. I’m sorry, I should have at least flown down before you jumped.” 
178
179“It’s fine,” he responds, though in his mind he’s annoyed that he, too, didn’t think to send the ghost down first. The ghost’s answer confirms to him that it has some type of conscience. 
180
181Hours pass, and the forest slowly begins to thin out as they reach what appears to be the outskirts of a city. On a long, cracked highway, old steel husks of what he identifies as vehicles are strewn about for miles down the road. Every now and then, he stops and pokes through the vehicles when he sees some kind of container that may have something useful. More often than not, the insides of said containers are filled with mold, bug infestations, or simply empty. 
182
183The only item he scavenged after fifty searched vehicles was a solar-charged flashlight. After walking with it in-hand for half an hour, by some miracle it turned on. Though the ghost stated it could function as a flashlight, something was better than nothing. Perhaps the tiny solar panels could power some other device with some rewiring. He was sure he could remember something about how to do that, but the specifics weren’t coming to mind. 
184
185The buildings are overgrown, but many still stand. Few reach higher than two stories. After walking in the freezing wilderness for days, the concrete and signs that the Guardian can’t read seems almost alien. 
186
187Standing in the middle of the road, he looks up and down the street. Though there are occasional birds and rodents, there is no other activity. He reasons now wouldn’t be a bad time to find some useful supplies, or whatever that actually meant to an immortal being. 
188
189The first building he enters is a one-story building with windows and a sign out front. He understands that it looks like a store, where trade occurs, but he’s not sure why he knows that. Inside are some clothing items, cups, and various trinkets. Most of the shelves are empty. He finds himself some pants, a shirt, and a thin nylon backpack, multicolored and gaudy, where he stashes the flashlight.
190
191The ghost watches him curiously. “You don’t have to do that. Watch!” Without seemingly any action from the ghost, the flashlight seems to fizzle out of existence in a blue mist. “Now hold out your hand.” He does so, and watches in a amazement as the flashlight reassembles itself from nothing. He stares at the ghost, then back at the flashlight, gesturing with it for the ghost to take it once more. It fizzles into nothing once again. In awe, he decides not to ask how it works, reasoning that at least for now he isn’t going to understand. 
192
193Five minutes pass. As he changes clothes, the ghost floats close by, it’s eye pointed at the door. It whispers, “Did…did we close the door when we entered?”
194
195For an instant he’s confused by the question, but he halts at once and looks back at the door. It is closed. “The door was already open,” he whispers back. A crackle sounds at the far end of the store and they lower themselves behind some of the shelves. Something larger than a rodent runs off into the storage area at the back of the building.
196
197The ghost replies “Motion on my sensors. Here, you might need this.”
198
199For a few moments, he feels light and airy as he’s momentarily lifted off the ground, causing him to gasp and flail a bit to maintain balance. Light bathes him and he feels something tightening around his body, including his head. His vision goes dark for a moment before a helmet’s visor hums to life. His body was now covered in some type of gray armor and clothing. 
200
201He looks himself over, then glares at the ghost. “Wh-..! Why didn’t you do this earlier!?” he hisses quietly.
202
203The ghost snaps back, “I didn’t think about it!” Another rustling sound emits from the backroom. He can see on some kind of readout in the helmet, red lines on a black circle. He gathered that indicates something was nearby. Without another word, he started to move fast back towards the door. He opened it, and sprinted across the street, jumping through a large hole where a window used to be, rolling, and turning back to look at the store he just came from. 
204
205His senses were buzzing. If he still had a heartbeat it’d be pounding in his ears. All his attention was on the other building. He was so distracted he almost didn’t notice when the ghost shouted “Left!” The guardian decided to move rather than turn, bounding to the right to create distance. As he looked to identify the threat all he could see was a glowing knife-edge graze his helmet, it’s crackling fury scaring him outright. Stumbling, he lets himself fall into some shelves to stabilize his stance. For a split second, he can see the assailant. 
