A/N: The second of my ideas that take place within the Destiny universe, this little fic will probably meet up with 'Un-death by Misadventure' at some point - ie, Cesta will be brought into this story. This one will have a second chapter before that happens though. Hope you enjoy, folks.
Nevvin Tohb sighed heavily, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. A Hunter's helmet usually didn't permit such acts of displeasure, so sighing was Nevvin's only recourse at that time.
He continued watching through his rifle's scope, keeping a watchful eye out for any signs of Fallen activity.
"Okay Nev, I'll bite," a laconic voice drawled over his helmet comm-set. "What is it this time?"
Nevvin adjusted the focus on his scope, trying to ignore the red-and-white cloth his Titan friend wore proudly.
"We discussed this, Golan," Nevvin answered with strained patience. "We agreed you'd leave the political bullshit at the Tower. Not only does it make you a target, it also makes you look like a massive ass."
Golan emitted a sigh of his own, fed up with the constant disagreements the two of them had over his choice of faction loyalty.
"I've told you before, Nev, and I'll tell you again, I don't see why I should be ashamed to show my support for a faction who just want something better for humanity."
Nevvin kept his scope trained on the area around his friend, while the Titan was working to repair a broken communications relay. Even now, Nevvin was surprised that someone so good at hitting things with an armoured fist was actually a skilled technician.
"We're not a political force, Golan," Nevvin argued, for the ninth time that week. "We, as Guardians, shouldn't be serving anyone but the City, the people and humanity."
Golan scoffed.
"That's funny, that sounds like the philosophies of a faction," he said sarcastically, and Nevvin rolled his eyes. "Let's see, who does that sound like? Oh yeah, the New Monarchy!" There was a momentary grunt of effort as Golan continued his work. Both men were utterly oblivious to the beauty of the Cosmodrome's shore, known as the Forgotten Shore for reasons neither of them had worked out.
"Anyway, wasn't that you I saw talking with the Arachs the other day? Getting a little cozy with Dead Orbit, are you?"
"No, you blockhead, I was simply talking to them about a mission they were asking me to take," Nevvin replied hotly, trying desperately not to get dragged into this old, old argument. Again.
"As it happens, I turned it down - I serve the Vanguard, I serve the City and I serve the Traveller."
It was Golan's turn to sigh heavily.
"I still can't believe you hold faith in that br-"
"Shit, Fallen skiff!" Nevvin warned, lining up a shot on one of the exit hatches of the ugly dropship as it slid gracelessly into position. "Gol, get out of there!"
"Nearly finished!" Golan called out, and Nevvin swore as he put a sniper round through a Vandal's faceplate.
"Now, you stubborn ass!" Nevvin shouted, pushing himself to his feet and slinging the rifle over his back. He'd seen what was moving towards his friend - a Fallen Captain, with what looked like four high-ranking Vandals as an entourage. With no Dregs in support to make up the numbers, Nevvin reasoned this was a kill-team, not a patrol - and Fallen Captains were vicious in their application of force.
Nevvin was already running towards his friend's position, but even with his Blink ability he wouldn't be fast enough.
"Tina, Sparrow!" he called, and a mechanical chirrup signalled his Ghost's compliance. He'd taken to calling it Tina due to its feminine voice, and the Ghost had never complained.
As soon as the twin-pronged craft had materialised in front of him, Nevvin was at the controls and gunning the engine, racing to cover the distance between himself and the Fallen squad.