Tay's theme: "GKpeople"-Hiroyuki Sawano (because this is totally the music that will play when she's fought)


Martin clutched the controls, taking deep breaths, as he sped through open space, following the flight path that would take him to the Reef. Calm yourself, Martin. Remember what the Queen said.

As the Awoken hastily spirited the royal family away to the safety of the Reef after the assault on the Black Garden, the Queen had bade them a hasty goodbye, stating that they were welcome at the Reef. She probably hadn't known her brother, Prince Uldren, had threatened Martin's best friend, Silverhawk, with death if she ever set foot in the Reef.

But he'd never mentioned that threat being extended to Martin. Of course, it could have been implied, and he may have just missed it. But surely, the Queen wouldn't let her brother kill him? She'd said they were welcome in her realm, after all...

His nerves seized hold of him, and his breaths turned shaky. He caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, and Peppermint leapt up into his lap, the weight of her paws on his legs making him feel just a little bit better. She mewed up at him, and he reached down to rub her under the chin obligingly, trying to focus on the feeling of soft fur beneath his fingers.

After all these years, the gift kitten of Tevis, delivered by Andal Brask, was a kitten no longer, and served a double purpose as a therapy animal. She was at his side during his sick days, and kept him calm(mostly) when he was flying.

"We'll be okay, Peppermint." he was certain he was trying to reassure himself more than he was the cat. "We're welcome in the Reef."

He swallowed hard. He remembered Mars, when he'd tried to get some Clovis Bray tech. He remembered running into a Cabal lookout at the edge of a river. He remembered running for the entrance as it began to crumble away from the cliffside, a steel cable snapping across his chest.

He remembered getting sucked down below the water, blacking out momentarily as his head struck something hard. He remembered clawing for the surface, coughing and gasping as his head met air. He remembered diving below again, finding the limp form in the water, sinking to the back of the lookout. He remembered pulling her to the surface, dragging her through the water, liquid trickling from her mouth as he brought her to shore, the struggle to restore her breathing that followed.

Momentarily letting go of the controls completely, Martin gathered his cat up in his arms, letting warm white fluff press against his face. That won't happen again. There are no rivers in the Reef. Well, I suppose there are particle rivers of electro-emissions from-

A beeping alerted him to the fact that they were approaching the asteroid belt, and he stopped hugging his pet. He dropped out of high-speed travel, and the strange purple mist of the Reef greeted him.

Petra Venj wasn't in danger from drowning anymore. Now, she was in danger from a threat that came from within. The House of Wolves reborn wasn't as reborn as they had thought; him and Silverhawk had caught a Vandal with the royal crest on his armor having a nice chat with a free Wolf Baron.

The Wolves of the Reef were traitors. Or, at least, some of them were. Which put a lot of people in danger, Petra maybe being the least among them, from a ranking point of view. The Queen and her brother, as well as Martin's Fallen friend in the House of Judgment, Variks, would likely be the most prime candidates for assassination.

He swallowed hard again.

"We could see Petra again. Won't that be fun?" he asked. He got a meow in response, and Peppermint curled up in his lap, licking one paw, as he drew closer to the asteroids. He shivered, shutting his eyes tight briefly as he approached.

Please, please don't let me crash!


It had been a little over three weeks since the Della Tay scare. Uldren felt stress plucking at his insides just being away from Mara's side. She was still limping slightly, thanks to Tay, the Vex, and some very... rowdy velociraptors that the Vex had set on her in the Black garden. Honestly, what is she thinking, having me run fool's errands when Tay could come back at a moment's notice?

Mara had decided that the 'Skolas problem', as she referred to it, could use a Guardian's touch. At his protest, she'd stated that, as he was spending all of his time guarding her, with the high level threat of Tay still on the priority list, they needed extra hands with guns. Hands capable of ripping Skolas apart with Light.

So, according to Petra Venj, the Last City had sent a Hunter, and at the last moment, though it was not official, a Warlock. At hearing this, he wanted to scream and throw the report across the room.