206
207A helmet, glowing eyes, and four arms. The creature lashes forth with another strike. He doesn’t react fast enough to dodge completely, and he convulses as the electric blade cuts clean through the armor and delivers a powerful shock through his torso. Dazed, he falls into the sales counter and lets himself tumble over it. Hitting the ground with a flop, he crawls as quickly as his scrambled nerves allow, staying low. 
208
209The creature bounds up over the counter, now directly over him. It stabs forward with the blade, but it seems a little slower this time. The guardian slaps the blade aside, causing an audible pop and burning his hand. Ignoring the pain, with the blade now stabbed into the floor inches from his head, he grabs the pole. Launching himself off the ground with one hand, pulling with the other, he kicks the creature in the chest. It’s grip on it’s weapon doesn’t loosen, but the force causes it to lose its balance and fall behind the counter with the guardian. 
210
211He kicks again and again at the hand and arm(s?) that cling to the polearm. The creature finally lets go. Having no time to turn the weapon around, he stands, grips the weapon, and begins to smash the blunt end of the spear into the creature’s helmet. He strikes three times, hitting it so hard he can see deep dents in it’s helmet. Accidentally zapping himself with the blade, he turns the weapon around now that the creature is beaten, and he stabs it through the chest with no hesitation, acting on instinct. 
212
213He yells out in triumph and anger as the creature grips at the weapon, weakly tries to pull it out, and then it falls limp. The battle is over. The guardian feels fury and something like an angry happiness come over him, and he immediately scans his environment. Across the street, in the building he had just left, two glowing eyes peered at him from the darkness. 
214
215Feeling more confident with a weapon in hand, he keeps his eyes locked on the eyes of the creature across the street as he slowly vaults over the counter and moves to break line of sight. As soon as he does, he commands, “patch me up.”
216
217The ghost appears and he feels the warming sensation of his wounds being erased. Concerned, he asks, “Is there a limit to this? Or some kind of cooldown?”
218
219“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. My light comes from the traveler so maybe not? I’ve never thought about it.” 
220
221“You don’t think about god damn anything, do you?” he snapped, and the ghost seemed visibly taken aback. It seemed to sulk, and the guardian felt some genuine shame for upsetting her…it. “Sorry. Just really high strung after that.” 
222
223“It’s fine,” it says in monotone, indicating that perhaps the apology was not enough at this time. 
224
225The guardian decides to move without speaking further, both out of the new necessity for stealth, and his own discomfort from the quick conversation. They leave together out of the back door of the building. Deciding that new armor and a lightning halberd was enough, he decided to jog out of the cluster of buildings and into a nearby hill. He double-checked now and again to ensure he wasn’t followed, and they set up in the trees and shrubbery to watch and wait. 
226
227They sat in silence for almost twenty minutes before he saw any movement. In that time he had figured out how to turn the halberd off and on, which now lay dormant next to him. By now, both of them had calmed down, and their speech was cordial once again. “Look at that,” he whispers, looking down at a six-alien squad emerging from the buildings and moving down the street. A larger four-armed one is ordering smaller two-armed units around. All of them are humanoid in shape, though they all wear helmets or face masks and sleek, curvy equipment covered in antennae and slapdash modifications. On their backs a cloak flutters from their movement, with the same symbol on it. He guesses it’s some kind of banner. “What are they?”
228
229”We call them the Fallen, but their actual race is called Eliksni. These don’t have a house banner that I’m familiar with. Energy weapons that can track their targets. Armor that offers relatively little protection against firearms but stands up well to dispersing intense heat.”
230
231Firearms. What the guardian would give for a gun. He passively fiddles with the spear. “I guess the four-armed ones are in charge?” he asks.
232
233“Yes,” the ghost replies, and they exchange glances as it floats near to his head, watching them in tandem. “We call them Vandals. The smaller ones are Dregs. In Eliksni society, they have their lower two arms removed as per their status. They can regenerate but not with those metal caps on their stubs.”
