It was ironic, really: Now that he finally committed to staying alive, Slaine figured his chances of surviving the current situation were slim. Those damned claw-wielding creatures were practically nipping at his heels, trailing him as he moved from cover to cover, while more advanced kinds – apparently named Vandals – held back, attempting to snipe at him from a distance with what seemed to be wire rifles. To make matters worse, the snipers were capable of calling up some kind of impervious shield; he had only discovered this annoying fact after wasting a few rounds of ammunition on the translucent, inky blue-black domes.

As worrisome as the scenario was, he was getting more than a little annoyed. It wasn't as if he could retreat and form some measure of a plan to deal with this mess; the swarm of hostiles had him cut off from escape routes. Hell, at this point he wouldn't completely object to blowing himself up out of frustration if there was some guarantee it would take some of these bastards down with him. Getting agitated wouldn't help, but it wasn't as if he could stop himself.

"Ugh...these sure are...a lot more resilient," he grunted as he ducked behind a fern-covered rock outcropping to reload, the sharp edges digging unpleasantly into his back. Another of the clawed creatures closed the distance; he gave it a good shove away with the flat of his palm. Much to his surprise, the creature instantly disintegrated in some sort of electrical charge as he did. Not that he had the luxury of exploring yet another new aspect of his abilities with these bizarre enemies relentlessly bearing down on him.

The towhead risked a glance out from behind his cover, aiming down the sights of his rifle with the intent to deal with the Vandals. He considered ways to close the distance while somehow managing to avoid claw rakes, giant energy globes, and comparatively simple gunfire, already shifting into position for a desperate run. "I think now might be the time to put those explosives to use, but I'll need to get closer to those snipers."

Before the Ghost could respond, said snipers abruptly and inexplicably began to taper off, one by one imploding in the tell-tale black vortexes. Where there had been five of them, now there seemed to be only one making a nuisance out of itself. It was more than a little worrisome that the others had suddenly disappeared, but the window he'd been suddenly provided was too valuable not to take advantage of. It might have been a trap, but his instincts were all but screaming at him that now was the time to act.

He shifted again to deal with the remaining sniper, only to be interrupted by another wave of rapidly-moving creatures with a singular white orb on the middle of what could have only been their heads closing in on his position. It seemed as good a place as any to fire at. He took aim, but before he could so much as fire off a shot, the creatures similarly imploded on themselves in rapid succession. That could only mean one thing: there was someone else here, and that someone else was purposefully helping him.

"A sniper, probably a Hunter! We're saved!" his Ghost announced in jubilance and relief.

"Don't start celebrating yet. I still don't have a visual on that ship," Slaine retorted before emptying the magazine on the ridiculously tall blue-black creature currently throwing massive orbs of energy at him. He didn't quite move fast enough to avoid the edge of one and was temporarily blinded – not to mention in a considerable amount of pain – for a moment before his health started regenerating. "And we still have this damned thing to worry about! What the hell is it?"

"A Captain, from the looks of it," the diminutive AI replied, ascending just long enough to catch a glimpse before ducking to avoid a shot from one of the remaining snipers. "But at that size, it's closer to an Archon. It shouldn't be that big…"

Suddenly, Slaine was forced to find new cover as the trailer he had been ducking behind was abruptly destroyed.

"...Or that powerful!" the Ghost squawked indignantly.

Fortunately, a concrete pillar was more than adequate to shield him, and he made a desperate scramble for it, barely avoiding yet another orb passing by overhead. But though the cover was decent, none of his returning fire appeared to do much damage...if any.

"Would you like to go over there and let him know he shouldn't be that strong?" he replied sardonically.

While his Ghost seemed to be acclimating to his companion's rather dry sense of humour, that didn't stop it from being unamused. How a diminutive machine could affect sulking remained a mystery. "Very funny."

Despite his quip, Slaine understood quite clearly that if he didn't think of something fast, whatever resolve he'd found would be useless. Inexplicably, he could feel the Light pulsing within him, perhaps an indication he would be able to throw another grenade soon, but his throw would have to be precise and perfectly-timed. He doubted just throwing it at the looming monstrosity was going to be of much use, particularly with a nigh-impenetrable orange-tinged shield covering it. Maybe if he could find some way to amplify its power using some scrap parts to cobble together a Tesla coil or something similar...

