Iksis stood perched against a ledge, scanning out into the distance.
The moon was riddled with small colonization plants, little areas or pods of settlement. And inside them resided the House of Exile's finest. Those of which he was waiting for.
He looked at each one, they all represented an orange and grey mix, making the moon look partly like an industrisized wasteland, part demoninc summing pit.
That was when he began looking at the Hellmouth-the giant crater in the center of everything where the worst of the Hive resided. It was leaking green gaseous fumes, probably toxic. Anything down there was devoid of light-drained of it.
It almost made Iksis want to venture down there some day. To see what abominations would await him, to kill as many as he could. It would be thrilling.
Some day. He said to himself.
The Vandal had a consistent death wish-he was craving it. From the day he left the Wolves and slaughtered his commanding officer where he stood to harrasing Guardians and other Hive creatures. He knew how to fight them, how to combat them. He knew all of their weaknesses; exploited them. It was what seperated him from the weak and weary. Those who stood by measly orders of a Kell, having the weight of the House on their back. Iksis would have no more.
And apparantly neither would Exile.
But although they were the same in many aspects, Exile was late. Iksis was not.
He cursed them in his Fallen language, still scanning for them. "Gah." He muttered, sliding down the ledge and kicking up moon dust in his wake.
When he reached the bottom of the traversal, he noticed everything was earily quiet. There was nothing around-no Exile, no Hive. Nothing. It was as if the entire moon had just simultaneously died off.
He tilted his head sideways, the chain mail over his jaw chiming and his dark black cloak sliding a small amount. He traced his Fallen hands over the cloak and readjusted it. As a slight precaution, he had his fingers around the grip of his wire rifle, ready to be drawn.
But still nothing.
The House was late and Iksis couldn't get this out of his head. It was their own detriment too. He was their link to the Ether. Ammo and weapons were supplied for their lifeline.
And, without a steady supply of Ether, the House would crumble. It was imperative that the House meet them when they were designated to.
Iksis sighed. Or, rather, it was a low-toned gargle noise. He held his hands up to his throat.
It was sore, from his daring escape. He massaged the point where the sword had cut into his throat, moving his hands underneath the chain mail and vigorously but still carefully scratching.
It was his mark, his sign of defiance. Though it wasn't the same for everyone else, no one escaped a House unharmed. For Iksis, that harm meant a shock knife right into the neck.
Any regular Fallen would have died, almost instantly in fact. But Iksis was not just any Fallen. He was stronger, better. He would survive.
He moved his hands away and snarled.
With a huff, Iksis began walking the other way. Back to the ledge where his Skiff was parked.
Iksis was resourceful-crafty. He could take anything from anyone and they wouldn't notice until it was too late. That meant stealing a Skiff from the Devils on Earth.
Iksis used to not live by a code of honor. He used to work for whoever supplied him the best. Though the Houses did not like to admit that they let in a foreigner, one that was not their own, to do their dirty work, it happened nonetheless.
But that was before Iksis changed. Back when he was starved for Ether and would do anything for it. Now, he had his own Ether supply and his own Skiff. He was self dependent and needed no House or Kell.
But that didn't change the fact that House Exile was late-and that they would suffer.
As he reached the incline up to the ledge, a voice rang out. It was small, belonged to a Dreg.
House Exile.
Iksis spun around with a Wire Rifle raised at the target, determining if his thoughts were precise. They were.
He saw a small green-clad Dreg with two Vandals and 4 Shanks. The classic Exile setup. Unorthodox, but only because it was all they had. A few rusty shanks and battle-worn Vandals.
Iksis winced. The Dreg was small, frail. He did not want to kill the creature. He wanted to pity it. To feel remorce.
It was not his fault they were late, though.
He cursed them in Fallen tongue aloud, and the Vandals nervously paused. Continuing his insults, he began walking towards the group and progressively getting louder.
He stopped when he was at the Dreg, then muttering "Where is my ammunition?" In the alien language.
The Dreg shook at the intimidating sight of Iksis. A deserved reaction. It also didn't help that Iksis threatened to rip out their throats with nothing but his hands. And other things.
But of course, the shaking soon stopped and a small crate was presented. Iksis nodded in approval.
It was then that he realized he didn't do these deals for himself, but rather for them. He had more than enough ammunition to last an army, nonetheless himself. But something kept drawing him back to this broken House. If you could even call it that.
It was that they were in his situation. Lost, unguided. Alone. He kenw the feeling all too well. He needed them to feel they weren't being pitied, that they weren't part of a charity. It would dissolve what pride they had left. No, he had to keep the trades to a reasonable amount.
Maybe he could give back some of what he had traded? Maybe when they weren't looking? That was a venture for another day.
For now, he was going to lead the small Fallen pack to his ship, where he would then supply them with his supply of Ether. Maybe add in a little more when they weren't noticing.
Stomp.
They approached the ledge, all readying for the trek that was about to insinuate.
Stomp.
They turned their attention around, to see an army of Hive approaching them.
All at once, the Fallen drew their weapons and began firing at the patrol. They had the upper hand for now.