234
235“That’s messed up,” the guardian remarks out of pity. He eyes the weapons, and to his surprise the helmet reacts, showing a picture-in-picture of the weapon zoomed in. “Those guns…if I got one, would I be able to use it?”
236
237“I’m not sure. They’re dangerous to operate but relatively simple. I doubt they have any kind of locking mechanism. Are you…really going to try and get one? You barely won against one Vandal.” The ghost’s tone sounds more like concern than poking fun, but the guardian is still mildly annoyed. 
238
239”I was caught off guard. A gun would be too useful to leave behind. We know that they split up sometimes, so let’s just watch them and see how they move. If we see them split up often, we can stalk them and catch one unaware.” He looks down at the halberd. “Can you store something this big?”
240
241“Easy!” The ghost confirms, and the halberd disappears, to be called on when it’s needed. 
242
243“Thank you.”
244
245“You’re welcome,” the ghost replies with a pleased inflection.
246
247He watched them patiently for a half hour, observing how they searched buildings, interacted with each other, and at what times they would split up. It is typical for a Vandal or two to patrol around with three to five Dregs. When they check buildings, it’s not with a particular amount of caution, though he noticed their guns were constantly at the ready. They are likely to still be spooked from his encounter with them. 
248
249He picks his moment, when none of them seem to be looking his way, and starts making his way down the hill. He’s not half way down when a sizzle and a loud snap erupt from the top of a building three blocks away, and he loses his footing as a wave of severe pain nearly rips his arm free. He tumbles down into the shrubbery slowly rolling to a stop. 
250
251His breathing is laborious, and he fights every instinct to groan in pain as he looks down to see a hole blasted clean through his shoulder. The ghost instinctively reacts, closing the distance fast and beginning the healing process, but he puts a hand out. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Lights out.” The ghost understands. Patrols might have seen the trail the shot left. Without any knowledge of how far away the nearest patrol was, if he started healing the light that the process emits may give him away. For now, in the shrubbery, he was concealed. He ceased movement, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. 
252
253In three minutes, a patrol arrived, and began a search of the area. He opens his eyes, and turns his head, slowly, so slowly, to the left, looking back up the hill where he came from. Two Dreg with small handguns. He turns his head to the right far enough to catch where the Vandal is. It’s overlooking the area, watching carefully. When the Dregs come back, he’s like to be spotted. 
254
255His chest feels tight as anxiety grips him. He doesn’t want to die, not like this. He looks at the ghost, and finds it’s inquisitive tilted glance at him surprisingly calming. It also gives him an idea.
256
257“Ghost,” he whispers, so lightly it would be hard to hear even from a foot away. The ghost seems to catch him clearly and nods slowly. “Drop the halberd on his head.” He’ll have maybe two seconds to get up, tackle the Vandal, and with immense luck may be able to wrestle the gun, or at least buy him a moment to grab the halberd and find a better position. “Heal me right after as I move.” The ghost looks at the vandal, then back at him.
258
259”Are you crazy?” it whispers back. He glares sharply. There’s just no time for that, his eyes seem to say. “I’m…scared.” 
260
261“Me too,” he whispers, and their gaze meets for a moment. The ghost almost looks like it takes a deep breath, and moves down low through the shrubbery, doing it’s best to emit little light, and move slowly. He tries to bend his limbs in such a way that he can get up quickly. His muscles coil and ready themselves, even as his shoulder screams in pain through his mind. 
262
263The ghost floats gently upwards behind the Vandal, eventually cresting it’s head. The Dregs spot the ghost almost immediately, and their guttural voices call out to their leader. The Vandal jerks it’s head upwards. In a panic, the ghost materializes the halberd, blade downward, and the guardian gets to his feet to move. The Vandal raises it’s gun to shoot the Ghost, sidestepping the halberd with ease. He launches himself directly at the Vandal, and startles himself as gravity seems to lose it’s hold on him, light enveloping his legs. He jets directly at the Vandal like he was shot from a cannon, flailing his arms wildly.
