Running. That's what it was called, that thing he was doing with his legs. The word had escaped him for a moment. But he found it, in his memory. Well, maybe not memory, actually. Memories had sights, sounds, smells. Running didn't have any of that. It was just… there, in his head. Something he knew without knowing how. Seemed like everything in his head was like that, in fact.

Well, except for the last two minutes. Those had memories. He remembered waking up. Or at least, it felt like waking up. He remembered a stern voice. A female one, with an edge of synth and static, ordering him to get up. He remembered opening his eyes and shakily pulling himself out of the rusted-out form of an ancient car. He remembered blinking in the bright sunlight, his vision clearing to reveal the shape of a little white machine with a glowing blue eye, floating around above him.

He remembered it talking to him, despite not having a mouth, in that same stern voice. It… she..? said something about ghosts, and time, and falling territory. He just sort of stood there, blinking at her. She flew towards him and vanished in a flash of white light. Then she told him he needed to run, somehow. So he ran.

And that was that. The whole of his memory, the whole of his life. It felt shorter than it should have been. But he was too busy running to worry about that. He could feel the air pounding in and out of his lungs, almost in time with the pounding of his heart in his chest and his boots on the ground. He ran through dirt and dust, then jumped onto metal and rust, his feet clanging as he sprinted from car to car, moving towards the massive metal wall that eclipsed half the horizon.

He ducked into a broken down doorway in the wall, following the passages within at the direction of the voice in his head. She led him to an item of some sort, left tucked away in a dark corner behind some metal crates. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. A word came to him. Gun. Yes, that's what it was. A gun. With a barrel, a grip, a magazine, a trigger. He knew guns. And then he realized he knew what they were for. He looked more intently at, his grip becoming far more delicate. He was no longer sure he liked how natural the gun felt in his hands.

He pushed the thoughts aside, or rather, the voice in his head did, and kept moving. It was dark in here, even with the light that began to shine from his helmet. That was actually the first time he'd realized he was wearing a helmet, which he felt should be somewhat concerning. But his thoughts were once again redirected as a noise rang out from the dark in front of him. He froze, waiting. And then the thing burst out of the ceiling.

His first thought was spider. Lots of limbs, lots of eyes, crawling around. It was a reasonable reaction, he felt. But the thing was definitely not a spider. For one thing, spiders didn't tend to be larger than him, as far as he knew. For another, and arguably more important, thing, spiders didn't carry guns.

He dove to the ground right as a spray of glowing blue projectiles scorched the wall just behind where he'd been standing. He pulled himself behind a nearby pillar, taking in air and trying to steady his hands. He heard a series of clicks, hisses, and snarls as another volley of blue light struck against the pillar, spraying out burning heat. He clenched his grip on the gun in his hands, grit his teeth, and swung out from behind the pillar, trigger pulled.

Muzzle flash lit up the darkness as a burst of rapid-fire shots lit up the shadows and tore into the alien thing standing before him. It howled as the bullets ripped it apart, before falling to the ground, motionless. He walked over to it, shaking, and nudged it with a toe. It didn't react. And whatever it was, he didn't have a word for it inside his head. One thing he did have inside his head was a voice, and it was very pointedly urging him to keep moving. He kept moving.

As he went, more of the things showed themselves. They came out of the walls, the floor… wherever they damn well pleased, evidently. He shot them all down with his gun, his rifle. It became easier every time; yet another thing he'd have to worry about later. A number of them scored hits across his body, but he found the wounds soon closed, seemingly of their own volition. Eventually, he made it back out into the waning light of day. The voice in his head spoke again.

"I found our way out. There's a jumpship across this yard, in dock thirteen. We should be able to use it to reach the City."

He felt his gaze tugged towards a low, rusted out building on the far side of the grounds he had emerged into, a few hundred meters away. He took a breath.

"Ok," he said simply. The word felt strange in his mouth, and his own voice sounded somewhat… distant? Unfamiliar? He wasn't sure. Something else to get used to, he supposed. He pressed onward, moving at a slight jog towards the hangar. And then the sky exploded. He covered his face with a forearm as the nova of blue light bloomed into existence. And riding the wave of energy was a pair of ships.

They weren't shaped like any ships he knew, though. They were long, bulky, and wingless, with rounded fronts and sharp tails. They looked rusty and misshapen, like they were cobbled together from pieces of scrap. They reminded him of insects. Giant, metal insects. That evidently spit out smaller insects.

Shit.

He ducked behind some cover, hoping the creatures hadn't spotted him. The noise of gunfire erupted, peppering his hiding spot and dashing his dreams.

"What are these guys, anyway?" he grumbled to himself as he fumbled to reload his weapon.

"Fallen." the voice in his head replied. "Alien pirates and scavengers who have taken to living inside old abandoned industrial centers and hunting down humans."

"So, hunting down me?"

"Bingo."

