"Guardian."

"Commander Zavala."

Orron wasn't sure if the older Awoken Titan ever changed out of his armor. It fit Zavala, Orron thought, that he had only one outfit. The Commander had only one mindset to match. Duty. Discipline. For his part, Orron was wearing a sharp, slate-grey military-style tunic and trousers. All Guardians had the option to purchase them for non-combat wear. Orron was pretty sure he'd only ever seen Titans don them. There were a couple ribbons pinned on, a Vanguard insignia on the sleeve, and gold piping on the sleek epaulets that marked him as a "Section Captain". He wasn't sure what it meant, and to match his uncertainty, he was sure few other Guardians cared.

"The Vanguard has reviewed your footage from the Hellas Basin mission, particularly the Hive lair and your encounter with Xol."

Zavala paused, as if waiting for Orron to say something, but he didn't, so he continued.

"We'd like you to make another expedition back to the Basin and investigate the Hive activity further. Nokris might be dead, or banished to his Throne Realm, which we have no idea how to access. He didn't have the arrogance Oryx had, apparently. Further, we'd like to to investigate the boundaries of the region and scout the Red Legion presence said to be building there."

This was normal stuff, Orron thought. There was something missing.

"Understood, sir. What about the Clovis Bray facilities?"

The change in Zavala's demeanor was nearly imperceptible. If Orron hadn't been working with him for four - no, five years, he probably wouldn't have noticed, but it was there. The slight lowering of those striking black eyebrows, the smallest of twists at the corner of his mouth…

"Stay away from them, Orron. I don't want you becoming any more involved with Rasputin."

The usage of Orron's real name. That was the kicker. Commander Zavala using the given name of his fellow Titan meant he was serious. It wasn't the first time someone had used his name for effect, Orron found himself thinking. When his mother was upset with him-... NO. He stopped the thought almost as it had begun. Orron had no family. Orron didn't have a mother. Orron didn't even have a last name, like Ana Bray. He didn't have a past, an accomplishment that had persisted even as he hadn't, like Ana Bray. And that accomplishment…

"Commander, I'm afraid that Rasputin had decided to become more involved with us."

He knew why he had said it, but at the same time, he didn't. Yes, it was honest, and Orron was an honest man if nothing else - but it was...unnecessary. He didn't need to share it.

"Explain yourself, Guardian."

Too late now.

"Commander...last night, while uploading my data to the Tower's databanks, Rasputin...contacted me."

"Contacted you how?"

"He was, ehm, in my helmet's computer somehow. He hijacked my console, in my barracks room, and -.."

"And now he's in the City's systems, infiltrating our defense network, reading our internal files and data," Zavala said, finishing his sentence. It wasn't how Orron meant to finish the thought, but he supposed none of it was false, probably.

The flash of rage on Zavala's face wasn't directed at Orron, not really, and for a minute the younger Titan thought the Commander would curse, or something. He didn't, of course, and the expression cleared within seconds, but there was no mistaking Zavala's frustration.

"Ikora and her Warlocks will have to secure our most secret files, if it's not too late. Thank you for...bringing this to my attention, Guardian. What did Rasputin...well, what does he want?"

"He requested that I speak with him and Ana at the Clovis Bray facility, sir."

"That's all?"

"Yes sir."

"Do not meet with him, Guardian. That's an order."

Orron waited for any further comments from Zavala, who had turned, back to him, and faced the edge of the balcony on the Tower. The city was spread out before him, still rebuilding after the Red Legion's invasion and ruinous occupation.

"You're dismissed," the Commander said, sounding a bit peeved. Orron clicked his heels and about-faced, striding from Zavala's favorite catwalk back to the main courtyard of the tower. He nodded greetings to a few Guardians he saw - Elin, a newer Warlock, slim and pale and the least bit awkward, Kellen, a Hunter with a rough exterior but a heart of gold - Orron was sure that trait was a prerequisite to even be a Hunter - and another Titan, Markos, who Orron had been on a fireteam with once. He was pretty sure he'd only used his fists the entire fight, and Orron would be lying to himself if he'd said he hadn't been impressed.

The Guardian barracks were deep in the belly of the tower, down several floors from the hangars and vendors of the summit. Narrow, labyrinthine hallways were filled with doors, the seemingly endless rows of which were punctuated by common spaces with telescreens, couches, and microwaves. Every couple of floors was a mess hall; Orron's was two floors down. His grey uniform tunic blended with the smooth concrete walls, sometimes plain, sometimes decorated with posters or banners of every sports team, faction, and club in the entire City.

Orron's room was halfway down the massive corridor, sandwiched between two identical suites, one of which was empty. The Hunter who had lived there, Palla, had been a friend of Orron's. She had died when Ghaul took their light, somewhere in the wilderness. Her belongings had been emptied out of the room, and now the brass plaque next to the door with her name on it stood as the only memorial, the only reminder. She had lived, and she had died - a tool, a weapon, the perfect Guardian.

His barracks door hissed open, and Orron quickly stripped out of the stiff uniform tunic, trousers, and boots and began the process of putting on his armor. First, the jumpsuit underneath it, form-fitting and the last line of defense, able to somewhat mitigate violent physical blows that got through his heavy armor. Then, the chest padding, a sleeveless tunic of thick fabric that provided cushioning for his breastplate. The armor itself was last, and Orron was just sealing his boots when Ghost materialized.

"You're not going to actually listen to Zavala about Clovis Bray, are you?"

There was a challenge in Ghost's voice, but Orron wasn't sure if it was to follow the Commander's orders or to disobey them.

"What do you think?"

"I think he's being shortsighted...but I also think Rasputin shouldn't be trusted."

Orron mulled over the sentiment and found he largely agreed, despite his better judgement. He had his orders, and he had to follow them...but the benefit to the City, to the people of the City, could be immeasurable if the archives of Clovis Bray could be broken open and exploited.

"Ana Bray, then. We can request a meeting with her...maybe outside the compound itself so I'm not disobeying orders. We can see what she has to say…"

"Orron, I thought my Guardian was a Titan. You're starting to sound like a Hunter."

He smiled hollowly. The thought bothered him more than he'd have liked it to.

/ A bit of a slow chapter, just wanted to get a little bit of worldbuilding, character development, and lay the groundwork for the plot. This is my first fic ever, so please review with constructive criticism and what I can improve! Thank you to all the readers! - tkentk