264
265The Vandal has half a second to look before getting brutally cloths-lined by a flying Guardian. The ghost starts healing the guardian mid-flight, dropping low to avoid the shots the Dregs are taking. He hits the ground well away from the Vandal and scrambles to his feet. Splayed out, the Vandal is struggling to regain consciousness as the Guardian charges forward, trying to duck and weave through the superheated arc rounds of the Dregs’ weapons. Three or four shots graze his arms and scorch the side of his helmet, but he won’t stop.
266
267On all fours, the Vandal once again has only enough time to look before the Guardian launches a bone-shattering kick into it’s midsection. It launches in a mostly upwards arc, and the Guardian reaches out to pull it in out of midair just in time for the Vandal to catch a volley of fire from the Dregs. 
268
269It recoils and spasms in pain, injured but not dead. The Dreg cease fire long enough for the guardian to reach for the Vandal’s weapon, grabbing it and delivering a thrust kick into Vandals back. He’s surprised again as this seems to buckle the metallic pack on the Vandal’s back and launch the vandal fifteen meters. 
270
271He drops to a knee. Grunting in pain as he pulls the gun up in both hands, he instinctively pulls the trigger without considering if that was even how it fired. Satisfyingly the gun kicks against his good shoulder and slings arc projectiles at the Dreg. They’re slow-moving, and the Dreg easily dodge out of the way, but he’s perplexed when they just keep running. Like they have a mind of their own, the projectiles slowly turn and track them down. 
272
273The ghost flies quickly behind him, de-materializing the halberd once more, and returns to healing. The pain in his shoulder recedes. One of the Dreg successfully gets behind a solid object, and the projectile smacks against it with a crackle, leaving a scorch mark on the metal. The other Dreg has no cover, and the projectile moves just fast enough to outpace it’s running speed. It gets hit in the back, rupturing some kind of gas canister and throwing it to the ground. 
274
275Moving to cover, he keeps his eyes on the Dreg that he hit. The Dreg gets to it’s knees and clutches at it’s mask. A dark gas violently escapes from the rupture, and as it slows and eventually stops, so too do the movements of the Dreg. The Guardian understands: they breathe it. 
276
277He rushes from cover without thinking, intending to take the dead Dreg’s pistol, and takes fire from the other Dreg. The Dreg’s pistols fired faster, straight shooting arc bolts, and he could predict their trajectory easy enough to dodge through the shots. Experimenting, he fires the Shock Rifle upwards, but the projectiles do not track the still-living Dreg even though he’s still looking at it. 
278
279“Take it!” he says, throwing the rifle up into the air over his head. The ghost snatches it and it fades into digital nothingness. Sliding, he grabs the Shock Pistol and levels it at the Dreg, who ducks behind cover. An anger sweeps over the Guardian, his wound now fully healed. Sprinting straight at the Dreg, he launches himself skyward three times as high as any human could and flying kicks the Dreg in the head over the husk of a car that it hid behind. It’s head snaps back and it falls to the ground in a heap. Before it had a chance to recover, he executes it with the Shock Pistol, watching with a hint of glee as the mask fused to it’s face, sending it into shock almost immediately. 
280
281His breathing was hard. If he could sweat, he’d be drenched. 
282
283“Are you okay?” the Ghost asks with a hint of worry, and his gaze snaps to it, realizing only now that he had a triumphant grin. The grin faded, and he wondered if the ghost could see it through the darkened visor of the helmet.
284
285“I won,” he exhales, barely over a whisper. He looks back towards the Dreg. It gives a last weak clutch at his mask, and that’s where it’s hand remains as it passes away quietly, unable to make a noise. As he looks into the eyes of a dead Dreg, his brutal killing of it so easy, he wonders for just a moment. As the fleeting exaltation of victory fades, he feels nothing afterwards.
286
287Not a thing. 
288
289He looks around, going over the battle in his head. It must have taken only a minute or two, long enough for more patrols to arrive any moment. Even with weapons now in his possession, he wasn’t sure how well he’d fare without the element of surprise. They need to move immediately. “Let’s go, back into the town.” They might get spotted going back up the hill. 