"Well, that's unpleasant."

"Yep. We'll have more time for history later. First, you need to shoot that dreg over there, preferably before he stabs you."

He looked, and sure enough, one of the two-armed versions of the creatures was creeping up on him with a dagger in hand. He swung out from his cover just long enough to blow its head off, then ducked back down. He managed this a few more times before the bastards stopped trying to creep up on him. He waited for what felt like an eternity for one of them to make a move. They didn't. Knowing he couldn't stay like this forever, he slowly stood up, weapon in hand, to try and get a better visual on where they were and how many were left.

He barely had time to react as a clawed hand closed around his throat and yanked him up into the air. The Fallen before him was taller than the others by a few feet, and a lot bulkier. It worn a fancier helmet with more prominent horns, and all four of its arms were armored and muscled. What's more, its whole body was engulfed in a glowing field that sizzled against his armor.

The creature spat snarled words and flecks of spittle into his face in equal measure as he felt his windpipe slowly being crushed. He fumbled around for his weapon, only to find he had dropped it to the ground. His mind raced, frantically searching for a way out. His heart pounded, his blood boiled. His whole body thrummed with primal terror and energy. He scrabbled against his Fallen captor with gloved hands, trying desperately to get it to drop him. The alien only laughed, then squeezed harder.

Terror gave way to rage, and he felt his hand clench into a fist. Then, more out of spite than any desire to actually escape, he punched the Fallen in the face. He felt a wave of energy blast through his body, concentrating at the tip of his fist and erupting when it made contact with the creature's helmet. The Fallen's head snapped back, letting out a loud, low crack that echoed through the ancient scrapyard. Its body shuddered, and then gave way, falling to the ground and releasing him.

He fell too, sucking in air only to hack it back out again. He slowly pushed himself back to his feet, snagging his rifle from where he'd dropped it as he did.

"Ship. Now." the voice in his head advised. He nodded between fits of coughing, and started loping off towards the hangar once more. There were a couple of the two-armed Fallen waiting inside, along with some hefty flying drones of some variety. He managed to dispatch them pretty quick, with his injuries from the previous skirmish having healed while he made his way over.

He pushed further into the building, and that's when he found it. Suspended a ways off the ground in a spacious inner chamber was the angled, ancient form of a jumpship. Its tiny cockpit, roughly triangular body, and pair of massive thrusters made it the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Granted, that wasn't saying much given how little living he'd done so far, but the ship meant freedom and safety, and that was more than enough for him.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the first person to find it. As he stepped out into the chamber, another one of the larger, shielded Fallen clambered up over the ship and then dropped to the ground, roaring out a challenge. Despite its bravado, however, the creature didn't seem as inclined to rush over within range of his fists as its earlier compatriot had been. Worse still was the swarm of cries and cackles that headed the beast's call. He watched with growing dread as at least a dozen more of the creatures began emerging from around the large room.

He slid behind a crate as a smattering of glowing blue projectiles went twisting towards him through the air, trying to track his movements. However, they couldn't turn quick enough to keep up with him and ended up striking his cover instead. He quickly let off a slavo of fire back in that direction, and was rewarded with a cry of pain from one of the shooters. Three of the two-armed Fallen lurched around his cover, knives at the ready. He blasted one with a hand full of force, and shot the second half a dozen times in the chest. But the third managed to score a stab into his shoulder while he was occupied, causing him to cry out in pain before unloading a clip in the offender's face.

He ripped the knife out of his shoulder and gasped, trying to ignore the pain while he waited for the wound to heal.

"There's too many," he growled. "They're gonna overwhelm me any second."

"Not if I have a say in the matter," replied the voice.

He felt more power surge through him, once again concentrating in his hand. But instead of stopping at his fist as it had before, it moved past it, collecting in his palm and forming into a metallic shape; one whose name he knew.

Grenade.

"Thanks," he said to the voice. His shoulder mostly healed, he made a move, leaping to his feet and lobbing the device towards his attackers in a single fluid motion. The metal trinket went sailing towards a cluster of three Fallen, the ones who had been providing covering fire for the others. A moment after it hit the ground, the grenade erupted into a sphere of purple energy. The three aliens were engulfed, and their dying screams tore through the air as their bodies were ripped apart, reduced to little more than flashes of violet light.

The other Fallen hesitated after the display, suddenly far less eager to target him. Pressing the advantage they'd so kindly given him in doing so, he leaped over his cover and let off a number of rounds. Two-armed and four-armed alike fell, and he'd cleared at least three of them before a single shot was returned. And once they refocused and started firing back, he ran, dodging to the side and reloading, only to go right back to shooting once his chamber was full.