A Hunter and a Warlock. Aka... most likely Silverhawk and Martin. Technically, they had more experience with working with the Reef than most Guardians, it would make sense, tactically, to send them.

If it was them...

He didn't care how big a threat Della Tay was; he was throwing himself out an airlock. He could not deal with Silverhawk again. They had arrived this morning; at least, the Hunter had, anyway, according to one of his Crows. He'd groaned when he heard the Hunter was a woman. Silverhawk for sure! He'd mourned internally. It had to be her, by way of convenience.

Mara wanted him to go over all the information they had about the reborn House of Wolves with Petra and the Guardians, which was why he was down at the Vestian outpost instead of at his sister's side, where he was supposed to be.

Taking a deep breath and crossing his fingers, hoping above hope that it wasn't Silverhawk and Martin, Uldren stepped into the War Room.

The first thing he noticed, with a flash of relief, was that Petra was there. At least, if it was the idiot duo, he would have one sane person on his side. The second thing he noticed, was that there was a noticeable lack of a bright red fedora in the room.

The third thing he noticed was the woman Petra was with.

She was tall, with jet black, waist-length hair, bangs braided and running along the side of her head to meet and trail down in one long braid running down her back with the rest of her loose hair. She was, he noticed with surprise, an Awoken. He'd yet to meet any Awoken Guardians. Her robes were a deep, rich, sapphire blue, with black laced with golden triangles running down the middle of her torso and back. There was... a katana, of all things, strapped at her waist, and a pulse rifle of some sort strapped to her back, looking as if it had seen better days.

Wait... was that a set of shurikens dangling from a string around her neck?

Her face was smooth, elegant, and serious-looking, with high cheekbones and a very Native American appearance all about her features. Except for her eyes. She turned to lock gazes with him as he entered the room, and gold met fire.

For that was the best word to describe her eyes. Fire. It was like looking into a raging wildfire, burning and glowing ambers and golds with flecks of red embers that were barely noticeable but there all the while. It was like no other pair of eyes he'd ever seen before. Some Awoken had amber or orange, sometimes red eyes, gold was a color generally unique to his family, but this woman's eyes were... unnatural.

"So the Prince decided to show after all." she commented wryly, without one drop of humor in her voice. Her fire-like eyes seemed to pin him to that spot, that plane of existence; right there, standing in the doorway. Her voice was strong, but slightly raspy in some way, though it was barley detectable. An old injury, perhaps? She was certainly old enough for it, in her line of work; she looked to be about his age, and being a Guardian was considerably more dangerous than being a Crow, from what he'd seen and heard.

"Prince Uldren." Petra greeted, giving a small bow. She gave a small gester to the Warlock beside her, as if to introduce her, but the woman held up her hand swiftly, like justice.

"I introduce myself, and when I want to. All we're missing now is Rogers, and that...Fallen thing of yours." Uldren decided that, whomever she was, he didn't like the way she was talking about Variks, for that was the only one she could be talking about, judging from the context of her speech. He didn't know the Fallen scribe personally, but he certainly had his uses, and had, as such, earned Uldren's respect in the same way Petra had.

"Variks is not a thing." Petra asserted, looking miffed. The woman, whom in his head he referred to as "glaring dragon-lady of fiery death and despair", disregarded this as one would the babbling of an annoying younger child.

"Prince Uldren." he heard a meaningful semi-cough from behind him. He turned to see Variks, and suddenly realized he was blocking the way in for the scribe. He hastily backed out of the way, and the scribe entered, giving a small bow in Uldren's direction. Behind him followed a second figure that he almost missed.

She carried herself as if she were trying to make herself seem as unnoticeable and unimportant as possible, shoulders hunched slightly, wearing the hood of her cloak indoors, and not meeting his gaze as he took her in for the first time.

This was the Huntress the Last City had sent them. She wore a combination of green and brown camo armor. She wore a bronze-colored cloak that tapered to a narrow edge off to one side, with a metal bar of some sort coming out the back, and snaking around the front of her neck before ending at her opposite shoulder.

