Chapter 26: Heart...

Yet again, Fireteam Shachal and company neared their red destination, with every passing second feeling counted as if hours. Mars had been in sight for some time, but the previous visit still had a profound weight on the hearts of the team. Death's tempted, cold fingers had brushed their faces, and here the planet rested before them like a token of remembrance, never failing to remind the team how close they came to meeting a gruesome demise.

Lukos, with his back on the ice-cold steel of the cockpit's rear wall, stared out into the black of space and reflected on the day his composure wavered openly. Initially, he felt ashamed and pathetic for divulging his past and wearing his emotions on his sleeve, but as he looked further back, he began to remember the way he used to be and how the drastic changes he had gone through since meeting his team impacted him. It had become normal for him to address Shachal as "his team". Would he still have been the same person he was even a few months ago, he would have chastised himself for showing weakness and especially for doing so in hostile territory. But as he idly stood and pondered the relevant effects of recently passed events, he couldn't bring himself to deny the truth: This was where he belonged. No. This is where he longed to be. He found it surprising that at one time, at all costs, he would have remained independent and bitter toward anyone and everyone affiliated with the Last City. Even if it meant roaming the worlds of the system alone until a looming, forlorn death, whether by unlikely natural causes or a promised bullet, came to introduce him to his exposed grave.

With a faint clattering and scraping from within the armory calling into his ear, a curious Lukos turned and left the cockpit to see Kaeneth comfortably sitting on the port side chair of the workbench with this boots propped up on an ammunition crate. With an experienced whetstone in hand, he sharpened one of his throwing knives with patience and care, the other identical weapons already sharpened resting on the table before him.

"What were ya' doing in there, boy?" the Scot asked Lukos without averting his eyes from his task.

"Playing with the flight systems," he said with a sarcastic expression on his face. "What else would I be doing?"

Kaeneth grinned, "Petros would have a fit if ya' ever told him that."

"Good thing he's too occupied with monitoring every cell of the ship's software to notice what's going on right under his nose."

A quiet pause ensued afterward and Kaeneth lifted a low eye to study the unusually unspoken Hunter, "I don't believe I've ever told ya' about ma' last ride ta' Mars as a member o' Shachal, have I?"

Lukos, looking at nothing apparent, shook his head.

"I'd say it was about as peaceful as it is now. Seemed ta' take long as hell ta' get ta' the drop zone. I remember Petros was in the cockpit as usual. I didn't want ta' bother piloting the ship, so the three o' us sat in the back. It was quiet. We knew what kind o' risk we were taking that day. Little discussion was made on it, until Tharsos' father said it would be his last mission before retirement. Least I could say now is I hardly believed it then. Knowing him for so long, I never would have expected him ta' stop being a Guardian."

"This was the same mission he died in?" Lukos asked.

"Aye," Kaeneth replied softly. "He said he didn't want his boys ta' be involved with the war. They were getting ta' that age where their curiosities were blooming, and he didn't want that, so he decided ta' leave it all behind ta' step on a new battlefield and keep them away from the frontlines he feared would tempt them."

Lukos glanced at him, "I'm guessing that was never communicated. Both of them ended up becoming Guardians anyway."

"True. He never had the chance. And at the time, I didn't know what I know now. It's one o' ma' biggest regrets. We both know Kauson wasn't the most emotionally inclined ta' comfort those kids. And because I didn't do what a man's friend should have, it cost Thumos one o' his sons." The younger of the Hunters listened without speaking and Kaeneth proceeded solemnly, "It wasn't until I suffered that loss o' ma' own that I realized ma' mistake in not keeping an eye on Tharsos and Thureos."

It was at this point, Lukos looked up at Kaeneth, who somberly stared through the unmoving knife in his hand, "Ma' boy, Desmos, did what Thumos never wanted his sons ta' do. I wish I had known the fear he felt if his children followed in his footsteps. If I did, ma' son would probably be living comfortably in the City right about now."

