A Soldier of the Light

Chapter I – Humble Beginnings

Earth, Old Russia, near Mothyards

The Ghost sighed in obvious exasperation, though there was nobody around to hear it. It initiated another scan on the barren ground, a bluish glow covering the earth surface as it looked around for any sign of hope. It had been searching for a Guardian for many months, travelling to the Moon, to Venus and briefly to Mars in order to find the ghostly remains of a long forgotten warrior.

For the past few weeks it'd been travelling with a friendly scavenger, whom it'd met with near the base of the Tower. The scavenger had kindly offered to help it in return for a few Glimmer. The Ghost had accepted, promising the scavenger a hundred Glimmer in advance and another hundred upon finding a Guardian.

The Ghost resumed working his gruelling work. Other Ghosts back at the Tower had told it about how finding a Guardian was a very special and unique occasion. Of course, they would say, it's an individual experience that's slightly different for every Ghost. But when you resurrected your Guardian for the first time, something… changes in you somehow. As if you were now not only physically connected to another being now, but you were one and the same.

The Ghost had dismissed this as merely faction-influenced garbage, but he had to admit – he certainly was excited at the prospect of meeting an ancient and long-dead warrior.

Ping!

The Ghost could hardly believe it, its results had come back positive. He had found a Guardian! Its on-board circuits could hardly work fast enough. The Ghost expanded into its spherical state and pulsed, in and out, constructing the Guardians body and gathering nearby materials to scrape into make-shift armour and cloth. It experienced its last seconds as a Guardian-less Ghost and prepared to resurrect the Guardian.

His Guardian.

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Nothing.

Nothing but the inky blackness surrounding his mind. He knew he was dead, but he didn't expect it to feel so… empty. So… lonely. Then, quite suddenly, he began to feel warm. It was a strange sensation, especially as he hadn't been able to feel anything for the past… actually, he didn't know how long he'd been dead. A minute? A day? A year? Longer? Time was meaningless here, wherever here was.

The sensation grew hotter and hotter until he felt as if he was burning from the inside out. His whole body was on fire, ignited by some unknown force. If he were able to, he probably would have been screaming, begging for the feeling to stop.

Then the feeling stopped and slowly, ever so slowly, he began to open his eyes until he was squinting into the moonlight sky. The scene that greeted him was very different from the inky blackness he had grown oddly fond of.

He was lying on his back, he knew that. But he could feel the ground beneath him. He could feel the light wind billow through his clothing and on his face.

And he could hear a… voice, calling to him. The voice sounded as if it was underwater, but was slowly growing louder until he could clearly hear every word.

"Come on, Guardian, you need to get up." The voice said, matter-of-factly.

That word, Guardian. Was the voice addressing him?

"We need to go, Guardian. We're not safe here, newly risen warriors usually don't know up from down. I have to get you to the Tower, ASAP."

He sat up. His back protested at the effort, but he proceeded to stand up to his full height. He was around 5'10, and his framework was designed to allow him to be stealthy and agile, granting him the innate ability to move on any battlefield like a whisper in the night. But for all this, he still couldn't recall who he was. He didn't know what his purpose was.

He couldn't even remember his name.

There were quick flashes of memories somewhere in his head but they were few and far between. He had no real knowledge of his past life, but that would have to wait. Right now, he had to focus on staying alive.

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The Ghost was almost glowing with excitement. It'd done it. It'd raised its very own Guardian from the dead. Dissipating in thin air, the Ghost evaporated into its owner .However, it knew that it had to put its contentment aside and focus on getting the Guardian to the City in one piece; he didn't feel like he could perform another resurrection on this trip.

At that moment, a deafening roar rang out across the barren wasteland. It was a chilling sound, one that would cause dread and trepidation in most people.

It was a Fallen battle cry.

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The Exo Guardian looked around the plane grave-yard frantically, searching for the source of the haunting roar. He had no idea what could have produced such a sound, and frankly, he didn't want to know. Crouching next to the shell of an ancient vehicle, he warily poked his head above the cab, just high enough to see what was on the other side. Nothing but the wreckage of long-forgotten planes met his mechanical gaze.

"Perhaps we should find a weapon?" The voice in his head spoke up its suggestion.

The sudden company to his thoughts made him flinch. His body fell forward onto the wreckage of the truck to support him, making a clanking noise as he made contact. Metal on metal.