She had an abundance of knives on her person as well. He could at least thirteen visible blades on her person within the first few seconds of looking at her. She was someone who clearly liked sharp objects; more specifically, throwing them at things, judging by the fact most of the knives he saw were styled for throwing.

Other than that, the only other weapon he could see was a hand cannon, strapped to her upper leg and obviously lacking love in favor of the three rather wicked-looking large throwing knives strapped where the gun would normally have been placed on a Guardian's hip.

He couldn't be sure, since her hood was up, but her hair seemed to be a pale, mousy, cream-like sandy-blond color, and her skin was a pale color, marking her as human. She glanced up at him once, and he saw that her eyes were a rather interesting crystal-like silver-blue color.

Then she looked back down at the ground, and took a place farther back in the room, away from the others, her Ghost following her. Uldren closed the door as she and Variks got settled in, the scribe distancing himself from the fire-eyed Awoken Warlock.

"All right, that makes all of us then." Petra clapped her hands together in anticipation, looking eager to start the hunt. "I understand that a few introductions are in order. You all know who I am of course, and honestly, if you don't recognize the Prince then you seriously need to get out more."

"This is Variks, with the House of Judgment; he'll be working the comms with me, and will supply information about the Fallen as need be." she introduced. The scribe nodded, seeming unsure as to what he was supposed to do now that Petra had introduced him.

"Variks, Uldren, this is-"

"Padfoot." She was cut off by the Hunter's Ghost, who was dark brown with white stripes running up to the "brow" points on his shell along the middle of the top and bottom triangular nodes. He repeated himself with a spin. "My name is Padfoot. 'Pads', for short if you must. My Guardian is Sierra Rogers, and she's all glum about this. Personally, I'm actually quite a bit excited."

Uldren blinked, surprised, and when he looked at her, he saw that Petra was having a similar reaction. Do Ghost's normally speak for their Guardians like that?

"All...right then. Padfoot and Rogers. They'll be working in the field with... er, our other friend here." Petra continued, gesturing to the Warlock.

"Lies." she stated, crossing her arms. Uldren blinked, confused.

"She is telling the truth, yes? I hear no lies in Petra's words." Variks commented, sounding confused. He flinched as the Awoken turned the full, fiery force of her glare on him.

"L-y-s-e. Lyse. That's my name, Fallen, not an accusation." she sneered.

"Ah." the scribe stood back, before addressing her again. "But, if it is spelt that way, it would be pronounced 'lice', yes?"

"IT'S 'LIES' YOU COCKROACH! 'LIES'! REMEMBER IT!"

GOOD GRIEF! What is it with this woman!? Her shout made them all jump, and Variks nearly tripped. Petra looked startled, and maybe a little wary of the Warlock. Rogers jumped at least three feet into the air, and he did a double take as a glint of silver caught his eye.

"Rogers." he said warningly. She'd taken out one of the long throwing knives at her side, and was fingering it as if she'd been about ready to throw. He made a quick mental note about how quick she was to her blades. She looked at him, blinked rapidly, then sheathed her knife, lowering her gaze once more, and seeming to try and retreat further into herself as all eyes went to her.

It was clear to him now that, whomever Rogers was, she was either hiding something, or deathly shy. She glanced up at them all once more, before looked back down. After a while, she made an odd 'go on, then' kind of gester, and Petra turned back to cast a one-eyed glare at Lyse.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't insult the people you're going to be working with, Lyse." she said. "And make an effort to be more calm around Rogers. No-one wants to see you with a knife sticking out of your face"

Actually, I think I kind of do.

"I'm not taking orders from a disgraced, one-eyed emissary. Why should I obey someone who got nine of my fellow guardians killed?" Lyse sneered. Oh, she did NOT just go 'there'! He thought as Petra tensed. Petra had learned from her past mistakes, and proven herself better for it. She had more than earned her post at home with her actions during and after the disease crisis. And even he wouldn't go so low as to make sharp comments about her... eye problem.