"You had a son? Why haven't you ever mentioned him?"

"We all have those memories too hard ta' revisit. Those nightmares that torment us too much ta' talk about openly. I'm sure ya' have your own. One o' the fears a parent dreads most is seeing your child laid ta' rest before ya', and I've long outlived ma' son." The Scot blinked and coughed, forcing the sadness back. "Ma' wife left me. Ma' little Karah was left without a father and a big brother for many years. She probably suffered most, being alone. Her mother was consumed with grief. So much, her health eventually failed and she slowly died. Aneya passed about two years ago. She wouldn't allow me visitation."

"Why not?"

"She hated me. As much as it hurts ta' accept it, she had good reason. I romanticized being a Guardian. Fuelled Desmos' aspirations. He wanted ta' be a soldier just like his old man. He died just short o' one year after becoming one."

Lukos couldn't wholly relate to Kaeneth's loss, but at the very least, understood the pain of losing someone close. Just before he said anything, the thought of him extending any condolences to others was a foreign concept he never anticipated experiencing, "I'm sorry, Kaeneth."

The Scot could only manage a few abrupt nods as he kept his eyes low on his throwing knife, "Ya' remind me o' him. Ma' son. I guess that's why I took a liking ta' ya'. The only thing bigger than his mouth were his balls. He was fearless. Too fearless for his own good. But he was a good man. A better one than his father was." Kaeneth then knocked on the table to get his listener's attention. "Ya're a good man too, Lukos. Ya' might have yet ta' realize it, but one day ya' will understand. We all see it. A man carrying his fair share o' sins would know."

Aside from Tharsos, it had been ages since someone confided such things in Lukos. It felt even longer since someone he could consider a father expressed his confidence in him. Though he didn't share his senior's opinion, the words were no less welcome and cherished. Lukos, unable to find an appropriate response, merely sat in silence with no eye contact made for an extensive amount of time. The overwhelming evidence of influences that had impacted his change of character continued to amass within his mind, and the denial of such things he came to cling to became distant and even unwanted.

"Just promise me ya' will remember this: A soldier is a haven. Always will be. Always must be. And his duty ta' those behind him is ta' leave a legacy o' peace and security. Not an inheritance o' bloodshed."

Although Lukos took his words to heart, still he found no reply. After a short-lived delay, he joined his friend and withdrew one of his karambits, beginning to sharpen it as well with his own tool. No further conversation was exchanged as the two Hunters prepared their blades for the impending dive into the heart of Mars' Buried City.

"ETA, five minutes," Petros' voice reverberated throughout the inner hull of the Volframio with the utmost clarity imaginable. "Entering atmosphere in sixty seconds."

Everyone had already been strapped securely in their seats for the better part of the last half hour. It was then, Lukos and Kaeneth had returned from the armory, fully geared and prepared for drop off. They clutched their sniper rifles at their sides as the vessel fired through the Mars atmosphere, shaking us vehemently. After the turbulence passed, both Shachal and Thuella unshackled and unlocked the restraints, and for those of us who had yet to equip ourselves for the mission, we entered the armory. Thuella, familiar with the ship and almost as if at home, circled around the room's walls and removed their weapons from their mounts. Stopping at my weapon locker, I examined a new box sitting at the base. As I looked down at it, Selana approached me full of hopeful expectations.

"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked, obviously trying to hide her excitement.

"What is it?"

"Well, if you open it, you'll find out," Selana laughed.

I reached down and pulled it out from the lower shelf and set it on the table. Selana was joined by the curious Kion and his brother, Brecho, and watched me remove the secure shell encasing the metallic frame. Upon revealing the contents, I withdrew one of several weighty grenades, bearing elaborate multi-faced edges and a brilliant metallic blue exterior.

Kion gasped at the sight in envy, his eyes gleaming with wonder, and an impressed Brecho whistled, "Osiris Shockwave grenades. Damn fine ordnance you have there."

