The dark that had followed the pain melted away into light again, to sensation of body. Min could feel the ground pressed against her left side, feel the way her limbs were splayed. They were trembling uncontrollably. Through broken facets of what looked like glass, she could see her Ghost hovering, a beam of white light pouring down but somehow not blinding her.

"It's all right," he said as he came into focus. "I have you. You're all right."

The 'glass', which she now realized was the front faceplate of her helmet, seemed to flow together back into a solid sheet as the light refocused from her to it. In mere moments it was whole once again. Her arms and legs had stopped shaking but she felt weighted down, weary. She tried to focus.

That macabre rifle, pointed at her face. The implacable helmet behind it, swirling with miasma. That single, cold, amused word- Bye.

It had happened. She'd been shot by that rifle, right in the face. It had broken her faceplate and killed her, probably instantly.

She'd died, and as promised, her Ghost had brought her back.

Trying to refocus, she shifted and started to push herself up, one hand groping unconsciously for the pistol which still had to be nearby. Her fingers found it just as she realized the veteran Guardian was still there, just to her left. Propping herself up and turning her head, Min saw both Ian and Rhonda, sprawled over the grass. Ian was clearly dead, his Ghost hovering close and mending him with a beam of light, just as Min's had done with her. He was further away than Rhonda, and appeared to have tried to make a run for it.

Rhonda was just a few feet away, moving now as her Ghost finished its' work mending her. The veteran Guardian was standing over Rhonda, pointing her weapon at the disoriented woman's head.

"Welcome back," the Guardian said, and shot Rhonda all but point-blank right in the face again.

Minerva jolted at the sound, horrified at the sight of Rhonda's head coming apart. The rifle belched green flames as it fired, and the sound it made was like the roar of a living beast. Reflexively, Minerva let out a cry of surprise at the shot, and started to turn the pistol toward the veteran, pushing herself up more.

"You too," the veteran said, the rifle shifting its point almost casually back to Minerva. Min hadn't even gotten her pistol to bear when horrible green light was filling her eyes again, bringing with it that instant of unfathomable pain…then black.

You fret too much! A laugh like bells, golden hair. You think too much, you know. Always ready for a threat where none exists. It is perfectly…

The image, the voice, was there and gone again in a hazy blink as Minerva returned to life and consciousness for a second time. Someone was laughing- a low chuckle. Something else was rustling. Sobbing. There was sobbing…

She managed to lift her head, turning her face away from her Ghost before her face plate could be mended again. Perhaps half a dozen feet away, Rhonda was half-crawling, half-dragging herself over the grass. Blood was painting the ground, pouring in a small waterfall from the side of her neck and her shoulder. All Min could see was raw, wet meat and the gushing crimson. Thick and somehow clotted sobs were coming from her as she tried to pull herself along. Her Ghost was hovering nearby, bits spinning in clear alarm and agitation.

"What are you doing, you can't keep-" it said, but the veteran casually walking behind the dragging Rhonda ignored it. Rhonda pulled herself another foot, and that horrible, demonic rifle lifted to aim again.

With a surge, Minerva started to lunge to her feet. She either hadn't dropped the pistol this time or had not noticed when she picked it up again, but somehow it was in her hand. Just as she brought it up to bear again, the dreadful rifle shifted its aim from the wounded Rhonda. Min tried to check her motion and fall to the side but it was too late. A roar and the world wiped away again into oblivion.

There hasn't been a war in ages. People don't murder each other anymore. You're not making sense, you silly thing-

She was on her stomach this time when she woke, the cloying smell of thick blood filling her nose. She was panting heavily, her heart thundering so she felt it must tear out of her chest. A voice whispered near her ear, and she realized her Ghost was hovering close, speaking in a soft and tense voice.

"If you scoot back you might be able to get into cover," he said. "She's focused on Rhonda again. I don't know who this Guardian is but she seems quite mad-"

Min planted her hands and half pushed herself up, lifting her head. About a dozen feet now separated her from Rhonda and the veteran. Ian was down again too but had clearly been up at some point. He now sat slumped against one of the ruined walls as his Ghost healed him, instead of sprawled where he had been.

