Callahan scratched the Cheeto dust from his permanent stubble as he scrolled down the list on his computer screen. He found one. 'LFG, Sweaty sherpa needed for the Garden of Salvation. Light level maximum required'. His smile lifted the rolls of fat that hid his chin like an optical illusion of herding Zebras. He fit the description. He was an expert in leading teams of Guardians to success after success in raids. As a bonus, Callahan was the only Guardian to understand the mechanics in the Garden. He had never conquered it of course, he had never tried. But the hunter had crept silently, invisibly, through the raid for the better part of a year. He took notes, he documented the constructs, the frames, their behavior. In a phrase, he knew what he was doing. This would be a solar system first, and his name would go down in the history books. He opened his directory and embarked to the edge of the Black Garden, the raid starting point.
His foot tapped until the minimal reserves of muscle left in his fatty legs ran dry of energy and cramped. He looked at his watch. It was nearly 1:00 and no one had shown up. The party was set to meet at 10 am.
He chugged another energy drink and burped.
His raiding party phased into existence with dramatic flair. He rose from his meaty haunches to greet them, only to be met with bickering.
"And you, Lewis, asked for a fresh batch of fries!"
"It ain't my fault bruv, if they make them on the spot they come hot and properly seasoned."
The irritated Warlock, Jabes Fire Wolf, the greatest Guardian to ever exist, shook his bag of Space Arbies in anger.
"My schedule is as busy as it is important! This raid was scheduled hours ago! And where's our filthy, grimy Sherpa! Lazy bastard, later than even us most likely!"
Callahan's fatty eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the uncomfortably apt description. "You kept me waiting," he said.
Jabes' frown twisted into an amicable smile. "Ah, my good chum, a pleasure to be working with me I'm sure. You came with the highest level of recommendation from the Council of Neckbeards. I trust you to follow me straight to victory! We've assembled a group of competent Guardians for once, the chickens are all but hatched and counted. I am Jabes Fire Wolf, greatest guardian who has ever lived or who ever shall live, praise be my name. And this is -"
"Who?" Callahan asked. Jabes stopped, eye twitching.
"Excuse me?" The Exo asked.
"Never heard of you."
Jabes launched himself to Callahan with a sonic boom and mounted the stunned fool. The Warlock held the sherpa's suspenders tight, his feet on the rotund man's chest, nose to nose. "You are mistaken. Everyone knows who I am! Only the recently undeceased have the excuse not to know!"
"Don't know what to tell you pal. Your name isn't in the Fuzz Clan directory."
Langston had never seen someone physically short circuit before but there it was. Jabes launched a squealing Callahan off the map and quickly pulled up the holonet and searched for Fuzz Clan leadership while the Sherpa respawned. It was true. Where his name should be read nothing but [redacted] every time. "Ikora you whore," He whispered, trembling in fury. "I'll get you for this disgrace."
Callahan desperately tried to get control of the situation. This was his raid, he wouldn't let some foolish, tall, physically capable man with a normal BMI take the reins.
He spoke as loudly as he could, and lined up the members of his fireteam. He took stock. This 'Jabes' character, currently firing Chaos Reach the speed at which Callahan downed Cheetos bags, was by far the most troubling from a self worth standpoint. Callahan wiped the sweat from his forehead but only managed to soak it more with the greater amount of sweat on his forearm.
Next was this 'Lewis' character. He ate his Space Arby's fries and subconsciously gyrated his hips as he spoke, but his lanky and pale appearance calmed the Sherpa. Necessary and acceptable.
The Titan, whose eyes despondently stared at the ground concerned Callahan as well. His shoulders and biceps and general hygiene were clear threats to his self image. But the emptiness in his eyes and therefore soul told him that he could stand out as a legend from this man, as was easy against any of the emotionally broken.
The last man was a hunter who stood twirling a large sock with something heavy inside. He looked calm, at peace, vaguely content with life. Callahan felt rivers of sweat flow from between his layers of flesh. "Let's get our gear set and a full headcount. You-" He pointed at Langston, smelling his newness to raids like a hound sniffing out their fellow's piss. "What have you got equipped?"
"Le Monarque"
"Dear Traveller, a bow? No no no that won't do. What is your secondary?"