I faced my company to see Selana awaiting my reaction. After taking another look at the grenade, I tossed it up in the air, gauging the mass and gripping the contoured shell. I studied it with satisfaction before answering Selana, "Thank you. I have no idea what they do, but I like the weight and compact design."

Overjoyed, she smiled, "You're welcome. Use them well. They're yours to use as you see fit." She hurriedly turned to arm herself and Brecho faced me.

"She must like you," he said with a grin. "Those aren't cheap."

"I hope she doesn't make a habit out of it," I replied, keeping the light air alive. "I don't have the finances to repay her with her own gift every time she buys me a set of these."

Selana pivoted on her heel to scold me with a poorly hidden smile beginning to form on her lips, "The designer of those gets to give them as she pleases. Don't you dare think of it as something that has to be repaid. Shame on you for thinking of a present that way."

"You made these?" Kion asked with amazement, picking one of the items up. "Never would have figured that."

I watched her expression brighten even more as she stepped out of the armory with the rest of us. As we approached the rear hatch, I felt the descending Volframio start to level off and decelerate. A series of clacks and switches sounded as our two teams inserted magazines, pulled charging handles, flicked safeties, and primed our weapons for action. With four of Selana's gifted grenades on my belt I awaited howling winds of reddish-orange dust to greet us again with a red sea of rippling sand under our feet.

The Martian sky opened its arms out to us and the soft bed of sediment swayed and parted at our feet colliding with it. The deepest impressions nearly buried Sideros' thick boots as his heavy frame landed on the ground, and generous plumes of sand were carried away into the gusts of wind broken only by our presence.

Sideros stepped forward, glaring into the furthest visible reaches of the Buried City in front of us before speaking into the cry of the gales sweeping through unsheltered grounds, "As before, scan for any powerful energy signatures, Petros."

"Affirmative, Kauson." The Volframio blasted out of the vicinity, becoming an indistinguishable speck in the warm-colored sky above. As the upheaval of dust awoken by the ship's departure slowly diminished like a massive veil in the wind, we set out to plunge into the center of the city, an impregnable site of historical failure and disgrace that hadn't been touched by Guardians since the Battle of the Buried City over fifteen years ago.

"Sweep the intersection," Sideros ordered as quietly as his stern voice could manage.

We had recycled the same careful drive through the city, every junction cleared one at a time, checking every side street that ran perpendicular to our somewhat directionless approach. Selana and I, again, took the left flank. Brecho and his son, Chalzao, took the right. Cautiously looking around the corners and examining the lonely, windswept roads covered in dunes to our sides, we cleared the pass with an inaudible signal. As we and the right flank guards kept wary guns up and at the ready, the rest of our group quickly passed through the center of the street, heading west, their footfalls muffled and padded by the absorbent coat of sediment.

After reaching the opposite side of the intersection, our point team halted and covered our pass. As soon as we made a silent approach, Sideros signaled us to conceal ourselves in a nearby building. Upon our entrance to an office room with many leveled walls, we received a transmission from Petros.

"I'm picking up a strong energy signature, Guardians. It appears to be approximately four kilometers northwest of your position, three hundred feet above ground in the central district's northern communications tower. Be advised. Scans suggest there is exceedingly large opposition on the eastern and western borders of the complex's grounds. Approach carefully."

"Copy that," Sideros responded. "Any mechanical defenses?"

"If there are, they are insulated by detection-preventative materials."

"Understood. Keep your distance," Sideros said, closing the comm link and looking at us. "According to his report, our advance would yield higher success if made from the southern edge. We will continue west until we reach a satisfactory path taking us to the border of the central district."

Each of us acknowledged his strategy with affirmative gestures and made our way for the exit. With a much swifter pace, we took our westward leave in unison and without conversation. As I moved with my companions, I thought about the likelihood of discovering the new storage location of the prismatic device we had encountered during our last visit to Mars. Securing it, however, was the questionable matter under scrutiny. In the Cabal's home base, we couldn't accurately say how difficult even getting to the tower would be. Upon our arrival at another intersection, I took a habitual and generous look to the streets in passing. I caught a glimpse of Selana running sluggishly next to me. She seemed fatigued and struggled to keep up with us. As concerned as I was, I had no choice but to save it for later. Her personality hadn't come across any differently, but on a few occasions over the past few days, I could discern she wasn't feeling well. I could only hope it was a minor incidence and would pass soon.