His eyes fell on a pile of nearby wreckage, likely from whatever ship had crash-landed on the site. It seemed that his luck had changed: he could make out the muted verdigris of copper wiring jutting out from a ruined plastic cable, probably enough for his desperate plan. Slaine had to low crawl through the moist dirt to reach it, but now he needed a distraction long enough to dig out what he needed and jury-rig the coil.

Salvation – or at least the necessary distraction – came in the form of their hidden ally.

Even as he struggled to pull the cables out of the rubble, more shots from whomever it was providing cover fire rapidly took out the clawed creatures closing in. That sealed it; he was definitely being helped. Slaine might have even saluted the mysterious sniper in gratitude if his metaphorical and literal hands weren't already full with his attempt to wrest the wiring from decaying concrete. As it stood, the towhead was forced to glance up periodically to make sure the twitching creatures were not descending on him yet again even as he struggled with the stubborn wiring. Thankfully from the looks of it, his mysterious ally was more than capable of keeping them at bay.

Once he'd freed enough, he hastily wrapped the wiring around his forearms – it seemed as good a place as any to keep it while he continued to frantically work – he moved to fish out whatever else he could salvage for the desperate plan. The thick cloth of his longcoat should be sufficient enough insulation for the moment...at least he hoped so. But if a decent coil could be cobbled together, he might just have a chance at survival by channeling the electrical grenade through it somehow. Not that he was even sure how that would work, but he'd worry about that part when he came to it.

That was not, however, what ended up happening.

Instead of properly staying put, the Captain abruptly vanished from sight. There were only a few seconds of panic and bewilderment before it reappeared, barely a few feet away and firing down at his position with its massive rifle. The neophyte Guardian could only let out an involuntary startled squawk of "Goddammit!" before leaping back as much as he was able, barely avoiding explosive annihilation.

What was strange was that, instead of merely jumping back a several feet, a powerful blast of air from some unseen propulsion system that he currently had no time to examine sent him airborne up to a ridiculous height well above the towering Captain. Though hardly at the same speed as the madly-twitching monstrosities below, the feat itself had been so unexpected that he nearly collided with a balustrade some several stories above ground level, his left arm snapping out at the last second as he realised what had happened, desperately clinging to the rail out of pure instinct.

Great. Now what? he wondered as he hoisted himself up onto the landing and quickly surveyed the scene from his vantage point. For a split second the air around him crackled with electricity, a sign that he could probably pull off that grenade again. Regardless of his lack of a solid plan, it was not or never.

Time seemed to slow to a terrifying crawl as Slaine leapt off the landing and remained suspended in mid-air, the moment he had been waiting for having arrived with this unexpected narrow window of opportunity. The now-familiar plasma scorched the air and filled it with the scent of ozone, though not in the form of the previous grenade. Though the copper wires loosely wrapped around his forearms were nothing remotely resembling proper coils, they achieved a strange and unexpected effect.

The static electricity somehow channelled through the coils and released in a sudden strike directly below him, forming a shockwave which tore through the Captain as it sought the quickest route to the ground with a nearly deafening crack of thunder. The giant form seemed to disintegrate even as it fell, almost as if it were decomposing at a rapid rate, and Slaine found himself grateful that his helmet had protected his ears from the deluge of noise. He almost wanted to sink to his knees in relief as the adrenaline faded once the danger had passed, but it wasn't as if he was safe just yet.

"Can we celebrate now? Or better yet, find that ship?" his Ghost demanded. "I really don't want to go through all that again."

Slaine was inclined to agree, though he couldn't help but glance towards where that cover fire had come from. There was no doubt in his mind that the sniper had saved his life, but how could he even hope to repay that debt? He had nothing of value, and it was more than obvious the Hunter had little need of his help with much of anything. Yet, he couldn't help but feel an intense need to return the favour somehow, compulsion from a hidden sense of honour he hadn't even known he possessed. Unfortunately, that fulfilment of debt would never be realised as the Hunter was likely long gone by now…

His head jerked up suddenly as he caught the subtle flicker of light from near the tower's summit out of his peripheral vision. He could swear he could make out a tiny human figure from that distance, but it had to have been several kilometres away. Surely that couldn't have been his mysterious saviour, to be able to so precisely snipe his enemies from that distance. Then again, the impossible no longer seemed to be quite so impossible.