"Biting winds"
Callahan's blood pressure spiked, his arteries flared into panicked overdrive to compensate for his rage and atherosclerosis.
"I hesitate to even ask, but what's your heavy?"
"Leviathan."
The sherpa desperately searched around in his inventory for a Bayer Aspirin, and swallowed it in the nick of time, barely avoiding a heart attack.
The wheezing and dramatics eventually came to a halt, and he decided to press the issue no further. His health couldn't take another hit. This 'Langston' would add-clear, and he just had to make sure the man stayed out of his way. It would practically be a five man fireteam. Still, 'redacted' had a kill death ratio technically undefined for PVE. The math error from dividing millions by zero made Callahan's barely contained bladder quiver in fear. They could make this work.
"Five man fireteam…" He whispered. "But wait, where's our sixth?"
The white korean popstar Lewis sped his gyrating hips to astonishing speeds, "The Master'll be here in a moment."
Jabes gestured to Lewis. "Yes, our friend here has scouted the most impressive Guardian outside of the Fuzz clan. He has assured me that this punctually impaired warrior is a 'master'."
Before Callahan could move on he recognized the gun that Lewis held, "Wait, is that Divinity?! THE DIVINITY?!" Callahan could barely contain his jealousy. How could the bastard have gotten the gun? It was only earned after completing a secret mechanic, one which only he knew about in this very raid.
"Wut of it?" Lewis replied unconcerned.
"How did you get that?"
"Oh you know, sticky fingers." Lewis shoved his right hand casually into his trousers. Jabes slapped him across the face.
"You are banned from mentioning your fingers, their habits, and especially their stickiness, henceforth Lewis."
The fireteam heard the sound of a transportation grid, the flop of a guardian landing to the floor, and turned with baited breath. The Master had arrived. Even Jabes, after hearing Lewis describe the Guardian so vaguely and simply as 'the master' was interested in their sixth member.
There he was, in all his diminutive glory.
No one spoke for a solid minute. Jabes broke the silence, "Is this a joke?"
Langston slammed the twirling sock into the ground and jumped and clapped his hands in glee as his Ghost spun discombobulated out of the garment.
"LEWIS!" Oliver screamed. He bodied the hunter and slammed his fists into the pale man's weak jaw as was becoming his custom.
"Why. Why. WHY!" Callahan screamed to the heavens. This raid could not start off with a worse team. Impossible. It was impossible!
"Hi everybody!" Came the squeak of a child's voice.
A 13 year old, wearing armor far too big for him, stood with his chest puffed out proudly.
Lewis died and respawned and fled from Oliver. "What do you mean? This is the master!"
Jabes cocked an eyebrow, "This is the master?"
"Sorry I'm late everybody, I had to get a note to leave school early." The kid scratched his neck nervously.
"Christ. On. Sale. Lewis." Jabes said through bared 'teeth'.
Langston patted the child on the head, grinning from ear to ear. "Jabes, you shouldn't have. You bought me a pet monkey?! How did you know?!"
"I'm not a monkey! I'm a Guardian! My name is Master Snuffles."
"Oh for fucks sake," Jabes whispered and shook his head. "This monkey is no gift of mine, Langston. But, you may have it if you wish. Just make sure to keep it at least thirty feet away from Lewis. It was one of Zavala's conditions upon his release..."
Langston gripped the KinderGuardian and put him on his shoulders. "Together, Chimpsky, we shall be unstoppable!" The KinderGuardian's pride was insulted, but still, he could see so much from this height. He took his place on his mount. Langston's Ghost circled the child quizzically. "I didn't think other Ghosts even revived children. We can't take this boy into a warzone!"
Callahan sat on the floor, exhausted. "It's rare, but every once in a while a Ghost will slip up. Make a mistake, and resurrect a squeaker. Looks like your 'Master' is one of them."
He scrolled through the directory, hoping beyond hope that the KinderGuardian had more skill than his image implied.
His stomach plummeted. Master Snuffles, Wood Ranked in the crucible. The only member of the crucible to hold such a rank, and one undoubtedly made to differentiate this single guardian as the bottom of the bottom of the toilet bowl. A negative PVE K/D/A ratio. A negative ratio. He didn't even understand how it was possible.