I turned back around and lowered my pace slightly, serving as a mediating presence between Selana and the rest of Shachal and Thuella.

Over the course of the following minutes, I came to appreciate our alacrity. It hadn't taken very long before I was looking down northern, perpendicular roads at the peaks of three towers standing tall above buildings between them and us. After only a few more city blocks put behind us, Sideros hung right and soon, the image of the towers remained within my peripheral. It was at this point all of us slowed to allow prudent awareness during our final approach.

"Stay alert. More than likely, Cabal scouts are posted beyond the perimeter of our objective. They'll be watching," Brecho grunted, observing our surroundings.

"And they'll tell their friends about us before attacking alone," Kaeneth added. "We won't have much time ta' eliminate the compromise."

"Kion, can you manage generating the sensor?" Brecho asked.

"I can manage it anytime, but as usual, if I do, I won't be providing much offense for a while."

"Do it. We have you covered."

While the rest of us ran ahead, Brecho and Kion ceased for a few seconds. I looked over my shoulder to see Kion focus and envelop his body in a faint, glass-like coat of lavender void energy. After solidifying the layer of energy, the brothers sprinted for us and upon their rendezvous, I saw the layers of purple ripple on the surface of his armor. Kion appeared to be in a state of profound concentration as he followed next to us.

"Frequency's been accounted for," Kion murmured. "Keep doing what you're doing, guys. I'll keep you updated."

Entrusting what I gathered as a motion sensing field surrounding him, I withdrew my attention from the unique application of Warlock abilities and kept my own senses open to what capacities they were capable of.

The race was quiet. Alarmingly quiet considering how close we were getting to the edge of the central district's southern commercial quadrant. To me, and surely all of us, it felt like a guarantee there would be some kind of guard on the southern side of the complex. With the eastern and western faces entrenched by most of the Cabal strength, I knew the militaristic brutes wouldn't fail to assign some sort of precautions for the southern arc of their base's perimeter. They had to expect intruders would approach from the thinly guarded sides, and I expected them to know of our intrusion, should their eyes have caught sight of us. But there seemed to be no apparent sign of a scout's reaction or resulting report to the eastern or western forces.

"Sideros," I called through the still air. "This is too easy."

The Exo didn't respond as he glanced at me and subsequently observed the building tops. All of us eventually decelerated to a halt and listened. Brecho turned to Kion with a inquisitive look.

Initially focusing on his surroundings and the change in our motion's frequency, Kion then turned to his brother, "Aside from the wind, nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"This doesn't make sense," Lukos muttered. "There's not a chance they would leave this area completely defenseless."

"What's the range on your sensors?" Selana asked Kion.

He released a quick shrug, "Sixty, seventy foot radius, give or take."

"You think there's a chance we could have slipped the scouts by?" she then questioned to no one in particular.

"Not the Cabal. Not on their own turf," Brecho answered uneasily. "What do you intend to do, Sideros?"

He appeared to debate with himself as we awaited a response while keeping keen eyes on the surrounding weathered architecture. With the equivalent of a disgruntled exhale, Sideros spoke, "We proceed. Should our advance prove too hazardous, we will retreat and extract, but the objective is far too important to neglect again."

As I turned and stepped northbound, a faint rumble shook the sand and settled the red carpet under my feet. I watched the grains of dust shake and roll away from my boots. But the hardly perceived vibrations ceased and an open road yawned before us, the tower housing our objective looming in the distance.

I felt severely uneasy about getting any closer, but part of me agreed with Sideros. We had to take a chance at acquiring this geometric artifact, if at the least to remove it from our enemies' possession.