290
291“Sorry, I was scared and wasn’t fast enough to hit him,” the ghost timidly admits. 
292
293“You still distracted them though, right? We’re still standing and we got the guns. I think we did okay,” he explains as they move into out of the shrubbery and around the fences of the back-yards of the buildings. “Hey, how did I jump so hard?”
294
295”Did I not tell you you’re very strong?” 
296
297He stops, and waves his arms out to his side. “Are you kidding me?! What else do I not know!”
298
299“A lot of stuff, okay? Look I’m not a veteran ghost all right?” The ghost stops and looks back at him with a snapping tone. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m not really thinking about the best way to go about things! I’m really scared, and I almost died, and I’d really appreciate it if-”
300
301“Ghost.”
302
303“Do NOT interrupt me right now, you’re catching this venting whether you wanna or not!”
304
305“Ghost,” he says, pointing down the road. 
306
307“What!” The ghost turns and immediately seems to shrink, dropping about a foot in altitude. About eighty meters away, two vandals and a dozen Dreg are watching them. “…o-o-oh. Crap.”
308
309He physically grabs the ghost and almost panics when the ghost fizzles out like the weapons did. “Don’t panic!” he hears the ghost say in his helmet. “Still here, run!” Wasting not a second more, he sprints back down the alley, turns the corner around the fencing, and started a run down the concrete back alleys. 
310
311Finding he still has some strength even in a dead sprint, he pumps his legs harder against the concrete, going faster, and faster still. Leaning his chest forward to maintain his momentum, he moves faster than he instinctively thought was possible. Arc bolts sizzle over his head, but he can only see the smaller bolts whizzing by. In fact, he can only hear the smaller shock pistols firing. Where were the Vandals? Shadows between the buildings on his right give away that the Vandals are on the roofs, tracking him overhead. Despite his blistering pace, they’re able to keep up, where the Dregs are not. Hooking a right, he kicks off the wall to maintain his momentum through the corner, and a Vandal drops in front of him. 
312
313It almost immediately regrets this decision as the guardian plows into it, grabbing it’s chest plate and throwing the Vandal up over his head. He’s kicking off another wall and is on the main road before the Vandal hits the ground. 
314
315More bolts. More shouts. Dregs and Vandals appear in front of him, forty meters down the road. He skids to a stop and launches himself right, smashing through a window and landing behind a mouldy old couch set against the wall in some kind of interior lobby. Tracking arc shots sizzle into the wall that he’s put himself behind.
316
317“Gun!” The shock rifle materializes in his hands. He shoulders the weapon, swiveling to face them through the window. Three dozen hostiles are closing in all over the street. He knows there’s more where that comes from. Recoil against his shoulder, his finger held down on a trigger, he’s firing before he realizes it. Two dregs drop. He looks towards the other direction the road travels down and unloads arc bolts in their direction as well. He scores no hits, but they duck behind the broken down cars, and two squads garrison buildings across the street. “Other gun on the couch!” The shock pistol materializes in front of him, resting at the ready.
318
319His blood is on fire! He dares them in a tone that isn’t his own, damning them, begging them to try. One commandment burns a trail of fury through his mind and the smile creeps back to his face:
320
321HOLD THE LINE.
322
323The Vandals give a shout from behind cover, and all of them begin to make similar shouts in unison. The guardian can hear the door at the back of the building being struck. Shadows of the top of the building in the deep setting sun shows that some Dreg are trying to find a way in through the top of the building. His confidence falters, and is becoming replaced by fear. Leaving the room is death. Staying there is death. 
324
325He doesn’t want to die just like at the cliff, but this time the thought of his immortality is fresh in his mind. He’ll survive if the ghost does. “Ghost, hide!” he shouts through the din of arc fire. There’s no time to check and see if it did as he commanded. He can no longer hit where the sights are indicating, as nonstop fire is beginning to warp the barrel of the rifle, so he drops it, and picks up the pistol. The rifle’s slow projectiles give them time to seek cover before the rounds hit. 