"Then you'll be taking orders from me." He leered in her direction. He felt like she was trying to scorch him with her eyes when she met his gaze.

"There's only one man I take orders from." She stated challengingly. He was almost starting to wish it was Silverhawk and Martin; at least that Warlock was more submissive, albeit useless.

"Well, he ordered you to come to the Reef, therefore, by extension, he ordered you to obey whoever was put in charge of you." Rogers' Ghost spoke up. He thought the tiny being might burst into flame as Lyse turned the full force of her glare on him. "So you really should listen to Uldren and Petra, I think."

Hm. Strange Ghost. He thought as Rogers reached up a hand to pull him out of sight, one hand on the hilt of a knife, silver-blue eyes cast warningly in Lyse's direction. His experience with Ghosts as individuals was very limited, but he'd never seen or heard of one sassing a Guardian like that. Let alone a Guardian that didn't belong to them.

Lyse sneered at him, but said nothing more. Uldren decided to get the debriefing over with as fast as he could, and tossed a data pad onto the table.

"This," he said, "is all we have on the reborn House of Wolves. Rogers, Lyse, your Ghosts will have access to it at their leisure once they're in our system."

Padfoot floated across to the table, Rogers reaching out to stop him, only to pull back and pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation. The little brown robot scanned the pad quickly, and looked up at Uldren.

"This," he said, "is the tiniest file, I have ever seen."

"We've been… busy." He told Padfoot vaguely. He'd had his Crows mostly focused on looking out for Tay. He had, over the last few weeks, tightened security tenfold on the palace. The Vestian outpost had been hastily established as a launching point for the Wolf campaign, and a checking station to keep an eye out for threats near the edge of the Reef.

Upon returning to the Reef after rescuing Mara, Uldren had had little time to get his wounds tended to; he'd been pounded with duty after duty, with a throbbing headache to boot. Petra Venj, had, yet again, proved her worth in the situation.

However, he'd discovered that, while they were gone, she'd had Variks locked up under the suspicion that he'd been in on the attack, though he'd suffered a concussion from the initial blast. The Emissary had taken no chances, but her suspicions were proved false, by Mara's testimony and Variks'(albiet slightly slurred, due to the concussion; he'd even occasionally go off in his native language, at which point they'd had to bring in a translator) re-accounting of the incident.

During this very patient 'interrogation', the concussed scribe had let slip that he'd discovered Skolas was alive. Everyone present had immediately been forced to take a vow of silence on the matter. This was a problem that had to be solved quietly, with out the Reef Fallen knowing what was happening.

Another reason he'd tightened security, with more Awoken guards than Fallen. He didn't trust anyone, if word did slip to them that Skolas was freed. So far, Variks was the only Fallen in the Reef to know of Skolas's return. Not even his two lone housemates, Havicks and Korik, knew.

Almost literally, as soon as Tay's initial threat was gone, they'd had another bombshell thrown at them. The Reef's problems were pileing up, and Uldren and the Paladins had been busier than ever since then. On that note, it made sense to have hired these Guardians. Padfoot's shell twisted.

"I'd imagine so. You know, this kind of reminds me of that one time, with the Cabal Centurion." he started, turning to Rogers. "Remember that, Sierra? Ha, I'll never forget the look on his face when you popped his helmet off and shot the data bank I was trying to hack at the same time."

Rogers let out a breathy sigh between her teeth that clearly told the Ghost had been bugging her about this particular incident. Padfoot turned back to Uldren.

"She really has a problem with me hacking while she's shooting. I told her it might be important, but noooo, apparently Zavala's evac order was so much more important, especially when she's never listened to an evac order in her entire-hey!" He was cut off as Rogers stomped forwards and snatched him, red in the face. She marched out the door, slamming it behind her.

"Excuse me, we're in the middle of a meeting here!" Uldren exclaimed in exasperation. So, perhaps Rogers could be as bad as Silverhawk. Well, maybe not as bad; her Ghost's done most of the talking. A great and blessed change from Silverhawk's constant chattering.