Rhonda was awake again, on her back. The waterfalling wound in her neck and shoulders had been healed, but a pair of fresh shots had been put into her. This demented veteran, for some reason, seemed determined to play with Rhonda whereas with Minerva she'd only put her down fast with clean shots to the head. This time, she'd shot the other woman in both her legs. As Rhonda weakly tried to move back from her, dragging the useless limbs, the veteran planted the beaked skull-muzzle of her rifle into one of the wounds and twisted it. Rhonda screamed.

"Stop it!" Rhonda's ghost said frantically. "This isn't how you're supposed to-"

Min's Ghost was right. Minerva could have slid backward fairly silently, ducked behind one of the ruined rock walls, and gotten away. It was the sensible thing to do. She didn't think she could stand that painful light, that impenetrable oblivion again.

Instead she curled her legs up, got her feet back under her, and darted forward like a sprinter exploding out of a starting gate.

Hearing her coming on the first footstep, the veteran swung her rifle around again but Minerva had learned that lesson. She didn't straighten up but kept low, barreling in and tackling the veteran around the knees even as that atrocity of a rifle fired again.

The bullet hit her in the lower back in mid-tackle, and she felt the pain again- pain beyond belief, a howling hurricane of it. Her legs went numb and useless, but her momentum and her weight were already doing the job. The veteran went down nearly on top of poor Rhonda. Hearing an unexpected snarl come from her own lips, Minerva reached up, hauling herself on top of the veteran in an attempt to pin her down, even as she groped out for the rifle. If she could just get it away from her…

Of course, it was useless. All the veteran had to do was brace herself and roll. Minerva flipped to the side and tumbled off of her, and the vet easily got back to her feet.

"You're the persistent one," the veteran said, walking toward where Min was trying to get up again despite her useless legs. The mouth of that rifle looked like a tunnel as it turned toward her face again…then jarred aside, as a bullet ripped through the veteran's shoulder, tearing her arm back and away. The rifle went spinning to the side, spitting out its puffs of sickly steam from its mouth as it went. The vet turned toward where the shot had come from, hand reaching for her belt where a small pistol was holstered, just in time for a second bullet to tear through her throat, punching through the reinforced armor joint and bringing a good deal of blood and bone along with it. With a limp, meaty thud the veteran hit the ground in her heavy armor, and lay still.

Min saw opportunity, and quickly hauled herself across the grass to where the rifle had fallen, even as the veteran's Ghost began to bathe it's guardian in light. Snatching hold of the weapon she shifted herself into a half-sit, gritting her teeth. Her lower back was on fire, a clenching white hot ball of molten lead, just above her hips. Below them, there was little to no sensation at all. In her hand, the rifle itself felt somehow…oily, even through her glove, and she could have sworn she felt hatred and malevolence coming from it, as if it were as repulsed at being held by her as she was at holding it.

Ian was moving now, looking around in weary confusion. Rhonda had pulled herself closer to him and was looking at Min with pale, sickened eyes as her Ghost passed its' beam over the wounds in her legs.

The only sound as Kalina stepped past Minerva was the faint rustle of her cloak over the dirt. She had her own rifle in hand. Though she had clearly been the one to shoot the veteran, she hurried past the limp form as if she expected it to reach out and grab her, getting to Rhonda and Ian's side.

"Get up," she said, her words hasty but not ungentle. "Back this way, back into the tower. Come on."

She helped them up, guiding them toward the hole in the wall they had come through before. Both were unsteady, but seemed more than eager to retreat to safety again. Min wasn't sure, but she thought Rhonda looked as if she were crying.

The other two out of the way, Kalina then hurried back toward Minerva. Her Ghost had come over the moment Minerva had gotten hold of the veteran's rifle. As his light passed over her pelvis and abdomen, she could feel the pain dying down and the sensation returning to her legs in a wave of electric tingles.

"Mini, can you walk?" Kalina asked, dropping down at Minerva's side. Seeing that Min was holding the veteran's rifle she reached out and gripped it, hastily pulling it out of Minerva's hands and flinging it aside as if it were a live viper ready to strike. "You don't want to touch that thing!"

As Kalina helped her get to her feet, Minerva saw that the veteran was now stirring, pushing herself up. Without bothering to even look for the pistol she'd lost again, Minerva pulled out the shotgun. Her arm tightened around Kalina and she twisted, pulling her out of any possible fire-path, ignoring the painful twinge in her still healing lower back as she did so. At the same time she lifted the shotgun toward the veteran and fired.