His Ghost verbally prodded him out of his musings. "Guardian? Are you alright?"

The Warlock shook himself. "Yeah...I think there's someone up on that tower over there."

Now it was the AI's turn to be startled, its almost constantly-moving components clicking and whirring as it swerved to look in the indicated direction. "All the way over there? How could they have that kind of range?"

"I was wondering the same thing, myself," he admitted. "How could that person even see me from there?"

"Not sure, but if my memory files are correct, even the longest range sniper rifles, like the Candace and Trajan models, don't have that kind of range. He's probably using a Legendary – maybe even Exotic – class weapon. Those are rare and valuable."

"As valuable as his gift at shooting," Slaine replied with appreciation.

Another click answered him. "You can tell him in person, then.. It looks like they're coming over here."

Before Slaine could even ask, the distant figure moved. And he was certain that there was something wrong with his vision, because the Hunter appeared to casually hop off the tower; easily at a height which would have severely injured – if not outright killed – a normal human being. Then again, he had just pulled off a similar stunt not too long ago. Yet, the jump appeared to be different from his own: rather than a blast of air which seemed to leave him suspended in mid-air, the distant Hunter appeared to have an initial blast which allowed him or her more speed and better control over movement.

His Ghost sounded amused at his obvious hesitation. "In case you hadn't noticed, Guardians aren't normal human beings."

The AI wouldn't have been able to see the sarcastic expression his Guardian turned on it, but he would certainly notice the traces of crackling electricity flickering around the fingers of the hand he now lifted up.

"No kidding."

Whether the Fallen milling about the compound were inattentive due to the presence of their Ether Runner, some yet-to-be-identified ability which allowed him to move around undetected, or simple luck, Inaho managed to climb up a skeletal support far enough to reach the highest catwalk surrounding what had been a cooling tower. He silently admitted that his odds of reaching his current position had been abysmal, so a matter of luck was unlikely, and not simply because he hated to rely on chance. No, it appeared that the Fallen were inattentive in their sense of security, and that was something most definitely beneficial to him.

From his vantage point, the brown-haired Guardian could make out the enemy's scattered positions undisturbed, not to mention it gave him a much better view of the compound's layout. He was thus able to make out at least three Vandals with long-range wire rifles who would easily make nuisances out of themselves should they spot him. Their habit of staggering their shots meant they were at least clever enough to know their weapons' limitation – the brief lag between firing and the bullet's impact – and compensate through their tactics. He found himself wishing for a brief moment that he could obtain one of those wire rifles to study before he turned his attention back to more pressing matters. Simply waiting for one of them to err seemed inefficient, so he would have to figure out a way to force a window of opportunity to methodically take them out. Creating a distraction would most likely do just that.

Lowering himself back down the ladder and retracing his steps, Inaho retreated back into the building he had wound his way through to get a better look at the exposed pipes and wiring. His element of surprise was nearly compromised, however, when a small group of Dreg stragglers appeared from behind an adjacent exit. Dispatching them quickly, he threw a glance over his shoulder in case the noise for the brief firefight had drawn the attention of the Fallen outside. It hadn't, possibly having been too far away and the sounds muted by concrete structures. But since he had a precious few moments to spare, the brunet checked their corpses for any equipment he could use. Aside from a few of what resembled stick grenades and even some ammunition, there was nothing particularly useful.

Standing up, he looked up once more and studied the various pipes threading across the buildings, some made from a different material than the water mains he had made use of earlier. Likely, those were the gas lines he had hoped to find earlier. If gas was still running through them, they could serve as an ideal distraction without blowing himself up in a spectacular fireball right along with his enemies.

Returning to the outside and climbing up onto the catwalk again, Inaho ducked to make himself less visible as he made his way to one of the pipes mounted a foot above the railing. Further examination proved his earlier supposition correct; this was indeed a gas main. If he could keep an ignition source small, it would effectively keep a gas explosion under the necessary control. Rust-coloured eyes fell on the odd grenades in his right hand. They resembled Model 24 Stielhandgranate from an ancient war, but with no discernable payload. Instead, the device appeared to have a small motor encasing what could only have been an electrical core. If they could be hacked so that their charge was kept miniscule, he could set them to go off at points while he closed the distance enough to disable or eliminate the servitor before dealing with the Fallen.