A resonating clanging echoed throughout the empty landscape. The Exo held its breath, hoping that the noise had gone unnoticed by the alien. Maybe there were more…

Another battle cry rang out, and there was no doubt in the Exo's mind that the crier was now hunting him down. Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea where the sound was coming from as the sound of the roar echoed all around him, bouncing off the ancient metal planes, filling the air around him with a roar of bad tidings.

"So are we going to wait here for you to die again, or are you going to find a weapon?" The voice in his head repeated.

"Who are you?" The Exo asked, suspicious of the new voice. There was something in it though, something that he knew he could trust.

"There's no time! We have to move if you're going to get out of here in one piece!" The voice was more urgent now, beginning to panic.

He took the anonymous advice to heart and began to navigate between the wrecks of a time long since passed. Weaving his way from plane to plane, the Exo tried to stay hidden from his yet-to-be-seen pursuer. Or pursuers, he wasn't too sure. His feet flew across the ground as he stuck to the shadows, his form hidden amongst the derelict husks perfectly. His movement hardly caused a whisper, let alone any noise. Venturing into one of the old plane wrecks, the Exo crouched next to an oddly shaped crate. It had strange markings on it, probably a warning to any trespassers – of which he was counted in. It was next to one of these crates that he found his first weapon – a beefy looking rifle. It was a matte-black colour, the same as his 'skin' armour-plating. He picked it up and got a feel for its weight. It fitted nicely into his hands and he hefted it as if aiming at a foe.

"It's a Cydonia-AR3." The voice commented on the Exo's new discovery. "It's old, but it'll do."

The Exo ignored the voice, as he supposed that he was going to need to be able to get used to sharing his head with another. This time, he exited the wreckage with confidence – now he had a weapon at his side that he could call upon if things went awry. He was low on ammunition, he realised, another thing to add to the to-do list of things he needed to sort out. Not getting killed had claimed the top spot, closely followed by his need to figure out who or what was talking to him.

Keeping a close eye on his surroundings, the Exo began to weave between the ancient machines with dextrous efficiency. Taking cover next to the rotor engine of one of the plane's wings, he peeked cautiously around the corner – and his eyes widened in astonishment.

Standing with its back turned to him was one of the aliens hunting him.

At a fleeting glance, one could have passed it off for a human soldier wearing some kind of new battle armour. Upon closer inspection, the humanoid creature was revealed to be much more. It wore a dark red cape, covering a large portion of its back. It had four upper limbs. The lower two were crossed in boredom, and in the other two laid a lethal-looking weapon. Its armour was a light grey in most places, in other places it was a lighter shade of white - presumably where the alien had attempted to clean it in futility. Its stance suggested that it was quite bored. Its commanding officer must have told it to stay put whilst he went to investigate the cause of the battle cry.

As far as the Exo could tell, the alien was alone.

Sneaking up behind him, the Exo looked at the creature's calves. Strapped there, glinting slightly in the moonlight was a deadly-looking knife. Removing the knife from its home, the Exo held it as if it were a sword, blade up - the serrated edge facing away from him and towards… it. The same serrated edge slid effortlessly into the alien's neck. In half-surprise, half-agony, the creature dropped its weapon and attempted to remove the deadly item from its throat. It was far too late for that though, for no sooner had the creature's hands reached its neck had the Exo slid the knife back out again, a white gas seeping out of the wound as the alien choked to death.

With a rasping groan, the alien died. The Exo quickly proceeded onwards, not wanting to be caught by the alien's friends.

"Over there! Look!" The voice said, attracting the Exo's attention to a building on the horizon. It looked like some kind of relay station. A radar dish was sticking out of it, giving the impression that it may have been used to direct these same planes that now occupied the graveyard to land safely.

"It's possible that there might just be something we can use in there to get out of here."

The Exo simply nodded as a sign of acknowledgement. He began the slow climb up to the complex, hoping against the odds that he would find some kind of transport to escape from this plane graveyard.

Authors Note:

Hey, guys! This is my first ever story, so don't set your expectations too high! Anyway, I should probably mention that (whilst I own the Exo character you were reading about) I don't own the 'In His Footsteps' story, the character was originally in that story first because I submitted him as an OC to the author, and I thought I should give him an origins story. So, here you go!

Reviews are appreciated, so please - take a couple of minutes out of your busy schedules to send me some feedback, okay?

Anyway, I might be asking for some OC suggestions soon, so if you want a better chance for your submitted character to be chosen, do it sooner rather than later. I expect to update this once every couple of weeks.

Thanks for reading – and I'll see you all in a couple of weeks!

Keep well and stand firm Guardians!