Eventually, he realized he was out of ammo, and was forced to slide behind yet more cover, muttering a curse to himself as he did so. The presence in his mind wordlessly directed his attention towards the ammo pack of a nearby corpse. Unclear as to how ammo made for an entirely different weapon could be helpful, he nonetheless scooped it up, trusting that the voice knew what it was doing. After a moment of holding it in his hand, the ammo vanished, only to reappear almost instantly. However, it had seemingly been reformatted into a magazine for his own weapon. Nodding his thanks, he slid it into his rifle and went back to shooting.

The enemy's numbers were dwindling, and he was starting to feel as though he might actually survive. So it was only natural that now would be the time the big Fallen would make itself known. The armored creature slid out from behind a pillar, raised some sort of heavy weapon onto its shoulder, and began to fire back. The bursts of shrapnel slammed into him, tearing away at his shields and his flesh. He snarled and started firing back, watching as the Fallen's own glowing shield began to flicker under his salvo.

Unfortunately, the alien was made of sterner stuff, and he had to drop back down for a moment to recover. Fortunately, he could feel the energy of another grenade tingling in his fingertips, so he manifested it and tossed it at the big fellow as he went down. A moment later, he peeked back up to observe his handiwork. The Fallen was still standing, but not unharmed. His shield was gone, as was one of his arms; it seemed he hadn't managed to fully dodge the grenade's hungry explosion.

The leader was panting, hard, and his hold on his weapon was shaking. Deciding that he wouldn't get a better shot, he moved. He dashed around his cover and straight at the Fallen. It raised its weapon, but he jumped to the side, avoiding its first blast. This allowed him to get close enough to melee the creature. So he did. A ripple of force slammed into the alien's chest, knocking it onto its back. He leaped up onto its torso, planted his rifle under its chin, and pulled the trigger.

The creature's head shook around frantically, unnaturally. After a moment or two, its helmet cracked and shattered, releasing a stream of luminescent gas as the body's wild scrambling and jerking weakened, slowed, and stopped. He stepped off of the now headless Fallen, breathing heavily, and glanced around the room, only to see the few scavengers that remained scuttling away into the shadows.

"Glad that's over," he commented with a weak sigh of relief.

"They're regrouping, not retreating. Keep your guard up while I try to get this jumpship started."

The little white robot with the blue eye, a.k.a. The voice in his head, reappeared next to him and flew up towards the ship, only to vanish again. He let out another sigh, this one much less relieved, and hefted his rifle to the ready. His wounds might've healed, but his body still ached.

"Most of the parts are still here, which is very lucky. But it's so old… that might not be enough…"

The voice was coming over some sort of speaker in his helmet now; a comm, that was the word. He didn't reply, as he didn't think he knew anything about jumpship repair. He instead focused his attention on the space around them, keeping an eye out for the blue glow of Fallen eyes.

The glow he found instead was red. A cluster of red lights- eight to be precise, if his count was correct- flickered on in one of the tunnels leading into the room. And then they started getting bigger.

"Uh… we might have a problem. How's that ship coming?"

"Sorry, nothing I'm doing is working! It's in good enough condition, I don't know why- wait… is that…? Yes, it is. There's a light signature inside the ship!"

The red lights were coming closer, close enough that he could discern their owner. It was a Fallen, a huge one, several feet taller than the big ones he had foguth earlier. Its helmet bore two grand metal horns, and either these things could have way more eyes than he thought or that visor was compensating for something. The creature moved out into the room with a low, thundering growl and a footstep that made the ground shake slightly.

"Why does it matter that it has lights?! Can it fly or not?!"

"Lights? That's not what I- ugh, forget it. Hmm… it's so weak… maybe if I-"

Another roar tore through the room as the jumpship's engines flamed to life. The massive Fallen stopped its advance to watch as the supports holding the ship up snapped like twigs. The craft fell for an instant before catching itself and hovering in place, lights flaring and engines revving. He felt the presence of his robotic companion return to his mind.

"Great job getting it up and running! Now we can-"

"This isn't me."

"...what? What do you mean?"

"This isn't me! I'm not the one flying it!"

He felt confusion wash over him, replacing the brief elation he had felt when the ship powered on.

"If not you, then…"

His words were interrupted when the ship decided to shatter.

First went the front. The jumpship's long, thin prow split in two perfectly down the middle, with each half locking to the side where they began to split further, developing joints and boot-like feet. Next came the body of the ship. The cockpit came sliding down, forming a torso and forcing the wings out to the side where they too began to split and reformat into bulky, jointed appendages with what looked like hands on the ends. The ship's thrusters remained largely intact, only shifting around so that they were positioned over the new body like some pair of shoulder-mounted weapons. Finally, the torso forced up and out a blocky chunk of metal with a thick black helmet and two glowing blue eyes. The jumpship- though that hardly seemed an appropriate term for it now, given the circumstances- landed on the ground with a boom that shook the entire facility. It reared up to its full height, towering over both him and the otherwise massive Fallen newcomer.

The guardian stood there, staring at the giant metal warrior in awe and fear. And he could feel it staring right back.