"Hack these so that the induction motor produces only a spark," he commanded, holding out them in his right hand extended out towards the Ghost without looking away from his work as he felt along the underside with his left. The technology was too fine-tuned and alien to attempt it himself, which left him with the task of how to secure them to the mains. The more pressing concern was the a risk of discovery while he worked. He would have to be careful. "Also, some way to activate them on a signal."

For all its obvious artificial nature, the Ghost seemed put-out at his abrupt order. However, it wisely remained silent all the way up to the point when the Warlock moved down to the stop valves and began trying to shut the smaller ones off. "Thank you for finally trusting me with something," the AI remarked sardonically. "Let me guess; you're planning on making a cannon from scratch out of this...assuming the entire place doesn't go up."

"No," Inaho corrected, not looking up from his work. "That would be impractical as well as dangerous."

"Well then...mind filling me in on what you're doing? I can do more than bring a dead body back to life and store things, you know." The Ghost seemed to be filled with pride as he said, "I also have access to a plethora of weapons systems, from old powder-propellant pre-Golden Age weapons to the latest-model pulse rifles. For instance, did you know that there are currently six different models in Hakke's Psi family of pulse rifles?"

As difficult as it was for him to understand just what kinds of other emotions the AI might have been feeling – that is, if it wasn't an elaborate simulation – the exasperation was plain enough. In all likelihood, that understanding came from the nagging suspicion that he was well-accustomed to it for the same habit of his. At least...was it a habit? The brown-haired Guardian didn't feel the need to delve into it, nor waste time explaining his plan; he only needed the Ghost to perform certain tasks when he needed them done. He really didn't want to soothe hurt feelings when the current situation was a struggle for survival.

"Guardian?" the Ghost prompted, sounding for all the world like a person trying to physically poke him to get his attention.

"I require concentration if we're to make it out alive." Silently, he was glad his flat, monotone voice gave nothing of his own exasperation away.

He could swear he heard his Ghost sigh. "Fine, you win. Just so you know, a lecture's on the horizon with that attitude. Not from me, but Commander Zavala's going to rip you a new one no matter how talented you are."

"Rip me a new what?"

"...Nevermind. Just hurry up with whatever it is you're doing," the AI complained as the grenades disappeared from his hand.

Inaho refrained from pointing out that the Ghost's distraction had already delayed him by some necessary seconds, resuming his rapid work. The longer it took, the more chances increased that his presence would be noticed. While perhaps complacent, the Fallen were certainly not completely oblivious, he would be discovered if they dawdled.

Fortunately, the peculiar construct wasted no further time with sarcastic, annoyed comments as they both worked. The reward came when moments later, it announced it had completed its work. "That part's done," it commented with a note of satisfaction.

The Guardian did not so much as reply as accepted the hacked grenade and attached it to the underside of the pipe with half-shredded plastic fibres before gripping the shutoff valve and giving it a hard turn. It was more physical exertion than he had wanted to be subjected to, but it was necessary if he wanted to avoid sending up the entire complex.

Hurrying to the second point along the second main, Inaho repeated the process. Grunting with satisfaction at his handiwork, he descended the ladder to the ground once again as quietly as possible. With his slight stature it shouldn't have been too difficult, but the heavy protective clothing he had been resurrected in likely weighed several extra kilograms. Troublesome, he thought.

Even more troublesome was having to skirt the large open area in order to reach the gas mains rimming the buildings on the other side. For all their seeming obliviousness, the Vandals at least had good eyesight or else equipment which extended their natural range of vision. The Voidwalker suspected the latter; the aliens appeared to have the advantage in darker places, so it stood to reason the bright light of open areas made it more difficult for them to see. He would have to observe them carefully for such weaknesses even as he fought; the information would be valuable later on.

The lack of stairs or a catwalk similar to the one he had used earlier had meant Inaho had to get creative in short jumps among crates and miscellaneous rubble until he managed to reach the pipes. Once the necessary hacked grenades were in place and the appropriate valves shut off, all that remained was making his way up to the top of the rusting remains of a water tower and avoiding being spotted. The climb itself meant more physical exertion, but he had found that, to his surprise, such activity was not as irksome and tiring as he had expected it to be. In fact, it was somewhat disconcerting how effortless it seemed to be. What required more effort was moving into position without alerting the hostile forces below.