Within a vigilant quarter of an hour, we stood at what once stood as a fortified security wall that surrounded the complex's inner site.

"Anyone ever been this far in?" Lukos asked Kaeneth.

"No one alive," the Scot whispered. "Silence is key here."

He said it just loud enough so that it was impossible for us to have missed it. Before stepping over the razed brick and concrete piles of debris, I felt self-conscious about my breathing even, knowing the Cabal's sense of hearing was exceptional and deserving of fearful respect.

The northern tower, the communications facility apparently, stood between two somewhat shorter, commercial towers of identical appearance on its sides. A uniform space of around three hundred feet separated the two outer towers from the center one, and should lines have been drawn to each, the three constructs would have formed a broad isosceles triangle, the southern face being the widest side.

"Ready for this?" Lukos asked.

He only received a fleeting glance from me. As Kion expressed his odd enthusiasm and excitement, I felt uncertain about this operation, and the area we had stepped into felt like a harbor of doom and despair. I could only wonder how long it had been since this tarnished home of long extinct excellence was occupied by its creators. As we made our first few strides into the complex's grounds, my discomfort escalated. There was absolutely no sign of any Cabal presence. It became an arduous task putting one heavy and hesitant foot in front of the other, and every fiber of my being screamed for me to stop, and my loyalty to my comrades stifled its call. Until a boom echoed through the wind's phantasmal whispers.

Just a split second after, Kion reeled to his left as the round tore through his shoulder.

"Shit!" he screamed in pain, favoring it with a strong grip. Brecho yanked him down behind a pile of rubble with more concern for his life than his shoulder.

The rest of us dove for cover, and Selana spun around the debris to offer immediate treatment for Kion.

"Lukos! Kaeneth! You got eyes on him?" I yelled over the swift series of hostile sniper fire. My expectations for this mission were presumptuous. I knew that shot well. The Fallen were here too.

"Got him!" Kaeneth replied, snapping over the worn wall and firing a perfectly placed shot into the sniper perched on one of the distant and lower elevated office buildings between the northern and eastern towers. That particular source of gunfire ended, but another began from the northwest. The round cracked the wall near Kaeneth's head and was met with an even faster response from Lukos, who had a low base but quick aim and eliminated the hostile marksman.

A crash sounded in the near vicinity, and as I crept my sharp eyes over my cover, I watched as a familiar Cabal threat charged from a shattered and now crumbling building wall and charged for us like a savage hound, throwing his arms to the sides and sending obstacles flying to his sides with ease.

"Gladiator!" Brecho said with a booming tone. "On your feet!" As the gap between our foe and us dwindled rapidly, we threw ourselves up from the ground and dispersed. Narrowly dodging his hammer-like weapon's downward blow, like the first Gladiator I encountered had, the crazed beast swung upward without delay. Selana, having placed a well-timed foothold on the hammer's head, was launched into the air and fired a singular, but massive Nova Bomb, now more white than amethyst. The resulting crash was drowned out by a furious growl that was followed by a horizontal sweeping pivot emerging from the cloud of residual energy. I dove and tackled Chalzao, the nearest person whom of which would have been struck by the swing.

"Tharsos, with me!" Brecho yelled. I shot up to my feet as the others fired upon the center of the plume, peppering the occupant within. As Brecho and I charged after our foe, his body became visible, and as if knowing what the other was thinking, we sent the titanic Cabal's legs to the ground with our own flurries of Havoc-infused punches. Only having cried out in agony for a moment, the angered behemoth swatted at us with an ironclad gauntlet, which was, in turn, attacked by Sideros' momentous diagonal slash. A stream of blood spurted out from the Gladiator's wound, but it didn't slow his assault in the least. Backpedaling to avoid a series of offensive punches and downward slams, we realized the creature had abandoned his cumbersome weapon in favor of killing us quickly and in brutal fashion.

"We have to finish this!" Selana shouted, leaping down from the nearby building's rooftop, her voice full of anxiety. "Reinforcements are inbound!"