Though he could easily imagine her saying some very sharp things to the little robot out in the hall. He thought he could hear muffled protests. Uldren glared at her as she reentered the war room, still quite red, and trying to look ahead with at least one iota of dignity. Padfoot floated in behind her, grumbling under his breath, and dissipated, most likely fusing into his Guardians armor, as she took her place at the back of the room again.

"Try to keep your rouge Ghost under control, Rogers." Lyse sneered. Damn! He knew what was coming before it happened. Padfoot materialized again, shell twisting angrily.

"Rouge Ghost!? What's all this about a 'rogue' Ghost!?" he bristled furiously. "I'll rogue you!"

Rogers, witheringly, gripped the tiny being in her fist, looking like she might want to sink into the void itself, casually holding him back while he tried to fly at Lyse. Uldren had been slammed by a Ghost before, in the Black Garden; a rather pointy-shelled, sharp-tounged little thing by the name of Bessy.

Surprisingly, it actually hurt a lot. If they flew at you hard enough, it was almost like being shot or hit with a rock. Rogers drew him back("Let me go! Lemme at 'em!") and pulled her cloak around, wrapping him up in it and crossing her arms around him to make sure he didn't escape. If she wasn't embarrassed before, Hunter Rogers was now completely mortified.

He was just as eager to get this debriefing done as she was, so he decided to spare her further shame. After all, Padfoot had disrupted the meeting enough as it was; Uldren was really too much pressed for time to incite a full-blown 'flurry', as it was called when a Ghost started slamming people repetitively. The paperwork involved wasn't worth it, let alone the blow to his dignity.

"Our first priority is locating Skolas exactly." he said, ignoring the muffled ranting that could be heard from Rogers' cloak("I WILL DEFEND MY HONOR!"). "After that, the Silent Fang will have to be targeted. We don't want them here at the Reef trying to get at our commanders; we have enough problems as it is."

"What of their other hierarchy? The Barons, Archons? Do they have a Prime that we know of?" Petra questioned. Variks shook his head.

"No information suggests they have retrieved a Prime. If they do, a Prime would be very... noticeable, yes? Would be no trouble finding it." he told them. He flinched as Lyse turned her gaze on him.

"Noticeable how?" she grunted.

"Primes give off energy emissions; anomalous readings, as they break down materials for ether." He explained. "And where there is Prime, there is Archon, yes? Would... what is that... metaphor? It is about killing birds..."

"Killing two birds with one stone?" Padfoot offered, poking out of Rogers' arms slightly. He gave a muffled protest as she pulled the cloak over him again.

"Yes, yes that is the one. I think so." Variks nodded uncertainly.

"I have several Crows out searching for him. If they find him, we'll know the instant they catch sight of his miserable hind end." Uldren informed then, sneering. Skolas. We should have killed him when we had the chance.

He hadn't the fuzziest idea as to what in the world had possessed his sister to give Skolas to the Nine... It wasn't as if I knew where the Nine's borders were! It was their own fault for not setting up a perimeter!

"How the heck did Skolas escape, and who by Crota's hind end was the one in charge of keeping him contained?" Lyse asked rudely. Oh, the Nine; Uldren's favorite subject.

"My sister gave him to the Nine because of a 'supposed' breach on their borders. As if anyone knew they had borders in the first place." Uldren told her, looking her in the eye. Now that he was growing accustomed to the strange coloration, her gaze wasn't nearly as shocking, though he still got the feeling she might be able to literally scorch him with her eyeballs.

"A 'supposed' breach caused by you?" Either she was smarted than she looked, wanted to pick a fight... or there really was something about that statement that was right to set off the little red flags in his head.

"And how would you know who caused the breach?" he challenged.

"Intuition." she answered vaguely. He regarded her with narrowed eyes, still suspicious.

"I would be more concerned with how he escaped... them." Petra put in with a small shudder.