After holstering his rifle at his back and hoisting himself up to the top of the tank, the russet-eyed Warlock drew his rifle and flattened himself against the top before looking down the sights of the Howa. "Detonate the first grenade," he ordered his Ghost as he shifted to aim down at the massive spherical machine glowing in smoke-like trails of violet.

At the first explosion of ignited gas, the Fallen panicked and started firing wildly at the distraction as Inaho carefully studied the Ether Runner. Large blasts of violet-hued globular light disintegrated obstacles in front of it, originating somewhere within its core and firing from the empty maw at its centre. Cold dark matter. Axions, not very different from the ones he himself had somehow harnessed. An equal reaction should efficiently destroy it, but there was no way on hand and no time to compare their respective outputs. He would just have to whittle down its defences until the seekers from his grenade – which had the benefit of tracking whatever it was thrown at – could finish the job.

Aiming for the dark "eye" of the massive servitor proved simple enough at first, especially with the Fallen around it constantly distracted by the periodic gas explosions ignited by the remaining three shock grenade placements. That was, until the machine was alerted to where his shots were coming from, swivelling around to begin returning fire. Not only was the Guardian forced to roll out of the way, but the direct line-of-sight that his vantage point gave him in turn provided nothing in the way of cover. Soon enough, that problem was no longer an issue, replaced with a bigger one; the constant barrage had weakened the already disintegrating structure. Metal beneath him groaned as if in protest as the water tower began collapsing.

It was a rather daring move on his part to leap from the falling tower directly up, but Inaho was left with little choice at that point. It was hardly the ideal time to throw an axion bolt at it, but it would deal at least some damage and buy him the necessary time to find cover. Once more, things had not gone exactly as he had planned.

Without knowing precisely why, he found himself drawing his arm back as the same tingling sensation he experienced when he first threw the axion bolt overtook him. Fortunately, it was not enough to distract him as he suddenly thrust the same arm forward, and a subconscious command released the building Light. Yet, it was not the same grenade he had somehow formed previously.

This missile was not the almost lazy arc of the grenade. Instead, the sudden straight blast of violet energy took less than a second to reach its target, blossoming into a large dome when it struck the Ether Runner. Motes of light drifted through it as the Fallen caught within the radius disintegrated immediately.

The servitor, on the other hand, was not instantly evaporated. With a violent series of shudders, its shell began cracking with dozens of glowing fractures before the machine exploded, shrapnel flying a short distance before disintegrating entirely.

"I...can't even be surprised anymore," his Ghost quipped. "As you've probably figured out, that was decidedly not your grenade."

His Guardian, by contrast, was nonplussed. "What was it?"

As poor as he was at discerning reactions, the smug reply from the diminutive machine was nearly impossible to miss. "Remember when I said that you had the potential to wield the Traveller's Light as a weapon?"

"...Yes."

"That was your weapon. Which you should have been able to use yet, but as I said, I don't think I can be surprised at you anymore." It "blinked" at him, its movements somehow conveying being pleased with itself.

A final explosion went off beyond a distant wall, as if to emphasise the Ghost's point. "See, I knew I made the right choice in making you my Guardian!"

It was bad enough that even more Fallen descended from another skiff – the Baron must have called for backup – but now the air itself crackled with the multiple shots from their wire rifles. The constant fire kept Asseylum pinned down; she could barely survive a single shot, as one of them had sent her reeling painfully before the regenerative armour began healing her. To make matters worse, the Vandals were firing too close together to so much as return fire. The hostile aliens seemed to know their weaponry well enough to time their shots to eliminate any possible window of opportunity for her to do much of anything. If she hoped to so much as return fire, she would need both a lapse in their timing – "human" error – and be able to act quickly enough to take advantage of it.

Her predicament didn't escape the notice of her saviour.

"They just couldn't co-operate like a good little bug-people, could they?" the woman in heavy armour quipped as the elaborate rocket launcher disappeared suddenly, replaced with what appeared to be a shotgun with elegant etching on the barrel. Why this warrior seemed to favour such elaborately-decorated weaponry, the blonde couldn't discern.