Behind us Titans, Lukos, Kaeneth, and Chalzao fired pinpoint precise rounds into the Gladiator's bulky chest, and although the blood seeped from the bullet holes like trickling fountains, the giant only grunted with dissatisfaction, as if we were an unworthy match and continued to hurl himself after us as he slowly bled out from the many injuries he had sustained.

"Again, Brecho!" He complied without looking at me and we raced after the colossus yet again, Sideros and Selana soared into the air, the Exo fuelling a powerful Nova Bomb and Selana glowing in a brilliant golden light, generating and providing Radiance for Sideros, Brecho, and me. Upon meeting the Gladiator in close quarters combat, Thuella's leader and I fired power punches into the sides of our foe's kneecaps, crushing the joints. With his opening made, Sideros propelled himself from his airborne position, taking hold of the Gladiator's face and dragging it to the ground. Upon contact, the Cabal's gigantic legs recoiled from the force and Sideros stood up from his second recent Gladiator extermination.

After the latest kill, a roar thundered from the east and a similar call answered from the west. It was then, I realized what the tactic was behind the Cabal forming up on the central district's flanks. As I listened to their march shake the earth, I realized a portion of them started to approach from ahead of us, but only after the other halves of either side swept up around behind us to close us in with a double pincer formation. Time was of the essence.

"We have to retreat now!" I demanded, pulling away from the huge corpse lying still before me.

A handful of my companions looked at me with confusion before some of the wiser and more experienced Guardians understood our imminent plight. Frantic and impatient, my comrades picked themselves up as we started to retrace our steps. As we stepped outside of the complex's border, the barks and bellows of Centurions and worse rang forth from the curving streets we put behind us. Sprinting wasn't fast enough. Glancing down once empty roads, I noticed Cabal ranks ran in parallel strings to our sides, a couple of city blocks between each line and our flight path.

"Along the walls!" Brecho said, having noticed the same thing as me. "Stay clear of the middle!" My companions and I reacted immediately and lined up against the western walls of the various buildings. We had only cleared one block when a series of Cabal cannon fire seared toward us in intersecting streams of firepower. Some blasts fell short into the sand-covered roads next to us, violent, isolated bursts resurrecting the dust and shooting it up into the air. Others barreled toward us and collided with the center of our path, the contact resulting in quickly passing waves of radiating heat escaping our backs.

Calls to war echoed throughout ancient halls of metal and stone, and the parallel lines began to march forward as the Cabal pursuing from behind started to fire on us. "Petros, we are under heavy fire and require immediate extraction!" Sideros growled into the comms.

"En route to your coordinates, Guardians," Petros told us promptly. "Hold on."

Just after his reply, three Fallen drop ships appeared from overhead and flew ahead to intercept us. Without descending to the ground, over a dozen Vandals and Raiders leapt from their vessels. As they started to jump from rooftop to rooftop with vicious intentions, Sideros led our Warlocks and Hunters to them, each with their own gliding bounds and athletic vaults to silence the forward opposition. The rest of us kept pace on the ground. Sideros, the most aggressive, sprinted off of a rooftop, firing a Nova Bomb into the center mass of an airborne Vandal coming directly toward him, sending his lifeless body into the wall below. Midflight, he tackled the accompanying Raiders and crushed their necks with a terrifyingly powerful mechanical grip. Selana, evasive and swift, eluded a pair of Vandals and sent a linear string of small Nova Bombs into their backs, landing on the Martian dunes and rejoining those of us below. As Lukos and Chalzao finished their kills with gruesome slashing and clubbing, they also leapt from the rooftops to rejoin us.