Nothing but a click. It seemed the shotgun had a safety, as well.

The veteran was up now, heading toward them fast. Minerva had no time to find the safety and fire again. Instead, she moved forward, trying to push Kalina to the side as she swung the shotgun high from the shoulder.

The veteran caught it in her hands, and with a quick twist disarmed Minerva. A fist drove in with the smooth, fast power of a bullet, and Minerva's three times repaired faceplate shattered. For a brief moment she saw what looked like small claws or blades on the knuckles of the veteran's gauntlets and then pain was slashing over her nose and cheek. She rocked backward.

The veteran suddenly growled in pain and whipped around, swiping a vicious backhand toward Kalina, who had driven a hunting knife deep into the waist of the armor. The hunter was much too fast, and was well out of reach despite the speed of the blow that came at her. She spun around, down and low, so quick it was almost a blur. The veteran had her legs swept out from under her and hit the ground again with enough force Minerva felt the tremble in the dirt. Stumbling backward, Min gaped at the speed with which the veteran got back up.

Then her comprehension was strained almost to the breaking point. The veteran seemed to give a small hop in the air, cocking a fist back, her entire focus downward as if she meant to break the very ground on which she stood. The fist seemed to be on fire- if flames could be pale blue. Kalina, who had been darting in again, suddenly reversed direction with an alarmed little 'eep!' but for all her speed it wasn't fast enough.

The veteran's fist hit the ground and it was indeed as if she broke the very earth. The ground bowed and cracked, and the air itself rippled out in a shockwave that struck Minerva even as her eyes were starting to comprehend it. It felt like being hit by a truck, and the next thing she knew she was sailing through the air. She struck one of the ruins rock walls and crashed bonelessly to the ground, nearly a hundred feet from where she had been standing. Aching and dazed she peered through a cloud of rock dust and soil, staggering to her feet.

Kalina had been thrown as well, in the opposite direction. She, too, was rising but only slowly, dazedly. Binky was hovering nearby, casting the hunter awash in light. There was blood on the hood of her cloak.

Min's own Ghost hurried near, but Minerva didn't have time for him or his healing. She tore the ruins of her helmet off and pitched it aside. Red seemed to be filling her head and she lifted a hand, brushing the little Ghost aside, shoving the aches and pains into the background as she broke into a run.

Where the veteran had hit the ground a small crater had formed. The vet was now striding out of this crater, toward Kalina. Only a few steps carried the vet to her evil rifle, which she swept up into her hand and ratcheted. Even from this far, that ratchet was audible- an almost purring, eager sound that spoke somehow of bloodlust.

Head down, teeth bared, Min could feel something swirling around her, something filling her up. Energy seemed to be pouring into her with a crackle like white lightning, and the red in her head was instantly replaced with pale blue.

Then a third figure was suddenly striding out of the clouds of smoke and dirt, stepping through the rock wall- a figure big enough to be a wall in his own right, a single horn looming above his helmet. His voice seemed to ring around the ruins, commanding even the very molecules of dust.

"That's ENOUGH."

Min stumbled to a halt, both the blue and the red light in her brain snuffing out in an instant. She staggered and nearly lost her balance, the light replaced by a wearying exhaustion that weighed every inch of her. The veteran straightened and lowered that menacing rifle, looking at Lord Shaxx as if they were old friends who were just happening to meet in a pleasant summer park. Beyond them, Kalina had regained her feet and was gingerly removing her helmet. Her face was caked with blood and sweat, but her wounds seemed well enough healed.

Minerva had no doubt as to why the Crucible Lord had put in an appearance. He'll put a stop to this, she thought triumphantly. He'll put a stop to this madwoman and her sadistic slaughter. He'll expose what she did in front of everyone, and serve her right!

Around them, the other sounds of combat had all died. Armed and armored figures were appearing from out of the ruins now, weapons casually in hand or swung over shoulders, silently gathering around in curiosity as to why the Crucible Lord had called a halt.

Minerva knew, and her glare toward the veteran was filled with that knowing.

To her shock, however, Shaxx barely glanced at the vet and instead seemed to fix his sights on Kalina, his voice stone and ice.

"You're done in the Crucible, Kalina. Go report to your Vanguard right now, and don't ever darken my doorstep again."