326
327They’re getting complacent though, and are peeking often to fire. Faster arc rounds lash out from his pistol and he scores four hits on three Dregs and a Vandal in two seconds. It feels, for a moment, like the tide has turned, but so far he’s only successfully shot six of them, out of roughly forty. He watches the back door, trying to time out just the right moment when the door is about to break. As the hinges barely hold the door upright, and cracks form in the frame, he charges. 
328
329The door is thrust towards him, and he deflects it aside and tackles a very large figure. Though he’s smaller and lighter, his speed topples the over-sized Vandal and the Guardian rolls out of the hit, leaving the creature on it’s back. As soon as he’s to his feet he opens fire on the standing Dreg and Vandals around him, still surprised by his rush. All three of them are dropped by laser accurate fire, but he doesn’t have time to pull the trigger on the larger creature as it expertly draws a longsword made of lightning and swipes horizontally, standing in one clean motion. The Guardian tilts his upper body back, but too far! Off-balance, he avoids the sword but can’t avoid the creature’s follow-up thrust kick, which sends him straight through a wooden fence and skittering along the grass beyond it. 
330
331He scrambles to his feet, trying to raise the pistol again but it’s neatly cut through by the sword, slashing through the Guardian’s hand as well. Injured, he cries out in anger and pain, and takes several back-steps to create distance, but the creature is too fast. Again and again, he narrowly dodges and weaves through strikes, all chained together in near perfection and leaving him no room to counter through the onslaught. Deciding his only hope is to get too close for the sword to be effective, he charges in. The creature spins fully around and weaves his sword through his under-arm and out his back. 
332
333Everything goes white. His body spasms out of his control for a moment before the suit can discharge the electric shock. Vision returns, but his arms are shaky and weak as he claws pathetically at the back of this creature. Slowly, it turns to face him and calmly steps away, leaving the sword embedded in the Guardian’s abdomen. 
334
335The Guardian drops to his knees and clutches the sword. The creature waits, arms crossed. Other Vandals and Dreg gather around him, taking up positions on the building, but this large Vandal, clearly some sort of leader, barks at them to come no closer. Or it must have, because they hold position, weapons raised. 
336
337Gripping the sword’s hilt, the Guardian grits his teeth and gives it a tug. The pain is immense, causing him to cry out, and the electric blade crackles. He’s gotten a feel for the pain now, and he uses all his strength to slowly drag the sword out of him, desperately trying not to scream out through event. His whimpers elicit what sounds like snickering from the Dreg. The sword lies on the ground, depowered and bloodied.
338
339Feeling stifled, he takes the helmet off, struggling to breathe. He knows he has precious seconds of consciousness left. A trembling hand closes around the sword’s grip, and the Guardian painfully, slowly, gets to his feet. His knees beg him to buckle, and his abdomen cries out for rest. His limbs feel cold and sluggish. The creature’s head tilts slightly back, as though somewhat impressed, as the Guardian takes a step closer. One down, seven steps to go.
340
341Every footfall is a labor of willpower, and it sends a shock of pain up his spine to make almost any movement. Another step. Then another. The last shred of adrenaline calls his limbs back to life as he closes within weapons range. If he’s just going to stand there, might as well swing. The blade whips forth.
342
343The creature’s cold, gloved hand stops the blade, as there was no power in the swing to get through the padded fabric. It rips the sword from the Guardian’s hands, and turns away. The Guardian’s legs give out and he falls to his knees, then sits, breathing as hard as he can but feeling like his lungs aren’t filling. His eyes are cloudy and distant, but his mind still begs to fight. The creature, this massive Vandal, the leader of their group, raises it’s hand. The weapons of the Dreg and Vandals focus upon him. 
344
345A symphony of lightning and thunder, followed by silence.