"..Or not so little," the mysterious woman added with a shrug, a tilting her head towards the giant Baron not far away from their position. "But I'll tell you what. I'll go distract them, and when you get that opening, keep them off me while I go play with their boss."

It was probably the best plan available, but there was one problem nagging at the new Guardian.

"Wait, how are you going to…" Asseylum began, but the other was already in motion, the dust around her violently kicked up as a blast of air propelled her high into the air from her perch above and toward the Fallen frantically firing at their rapidly approaching opponent. Either the strange elder Guardian knew what she was doing, or else she had an extraordinary amount of luck on her side...and her first action suggested outright insanity.

The elaborate shotgun had disappeared – TransMat most likely, as her Ghost had explained – but it didn't appear that she had replaced it with something else. Instead, her right arm cocked back as she seemed to hover in mid-air long enough for an enthusiastic yell.

"Titan...SMASH!"

Whether or not the enthusiastic bellow served a purpose, the tall woman rapidly dropped to the ground and punched down with her fist. What should have caused serious injury instead turned into a shockwave which instantly vapourised the unfortunate Fallen below and nearby, and Asseylum couldn't shake the feeling that she was actually enjoying herself. What was even more unbelievable was that while she might have some demon of luck at her side, the cheerful woman most definitely possessed considerable skill.

Even as the electrical field dissipated, the elder Guardian was already in motion, her shotgun reappearing only seconds before blasting a Dreg which had practically launched himself at her backwards several feet. Wheeling with much more grace and speed than her armour suggested she was capable of, she shot down one of their drones – a Shank – into a rain of pieces even while she backhanded another Dreg attempting to close the distance, slashing at her with his long knife. Ether released from the armour of the same Dreg after taking shotgun fire directly to the head, as it did likewise for the Vandal attempting to slash at her with twin swords from behind, only to be stopped when the Guardian twirled her shotgun on its trigger, bracing the barrel and firing back at him over her shoulder. Not even a second later, her free arm snapped out to punch another hard enough for his body to disintegrate...or perhaps that was a particular power of hers not entirely unlike those the flaxen-haired Warlock now wielded.

With as much havoc and damage as she was causing, the heavily-armoured Guardian was pulling the undivided, panicked attention of the Fallen. The Sunsinger finally moved to made ample use of the successful distraction, sniping at the Vandals which had been plaguing her only moments before with short bursts of her auto rifle. Not for long, however; she could feel the warmth of her Light flooding and invigorating her limbs, the same feeling she'd had when she was able to form an explosive grenade from it. But she needed a clear line of sight, not trusting her strange new skills to land a blind throw from her cover. She would have to risk it...which was really only fair, what with her impromptu teammate already out in the middle of the mess shooting and punching at everything, even if she did seem to be enjoying it.

Asseylum wasn't entirely certain she enjoyed that thought, but given that this was a war, it was entirely likely that this was her way of coping. It was either that, or she was mentally unstable. Yet, whatever the reason, she didn't have time to waste on mulling it over, not when she had the window of opportunity she needed.

The jade-eyed Guardian hoisted herself up on top of the outcropping she had been crouching behind, well-aware her position made her an easy target. Hopefully, she would have a clear throw before hunkering down behind her cover. Things didn't go as expected, and not in a way she could have foreseen.

Asseylum could feel the intense heat blossoming from her back even as she called forth a grenade...and then another, and another. Fire rained down on the alien forces, and their attention turned back to her. Staying put was not a good idea.

Leaping down from her position, she ran towards the right, skirting the group while somehow still throwing more grenades. The air shimmered with heat, she could hear her companion's low whistle of appreciation. "Wow, are you really a KinderGuardian? Never seen a freshly-resurrected Sunsinger before. Thanks for the Radiance, by the way!"

Before she could even ask, the tall woman punched the ground again, causing a shockwave that sent the Baron staggering back and dropping the massive rifle, the shield failing under the assault. The neophyte Guardian felt she could pull off one last fiery grenade, pitching it at the towering form with all her strength. It landed, seeming to stick to the Fallen leader before incinerating him. The body crumbled to ash even as it fell, the wind kicking up to carry it away.