On the ground, approximately half of the deployed troops being Raiders, sprinted for us with a vigorous collision only seconds away from slowing our escape. I pulled one of the "Shockwave" grenades Selana gave me, primed the charge, and threw it just ahead of the blockade ahead. Only a second after contact, a radial pulse discharged from the shell, propelling the attackers backward with tremendous force. Simultaneously with the blast, a blue lightning burst emanated from the origin and sparked from one enemy to the next, rendering their bodies to mangled piles of electrically charred flesh and bone. Impressed with the performance in dire circumstances, I withdrew another and blindly threw it over my shoulder in hopes of it slowing our pursuers. With the blast, I heard a series of agonized cries and loud thuds on old concrete walls grow quieter as we sprinted away.

Fortunately for us, the Fallen ceased to provide any further resistance ahead of us, and managing to outrun the Cabal pursuit, I began to feel like our escape was succeeding, and when the Volframio soared down from the sky and hovered over a building, we raced up the massive rubble-formed stairway that was once its roof and outer walls. Not one of us failed to dive into the secure hold of the ship and pivot at the opening to fire upon our nearest assailants as Petros cleared us from their weapons' effective ranges.

Within the safety of the vessel, we collected ourselves and took in our fill of deep breaths. As I braced myself near the edge of the hatch and observed the distancing force below, I grasped the scope of their strength. I hadn't seen an army so equipped or massive. I sighed, mostly out of relief rather than exhaustion, thinking about how taking this operation with our current strength was foolish. Recalling the stories of the Battle of the Buried City, it would require an army of Guardians to have a chance at reaching the center of it.

"Wait, wait!" Lukos exclaimed in desperation from behind me. "Go back, Petros!"

Bewildered, I analyzed the Hunter's actions, until I took a good look at the occupants of the passenger hold. We were missing a Guardian. My heart rate shot up, and my blood pulsed as I shuddered, scanning the hold, hoping the missing person would be revealed. But as Lukos' pleas continued, I felt my hopes die in a reality I couldn't bring myself to willingly accept.

Petros spun the Volframio around and scoured the maze of ancient, identical roads, searching for the missing Guardian. The armies of Cabal and Fallen dispersed and in a matter of a few minutes of failed searching and transmitting, a siren blared loudly from the communications tower we had abandoned. Our Ghost turned the ship around and aimed for a somewhat taller building standing out and away from the central district's further towers. As he leveled the vessel off above the flat surface of the roof, we all jumped off of the hatch and raced for its edge to study the clearing that occupied the centermost region of the ruined central district. For those of us without scoped rifles, we observed with our visors' maximum magnification. There, an array of Cabal and Fallen soldiers stood awaiting a word. In a semicircle, some Gladiators, four Praetorians, and what appeared to be a handful of the Cabal's leadership, being the Legate and the Imperator, stood surrounded by Legionnaires and a handful of Centurions glaring at our comrade like mad beasts, itching impatiently to deal death.

Lukos crouched against the meager wall that separated us from the edge of the building's vertical and peered at the sight through his sniper rifle's scope.

Before an army of raging behemoths, Kaeneth sat motionless on his knees, his face bloody, battered, and broken facing our direction. He trembled as he tried to use his weakened abdomen to keep his body off of the ground. Near him, the Legate took his loaner sniper rifle from a Centurion and destroyed it with ease, tossing the useless weapon to the ground. There also lied his dual pistols, smashed and in shambles.

From what was initially discernible, the Legate started to bark and boast with prideful gestures, circling the Hunter and looking down at him with contempt.

"Kaeneth!" Lukos shouted into the comm channel. "We're coming to get you!"

I glanced over at the still Sideros who was silently watching the bleak spectacle.

A weak voice broke through our helmets' speakers, "No. All o' ya'... are going home."

Standing just behind Lukos, I heard his voice quake and quiver as a Cabal soldier kicked Kaeneth in the side for speaking. We listened to him cough, the sound of blood spattering on his microphone. From behind broken ribs, we heard every one of his struggling gasps for air. Through his laborious wheezing he made his farewell, "I'm proud o' every one o' ya'. It was an honor... ta' have served with soldiers like yourselves. Lukos... I'm sorry, son." Without being noticed by his captors, we witnessed him inconspicuously withdraw one of his concealed throwing knives and place it between his forearm and thigh. "Fuck all o' ya' ugly sons o' bitches!" he shouted to the Cabal and Fallen with his head held high. Infuriated, the Legate marched toward him with a vengeance and picked the Hunter up from the ground, his limp legs dangling in midair.