346
347
348Chapter 2 - Contact
349
350Whispers in the darkness consume him, or what he thinks must be “him.” He feels no body, and perceives no environment, but he is aware. Words come to mind but with nothing in his environment to compare anything else to, a slowly mounting panic begins to envelope him. This feeling is familiar. He didn’t like it last time, and he doesn’t like it now. Louder now, the whispers continue to escalate in volume and frequency. Fear, entrapment! He cannot lash out in the darkness! He cannot scream, or run, or fight.
351
352A piercing light erupts from within the smog, and he can see for the first time in what feels like centuries. He’s been at the mercy of specters for so long! Elation fills him as he’s met with a flood of silence, followed by the gentle rustle of trees in the wind. He opens his eyes. 
353
354Inhaling deeply and rapidly, he shoots up off the ground and immediately scrambles to the side of a nearby tree trunk as instinct reminds him he is about to die. 
355
356A familiar voice reassures him - “They’re gone! The Fallen are gone! We’re alone right now.” The Guardian feels a bit of comfort as the plucky ghost gently floats near him, and he takes a moment to look around. There is little but foliage, swaying about, though the small movements are still causing him to look in every direction, scanning for threats. The ghost is right, there is nothing hostile here. He looks to the ghost, sitting down with his back to the tree.
357
358”What was that?” he asked.
359
360”A Captain. They’re like big vandals but I guess…you already know that now,” it explains, and he shakes his head. It doesn’t understand. 
361
362”No, I mean the…the…” he stammers, trying to remember what he’s referring to. Like a feverish dream, indescribable through the chaos, it fades as his consciousness returns fully. He looks down at his stomach. The pain is gone, but the breach in his armor remains, scorched at the edges from lightning. Loudly, a sigh of relief erupts from him and he leans his head against the tree, breathing deeply in and out. Calmness overcomes him in the darkened forest, only feet away from the scorch marks left from his incinerated body. 
363
364His hand brushes over the hole in the armor. “Don’t suppose you can repair this, can you?” 
365
366The ghost rotates itself left and right, “I could patch it with similar material, but I can’t generate matter from nothing.”
367
368“What about the Fallen’s armor?”
369
370The ghost scans over one of the Vandals in an instant and excises a piece of it’s clothing. Looking back to him, it casts the light of it’s eye on the hole in the armor. The fabric materializes, seeming to both coming into existence and weave through his armor’s fabric at the same time. 
371
372”It’s as sealed as I can get it,” the ghost reports. “I won’t be able to fix the helmet’s display without graphene, rubber, and spin-metal, but I can at least get the visor.” Using more fabric and the glass from the masks of the aliens, the helmet is resealed, though with a spot of discoloration in the glass. 
373
374Getting to his feet, he and the ghost look around for any gear left behind. The bodies have been left to rot, but the weapons were collected. The ghost, however, still has the halberd. He remarks that it’s back to square one, but then he starts to think about the fight as they leave the town, hoping to avoid further encounters with the Fallen. 
375
376”So I’m strong, fast, and I can jump high? Why didn’t I know that when I woke up?” 
377
378Pluckier than the Guardian would like, it replies “you were dead! What memories do you think you were going to have?”
379
380The Guardian sputters and retorts, “But I knew that building we first checked out was a store. Why would I know that? I’d have to remember that but I’ve never seen it before. I know those husks were cars. I know that I should be wearing clothes…”
381
382Before he can continue, the ghost interrupts, “I don’t know everything about the revival process, I just know how to do it. Maybe some parts of your old mind are still there?”
383
384”That must mean I…wasn’t this strong or fast before, right?” he asks, his voice quiet and almost meek. “If I remember some stuff, but not that…do you know who I was?”
385
386”I’m sorry, but…I don’t,” the ghost answers somberly, detecting his tone.