Resting the barrel of her shotgun on her shoulder, the armour-clad Guardian strode back to her, and Asseylum had no problems picturing a cocky grin behind the reflective visor. "That was a job well done. Nice work, newbie. Oh, and a belated welcome to the apocalypse post-party. My name's Alisande della Libra. You can just call me Ali. Or Great One. Or 'She Who Saves My Ass Regularly'. Any of them will do."

She could feel herself staring owlishly, trying to take all that in. Her stupefied silence must have lasted more than a few seconds, because Ali added, "That was a joke, by the way. It's okay you're allowed to laugh."

Before she could even respond – she was too baffled to laugh, really – her Ghost apparently decided to comment. "What's a Titan doing out here? I thought your order devoted themselves to protecting the City."

The Titan shrugged. "Some of us take a more...proactive approach. At least after Twilight Gap, anyway. I'd prefer not to be caught with our collective proverbial pants down again."

Her Ghost seemed subdued after that for some reason, but the name was unfamiliar. "Twilight Gap?" Asseylum ventured cautiously.

This time, Asseylum couldn't read Ali's body language as she regarded the younger Guardian. "It's too long a story to get into out here, we're liable to be shot at in the middle of it. Let's head to the City…you have a ship?"

The Ghost seemed almost smug. "Funny you should ask…"

With the danger passed, the Hunter had the time to stare hard at the newbie she had helped out of his predicament. She had to admit that she had seen a lot of amazing things in her time, and thought she was at the point where very little was capable of surprising her. Such times when she was genuinely surprised were was one of those times.

"Would you look at that? He shouldn't be able to do that." Zaytsev twisted from side to side as he hovered, a suggestion of a head-shake before turning back to her with a humanlike "blink" of his singular eye. "Should he be able to do that?"

Diya shook her head. "The hell if I know," she admitted, only half-paying attention to her Ghost. He was right, though. A Stormcaller already, and able to pull off a Landfall? Not that she really knew much about the supposed rivals of the Hunters, but didn't harnessing electrical currents the way they did require intense study and meditating in old transformers – to become "ne with the Arc", as Ikora Rey had so poetically put it – or something equally crazy?

Then again, there was plenty of crazy to go around for the ones once called the Risen.

"Looks like our work here is done," she commented, resting the butt of her rifle on the beam she perched on with a deep sigh, her left hand grasping the barrel and her right planted on her hip. This patrol had been a lot more trouble than she had expected. "I should report in..."

The Hunter drew a sharp breath when the distant figure of the fledgeling Warlock looked up, his gaze hidden behind the visor of his helmet. Could he actually see her all the way up on her perch?

Apparently. "Oh, look," Zaytsev chirped dryly. "He noticed us. There's a sharp kid. Should we go down and congratulate him on surviving? With our help, of course."

Well, shit. "Yeah," she reluctantly agreed. She'd hate to see all that hard work go to waste if something else decided to show up after they'd both probably exhausted all their ammo, and the Warlock's Vanguard representative was going to be seriously cheesed off if she left a Stormcaller on his own. "I almost wish it'd been as boring as always."

"I seem to recall that there's an ancient curse: 'May you live in interesting times.'"

Diya lightly slapped her Ghost from behind and returning her rifle to its magnetic hold at her back. "I've been living in interesting times in both lives, so stuff it."

She wasn't nearly as irritated as she made herself out to be, because now came her favourite part of the job.

The Bladedancer lightly jumped off the tower, for all the world simply admiring the view even as the ground came up at her at a dizzying speed, cape flying out behind her like a single wing. But looking down at the Earth while being suspended high above never got old, and she'd be damned if she let any opportunity to indulge herself like this pass by.

It was only at the very last moment that she activated the air propulsion system in her boots, a short gust which cushioned her with a smaller jump before landing nimbly on the wreckage-strewn ground.

"You probably gave that poor KinderGuardian a heart attack with that stunt," Zaytsev quipped.

"...Maybe," she drawled, her catlike grin concealed by her helmet's visor. And if that didn't, how she could even see out of what looked like a thick triangle of metal with three screws holding it down just might. "I'm not worried. He'll see plenty of insanity soon enough."