"This... is how I want ta' go. Kauson, old friend... ya' take care o' them."

And with a lightning quick thrust, Kaeneth shoved his knife into the Legate's eye and slammed his palm into the pommel, driving the blade into the gargantuan Cabal's brain. They both fell at the same time. Both just as heavy, only Kaeneth sluggishly picked himself from the ground to meet a charging group of Legionnaires. We could do nothing but continue to watch our friend's final stand. Selana whimpered and turned her eyes away from the display of despair and buried her face into my shoulder. Sideros' gaze was unwavering, but as silent as ever. Lukos screamed into the comm as Kaeneth pulled the lodged knife from the Legate's eye and fought the surrounding Legionnaires ferociously, every sound still coming through the open channel he failed to close. He wounded three Cabal and felled another two before an unexpected figure emerged from the chaos. With a stealthy approach, our ears and hearts were pierced with both sorrow and rage as two glowing blades plunged through Kaeneth's torso. His pained groans and gasps for air killed every failing measure of composure we had, and tears birthed from the sight of the Admiral holding Kaeneth's dying body up in the air broke free, streaming down our faces as swiftly as his defiant stand had ended.

Through his comm link, we listened to the Fallen giant send us a foreboding message in his own dialect with a spiteful snarl, his words broken up by the final breaths of our teammate. After the Admiral found himself content, he kicked Kaeneth in the back, sending his motionless body to the ground, and turned away from the site of his latest kill, disappearing into the crowd of Cabal and Fallen soldiers cheering with malice and triumph.

As Shachal and Thuella stood staring in disbelief, Lukos roared, his voice cracking from cries of sadness, and began firing into the howling crowd. Fearing our position would be revealed, I started to stop Lukos, but before I could, a firm hand fell on my open shoulder.

Sideros looked at me quietly, the flames that were his eyes now like dying embers in the dark. I understood his implication, and waited as Lukos fired aimless shots into our enemies, in tears as he did so. Through the small pauses between his trigger pulls, I listened to Kaeneth's fading breaths through the communications channel. Only seconds after Lukos loosed his fury upon the aliens in the distance, they determined the source and charged for our position with haunting war cries of bloodlust filling every one of our ears. Under their stampede, Kaeneth breathed his last as scores of Rhinos and Fallen trampled over his body. Aside from Lukos, Sideros, and myself, none of those present could keep their eyes on the unceremonious and tragic end of our friend, Kaeneth Atos.

My gaze was lost within the swarm of our enemies when Sideros' heavy hand slid off of my shoulder, signifying it was time for us to leave. I hesitated and stared down at the desperate Hunter who was pulling the trigger endlessly on an empty magazine. It pained me to pull my grief-stricken teammate away from the edge of his vengeful perch. I clenched tightly and dragged him away as he struggled against our leave, yelling indistinctly into the lonely, low howls of the Martian sky. Mourning every step we took away from our fallen comrade, all of us stepped into the empty Volframio that departed from Mars as if saddened as well.

None of us succeeded in holding our grief at bay, and during our return we replayed the memory that had been imbedded into our minds, every witnessed sight and sound as clear as they were when it happened. Lukos lied against the rearmost starboard chair, speaking with him an impossibility. But none of us could muster a single spoken thought through the somber droning hymn of the Volframio's thrusters. Accepting the fact that Kaeneth was gone proved far too difficult for us as we stared into spaces, wishing he was there. The aching wounds within all of us ran deeper and deeper as we returned home, heartbroken and wandering in thought. To a beloved friend's grave without his body to lay to rest.

Author's Note: I'm sorry, guys. I didn't like it either. But the story must be told.