387
388They continue through the forest for miles, as the Guardian asks questions, finally in a state of mind to want to know more about the world. He learns of the ongoing war between humanity and the various alien races. Tales are told of the Vanguard, the City, and the ghost’s journey to find him. As if nothing can ever end on a good note, he’s alerted by the ghost’s admittance that it hasn’t heard from the city in several weeks. “I’m sure they’re all right though, as long as the Guardians are there,” it reassures him. 
389
390Towards the direction that they walk, they hear the crackle of gunfire, intermittent and distant. Despite the ghost’s warnings, the Guardian recognizes that it doesn’t sound like the far-off sound of a shock rifle or pistol. Whatever was there, it might not be the Fallen. He convinces the ghost to go by simply walking and ignoring any warnings, as well as the resultant irritated huffs and puffs of the little bot.
391
392As they approach, the gunfire slowly dies off. Only occasional pops are heard, indicating any actual fight is likely over, but that there’s still a threat in the area. He begins a quieter walk as he reaches what he estimates was the location of the fight. It’s a refueling station, larger than most, established on a stretch of road that might eventually lead him back to the previous town were he to go right. Left leads further into the forest and downhill; where it goes would be anyone’s guess. With no elevation he doesn’t have a good enough angle to see much, but he makes out the feet of a human body through the tall shattered window panes at the front of the building. They are standing, but not moving, and he can’t see the top half through the store shelves that block his sight.
393
394Beckoning the ghost, he asks it to scale the tree and get an elevated view. From near the top it reports that there is some movement at the back of the building, but that without getting closer it can’t make out what exactly is there. 
395
396The ghost rejoins the Guardian and warns “Are you sure about this?”
397
398“Of course. If I go down, stay out of sight until the threat passes. Just like before.” Crossing the street will leave him exposed, and the front of the station doesn’t have much in the way of cover. The only way to be even somewhat concealed would be to prone crawl and hope the railing on the other side of the road obscured his movement. Choosing caution over speed, he walks low and slow to the edge of the foliage. 
399
400Scanning left and right along the road, there’s no hole the barrier on his side of the road, and it’s too low to the ground to crawl through. Diving over the barrier, he lands on his stomach. He doesn’t waste time with slow movement, scrambling across the road as quick as he can. Reaching the barrier, he peeks underneath it. There’s no movement. He’s tempted to send the ghost high up again, but without any cover the idea seems foolhardy. Throwing caution to the wind, he cat leaps over the barrier, lands on his feet, and crouch-runs as quietly as he can up to the front of the building. 
401
402The walls are marred with bullet holes and blood spatter. Despite this, there are surprisingly few bodies. He reasons there were more injuries than fatalities in this fight. Through the thick dust on the floor are the smears and scattered foot steps left behind from a frantic fight. He can’t tell how fresh any of the bullet holes are, but if all of them were from the recent firefight, then this battle would have taken place at near point blank range, indicated by the holes being on nearly every wall. 
403
404Looking down to avoid shattered glass as much as possible, he slides his feet slowly, getting in position to get through the window pane. Carefully, he steps through, trying to avoid any unnecessary sound. The slightest crack of glass rips through the silence as his armor caught a shard on the frame and pulled it off. He stops and listens. Hearing and seeing nothing, he slowly moves further into the building and crouches behind a shelf. 
405
406Behind concealment, he takes more details of the interior in. The feet he saw earlier belonged to a man, whose corpse is now pinned to the wall through the chest with a dirty machete. Dripping blood from his fingers tells him his assumptions as to how long ago he was killed were correct: it was recent. There is also a blood drip trail leading from near his position and through the staff door behind the counter. He reaches down to touch it, and finds it hasn’t dried yet. 
407
408He whispers within the helmet, “Halberd.” It materializes in his hand, and his skin prickles with goosebumps. He can’t tell if the feeling he has is from imminent danger or paranoia. Creeping along the empty shelves towards the counter, he moves slowly in order to hear clearly. Standing now at the door frame, he takes two more seconds to listen, and hears nothing. 
409
410Quickly, he moves through the doorway, and the last thing he sees before a black void takes him is a fire extinguisher swinging through the dark at his face.