Shanks poured out electrified projectiles while the Vandals poured out beams from their Wire Rifles.
One nailed an Acolyte, thinning their numbers.
But that still left the 8 more Acolytes and 3 Knights Iksis had counted.
He and another Vandal charged forward, into the 3 Knights as they reciprocated the move.
One brought down his sword, and his body action says he was hesitant to do so. Iksis took advantage of it.
He brought his rapiers across the chest plate of the Knight, scathing its armor and causing it to recoil back.
The second Knight wasn't as lucky as the first.
He parried the heavy sword and struck it to the side, moving his blades in straight at the Knight's helmet.
It swept off with a clean blow and Iksis didn't hesitate slicing its head off.
He turned to his left when he had a moment, seeing his Vandal ally take a masive blow from the Knight's sword.
The ranged Fallen behind it were doing their job well, keeping the Acolytes from hiding behind small formations of rock clusters or walls.
Iksis stormed the unsuspecting Knight, smacking it back with a Wire Rifle and prepping a shot.
It was then that a sword scathed his back-side, but he noticed the air change as the swing was produced. At the right moment, Iksis rolled forward straight into his enemy but escaping the Hive cleaver to split him in two pieces.
With the remaining charge, he swiftly pointed the barrel right in between the three glowing green eyes of the Knight.
It tore a hole straight through, leaving a smoldering bullet hole that Iksis could see through.
The Vandal took no further hesitation and rolled back to his feet, drawing a shock knife.
Iksis tossed it straight at the now-charging Knight and it landed in its shoulder plate, sinking into it and shocking the Knight's body.
He charged for its exposed Knight's body, bringing his knee forward and nailing it straight in the partly chiton-like partly rock-like helmet and put a crack in it. The Hive stumbled back further, swinging his blade back and forth to keep the Vandal from approaching any further.
The Vandal had one more trick: The Shrapnel Launcher.
He pulled it from his back, ignoring the Hive projectiles whizzing past his vision and his body. He pulled the trigger while the Knight regained its bearings.
It shot a scattered blast, all leading straight to the Hive.
Without a split second to decide, the Hive lifted a black mass in front of him. Impressive. The Vandal thought to himself. But he had no time to test the full extent to the Knight's strength, but rather had to kill it before finding out. Pity.
He rejoined the remaining Fallen and raised his wire rifle, scattering shots to the final 3 Acolytes and finishing them with ease. Leaving the Knight.
It had already charged them, swiping its sword into the group of Shanks and destroying all of them with ease. He turned to a Vandal, plunging its sword straight through the Fallen's chest.
It threw the Vandal right off, smacking the next to the side. It was angry.
But Iksis had noticed something else. It was as if the Knight had no control of his actions the whole time. The entirety of the fight its expression had been...docile if that was possible. He didn't want to kill. But unfortunately, he was. That had to change.
That left only the Dreg and one remaining Vandal on Iksis's side. You will slay no more Exile. Iksis promised.
The Knight charged while Iksis was still drawing his swords, forcing Iksis to rush back and let the Hive Knight swing.
He did, and in an impressive arc. It had barely reached Iksis and scathed the chain mail on his face.
But his swords were drawn. He stabbed them straight into the Knight's hands while he dropped his blade, swinging a punch into the Vandal's position. This he was not prepared for.
He took the blow, swinging him to the side while he heard a disruption.
To their left, where the Vandal and the Dreg were standing. Another figure.
It put a bullet straight through the Vandal's head while rage rushed Iksis. To the Dreg it merely smacked it away and approached the two.
He struck a knife out, stabbing it in the chest of the Hive and pushing it away. It faced Iksis.
It was a Guardian. The Guardian was wearing a cloak, as well as standard grey armor he witnessed newlyborns wearing. This is going to be easy.
He charged the Guardian with his swords drawn. It sidestepped and landed a kick straight into Iksis's chest, staggering him back while a handcannon was drawn.
Iksis charged forward while the shot rang out, and everything fell silent.
The Vandal didn't manage a swing, but saw the white Ether-like substance leaking from his wound and seeping down his form.
It was right below his hard, protected part of his chest. It was right on the relatively squishy part of his chest, and it hurt like hell. Iksis fell.
His vision swam while the same gun was drawn to his head, and the hammer was drawn back.
The Guardian muttered something while a large black form was crept up behind him.
Iksis didn't stay. Instead, he turned the other way and began crawling as far as the Guardian would allow.
There was something happening behind Iksis, but it was all white noise. He was going for the Dreg.
The Vandal continued crawling until he reached the fallen form of a Dreg. But he wasn't dead. It was merely playing so.
Iksis choked, gargled on his own blood-like substance while muttering "To my ship." In Fallen.
With that, Iksis let himself fall and stare out at the moon's atmosphere. He could see the stars greatly from here, regardless of that obnoxious green gas seeping out of the Hellmouth. Not a bad way to die.
He heard the pitter patter of the Dreg's feet rushing past him, struggling up the hill and to his Ether load. Everything I have. Iksis said to himself, proud to have supported a cause much like his own.
He shut his eyes, letting out a final gasp of air and dying completely.