"We can worry about that, after Skolas is dead." Uldren told her, straightening himself. "For now, the Guardians can get... settled in. Not too settled, mind you; if it were up to me, neither of you would be here. You have your information; now wait until it's time to fight."

With that, he turned and opened the door, stepping out into the hall before anyone else could get a word in. Time to return to where I should really be.

At Mara's side.


The Prince wasn't what either of them had expected, in all honesty. Sierra could see him now, waiting and seething with impatience as he snapped at someone on the other line of a communications terminal of sorts.

They'd both heard the horror stories, of course. An Awoken Prince with a nasty temper towards Hunters and Guardians in general; which was somewhat ironic, considering she'd thought he was a fellow Hunter when she first walked into the war room. Of all they'd heard of him, a Hunter-escue Awoken with his hair tied behind his head messily, bangs escaping it, was the last thing she'd expected.

Though I suppose they were right about the constant sneer. One would almost think he and Lyse were kin, the way they both seemed to leer at everything.

"So... whatever happened to 'getting it done quickly', hmm?" Padfoot asked slyly from her left. She ignored him, still peeved at his behavior in the war room. Whatever happened to 'don't attract attention to us', hmmm? She mocked mentally.

"Hmm, could you actually be taking my advice about seeing this as a fresh start?" he pondered out loud. She continued to ignore him. The last thing she wanted was for him to know he was right.

Out here, at the Reef, nobody knew about what was wrong with her. To those she would fight alongside, except maybe Lyse, she was just as equal a warrior as they were in every aspect. At least, for a while, anyway. Perhaps if she could prove herself before they judged her for one silly little disability? She found herself snorting outloud at the thought.

No way that will ever happen; they'll find out long before our first mission. Besides, it would probably be wise to tell them about it before she went into the field. After all, there would probably come a point where Padfoot would be too busy to help her. He'd be hacking something and unable to do what she needed him to...

The prince yelled angrily at whoever he was talking to. It was actually kind of funny, seeing him angry. She let out an amused snort. He slammed something on the communication port, ending the conversation. Turning away, he double-took, catching sight of her, and she froze, panic gripping her.

Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me... She silently begged him. She suddenly realized she was staring, and gave a small, hesitant wave to try and make things a little less awkward, before turning away and heading back the way she had come, face turning hot, heart pounding.

Oh, how she hated the beginning! The beginning was always the hardest, before everyone found out. Afterwards, she'd let the flames of defiance reign her every move, right up until the complaint was sent to the Vanguard to have her removed from the Fireteam.

So far... she'd had six. How many times did she have to prove herself before everyone got the message? Cayde-6 didn't seem to get the message that she worked best alone, with nobody to judge her. Yet despite both her and Zavala's protests, he kept assigning her teams, pressing that "Nobody'll care, once they can see what you can do."

She'd yet to meet anyone who supported this statement. Some people were nice about it; some coddled her too much, made her feel sick and worthless. Others were much more… heated about her placement to their team. But it all ended the same way.

So lost in thought was she, she didn't notice she'd strode into one of the zones where they were still working on construction of the outpost. So she didn't notice the scarlet-robed Warlock that had spotted her, and was running towards her, until he called out for her.

"Hey! Hunter! E-excuse me! Hey!" he called, startling her, as he ran up to her. Immediately, she noticed that something was wrong. He looked terrified. He wore scarlet robes, with a brown tunic beneath, and his bond was plain and gray. His sandy-brown hair was ruffled and misshapen, and his round, copper wire framed glasses looked like they had seen better days, a crack in the left lens. She froze. This was it, where someone found out.

"I need to know who's in charge of this outpost!" he declared urgently, wringing the sleeves of his robes stressedly. This guy needs to calm down. He looked like he was about to have an anxiety attack or something!

Before she could answer, or do much of anything, a shout came from above... right before a heavy tool of some sort landed on the Warlock's head. She drew in a sharp gasp.