One such insanity might have been the Sparrow that her Ghost produced from the ether. TransMat is such a convenient little trick, Diya mused as she lithely hopped into the seat of the hoverbike before hitting the pedal accelerator and deftly navigating the wreckage across the now-quiet battlefield. Even with its speed, she had half-expected the KinderGuardian to have been long gone; the passageway that the corrupted Fallen captain had been blocking now open. She was sure now that he was trying to get through there and had gotten in over his head. But what was so important down there that he'd risk a permanent death trying to get to it?

Time to find out.

The neophyte Warlock had not moved very far; just inside the receiving bay of the warehouse the late Captain had been looming just outside of. Good; so he had enough sense to move out the the open area. So far, his single idiocy seemed to have been taking on that altered Captain on his own. As annoying as babysitting duty could be, the Bladedancer admitted to herself that she had dealt with worse. She couldn't count how many times she had needed to metaphorically and literally yank a KinderGuardian back by the collar to halt an ill-considered charge forward. By contrast, this one appeared to have some actual tactical skill.

The Sparrow came to an effortless gliding stop alongside the Warlock before Diya killed the engines and dismounted, the hoverbike disappearing when Zaytsev used the TransMat to stow it away. Now that she was up close to get a better look at him, she was surprised to find that while he was taller than she was, he was relatively short by most standards, with a lithe build that would have been far more suited to a Hunter such as herself. Most Warlocks she knew tended towards the gaunt end of physically fit as well as tall, if only to keep the typical Warlock mystique bullshit. She kept such observations to herself, though.

Before she so much as had the chance to ask what had possessed him to think taking on a Captain of that size and power had been a great idea, he rendered the sort of bow she had not seen in hundreds of years. Not only was it unnerving, but it called up memories she tried to forget.

"Thank you for helping...well, rescuing, to be honest," he said before Diya could get a word out. There was also something familiar about his voice, which didn't help her peace of mind, and his gratitude was so profuse that something felt off about it.

As a result, her reply was a little sharper than she had intended. "Just doing my job, though it's not every day that a Guardian is dumb enough to try taking on a Fallen Captain of that size on his own," punctuating her lecture with her left hand planted on her hip. "What in the Traveller's name is so important in here that you'd risk Light and life to get it?"

His body language suggested that he was a little taken aback at her reply, but that he realised she had a point. She almost regretted chewing him out immediately, so to soften the blow she sighed and relaxed her stance a fraction as he explained himself...or rather, his Ghost interjected.

"I detected a salvageable ship down here. Without it, we won't be able to get to the City."

Maybe I was a little too hard on the newbie, Diya considered. Drawing her hand cannon from its holster on her belt, she left out a small sigh. "To be fair, that's as good a reason as any," she admitted. "Well then, let's get you to that ship."

The Hunter started off for the only unblocked corridor, but nearly tripped on a pothole in reaction to the Warlock's next words.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble," he commented with a genuine note of remorse.

Diya could feel a flush of embarrassment that she hadn't felt for years, coughing slightly to cover up how that had thrown her off and her uncharacteristic clumsiness. "Like I said, it's my job," she replied with a dismissive wave of her free hand as she continued on without a backward glance.

Once again she found herself grateful that she was not dealing with an idiot this time; the Warlock was observant enough to begin following her rather than asking stupid questions about where she was going. With only one way out of the receiving bay, it was rather obvious which way they needed to go, and his Ghost would alert them to the proper direction if she ended up going the wrong way.

But once they entered the darkened corridor, the Hunter was certain there would be little need for direction from the AI. Her finely-honed scouting instincts warned her of the danger ahead even before red flared to life on her helmet's LIDAR. She had seen too much action over too many years than to think they weren't going to get to that ship without a fight.

Checking the ammo on her hand cannon, Diya twirled it with a dramatic flourish, almost taunting the milling enemies ahead. "Time to earn some Glimmer and save humanity."

"Just another day at the office?" Zaytsev replied, clearly in good humour.

"As always, това́рищ."

Author's note: The Smiths – "Some Girls are Bigger than Others"

Perfect for Big Damn Hero Guardians who are louder than bombs.

So...I got a little sidetracked by Rise of Iron. Hopefully this chapter was worth having to wait.

Translation notes: това́рищ- friend, comrade