"Oh my!" Padfoot exclaimed as the young man slumped forwards. Sierra lunged forwards and caught him before he could hit the ground. She lowered him to the floor gently, and rolled him over, running a hand over where whatever it was had hit him, checking for a dent in his skull.

A workman who had scrambled down rushed towards them as Padfoot gave the downed Warlock a scan.

"I'm sorry! My hand slipped! I'm sorry! Is he dead?!" the workman asked panicedly.

"Hello? This is Hunter Sierra Rogers' Ghost, Padfoot. We need a med team up in construction site C, blunt force trauma to the head." Padfoot said suddenly. "No he wasn't wearing a helmet; he's not a worker! He was trying to talk to my Guardian, she tends to wander aimlessly when she's thinking deeply. SHE WAS THINKINY DEEPLY! NO, SHE DIDN'T NOTICE WHERE SHE WAS GOINIG! HEY, WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, THAT'S MY GUARDIAN YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, YOUNG LADY!"

Suddenly, the Guardian stirred with a low moan. Sierra's hand drifted automatically to one of her knives when something in his top pocket moved, but she relaxed when a Ghost in a red and white shell emerged sheepishly. The Guardian's eyes opened, and he looked up at her confusedly.

"Martin?" the newcomer Ghost asked tenetivly, sounding afraid. He looked at the robot with an even more puzzled expression.

"Martin? Who's this… Martin?" he asked. Sierra's brow furrowed; it was her turn to be confused now. Why is he speaking in a Spanish accent? He hadn't been doing that before. He tried to haul himself to his feet, rubbing his head where it had been hit.

"Whoa, whoa! Take it easy!" Padfoot warned as the Warlock got up, Sierra helping to steady him.

"You're Martin!" the Guardian's Ghost insisted at the same time. 'Martin' looked even more confusedly at the Ghost, and then suddenly fierce.

"My name," he declared, as Sierra felt something drop in her gut, "is Inigo. Inigo Montoya."

At that moment, Padfoot said out loud exactly what she was thinking.

"Oh, thrall spit."


Okay, here is where we launch once more unto the breach of ridiculousness that we had in Fever. I literally thought up of the most cliché thing I could, and wrote it down. Because after Heartbusters, and with all the... depressing, dramatic stuff that's been happening in 15 Seconds lately, I decided to do something completely ridiculous with at least the beginning of this fic.

Because to be perfectly honest with you... the humor factor will be dialing down a bit as we approach the climax of the series and the Brask/Ashraven plot comes to a head. That's what I'm calling it; it's vague, and fits the bill.

And YAY! I finally introduced you all properly to Padfoot! ^^ He's may favorite Ghost!

This Is Sarcasm: Yup.^^

jsm1978: I have the innate inability to keep my fics to myself for very long, no matter how much I say it'll be a while. I've just kept it in for so long, I felt the need to vomit writing onto the site before I went mad.

MaybeALittleBroken: Yes. Yes you have. Here, talk with Padfoot; he likes arriving, too.

Guest: It's nice to be back, Jerald. now, onto our favorite weatherman, Marcus Daryll!

Oh, I think you guys are going to flip at the next chapter. Martenj supporters specifically(Order and Chaos, I'm looking at you). Several people have wanted to see more Martenj. Wish granted.

That being said, here's Lyse. And Sierra rogers. Let me know what you think about Rogers; I'm trying to write her character just right, or else it'll all blow up in my face. I've been waiting to introduce her character, excited for it, actually, considering my idea for her only came near the end of summer. She's a relatively new addition to my Dysfunctional Fireteam dream. She's a baby, a bit less developed in my head than all these other characters, even Lyse. She does love her knives, though. She loves her knives a lot. And Padfoot. She loves her Ghosty-whosty.

Lyse... enough said. You can go ahead and freak out now that miss tall, dark and scary is RIGHT FREAKING HERE in the Reef!

Next Time: Inigo is a Spaniard with a plan, though he has no idea what said plan is, and Sierra needs to practice restraint with her knives.

Cheers!^^