Callahan took a stand. He needed to. His legend, his mythos, his pride was crumbling before him. "No. Absolutely not. We need another member. Boot him."
Langston's Ghost was in agreement. "I'm sorry Master Snuffles, but we can't conscientiously take you into a raid. It just wouldn't be right."
"Silence Lugnut!" Langston's Ghost instinctively flinched away and cowered in silent fear. The memory of the dreaded Sock lashed out at him like the buckle of a father's belt. Fresh and terrible in his mind. Langston turned to Callahan, "Sweaty sherpa-"
"Callahan."
"Callahan. Are you aware of the term 'force multiplier'?"
"No. No. No. We're not taking hi-"
Langston turned to Jabes, and realized that he only really needed to convince this person to keep his pet monkey for the Garden. "Jabes, as you are surely aware, a force multiplier induces an interaction effect for firepower. I alone, as powerful as I am, am new to raiding. And Chimpsky is... well... a chimpanzee. Impressive that he can hold a firearm, but still, a simian. However, what do you think would happen if we combined forces?"
"We would have a chimpanzee riding a noob," Jabes said. "I'm sorry Langston, you have proven yourself in the Crucible and in strikes. But a raid is different. Our social pariah of a sherpa -excuse me-" he nodded to Callahan "- our diabetic friend is right. No children, no monkeys. Besides, his very presence here with Lewis threatens a lawsuit so powerful it could undo years of legal corruption that I've woven into the Tower!"
Langston kept up the debate. "Jabes, as a master tactician you are aware of the Mongol horse archers of old."
"Yes, I take their lessons in pillaging to heart."
"Think of the sheer power of mounted archery. If it can slay the Romans, it can surely crush the Vex."
"Yes the Romans were certainly mighty." Jabes was barely listening to Langston. Instead he was enjoying the sight of the tiny Guardian struggling to stay aloft on his friend's shoulders. The little boy swayed too and fro, and nearly dropped his firearm. The longer he looked, the more the child looked like a small monkey.
"Now imagine if the horses themselves had bows! The Mongols would have conquered west of the Aegean, spread to the British isles, and their civilization would now be conquering the Cabal homeworld. I am the horse, I am the archer, Chimpsky is my noble rider. Think of the sheer power. I'll take full responsibility of course."
"Uh huh." Jabes had stopped listening. Langston hadn't noticed, but the child had lost his balance and was dangling pathetically on his shoulders, desperately trying to right himself. Jabes was amused.
"Once again you've convinced me, eloquent as always Mr. Hugs. But there are three conditions for you to keep your simian passenger." Jabes raised three fingers.
"30 feet from Lewis."
"Done."
"He must not consume our revival tokens"
"By my honor, he shall not die unless it should be entertaining."
"Acceptable. And you must clean his litter box. I won't be the one taking care of him, and I won't have both CPS and the ASPCA on my back. I already have to clean up after Lewis' messes."
"I'll do one better. I'll get him a nappy."
"Yes, yes, yes." The image of a monkey in a diaper — Jabes had at this point forgotten he was a human being— roaming around eating bananas and flinging feces at peasants,] brought a smile to his face. "Sherpa!"
"Don't tell me. Please Jabes, please."
"I owe my clan member this much at least. I'm not cruel enough to separate a man from his monkey. I may rob, steal, violate the Geneva convention, but I am a man of immeasurable empathy for those who are worthy."
"I won't do it. I won't lead a raid with this team. I'll back out."
"Oh my portly chum, you're mistaken on two points. First, I am leading this raid team. You are here only for the mechanics. Second, Zavala will have your surely unused testicles mounted on the Tower if you leave this fireteam."
Callahan knew it to be true. This raid was the top priority in the Tower. Zavala had put out a ping. For some unknown reason, he was desperate to have this raid completed with as few casualties as possible. His virgin balls would be forfeit.
"The monkey stays." Jabes stared him in the eyes. Callahan, though uppity and generally competent, lowered his gaze, true to the beta cuckness that was his nature.
Callahan redirected the conversation to a more productive line. A dialogue in which he was competent enough to hold his ground against these 'normies'. Or so he thought. "Ok, step one is the consecrated mind. We'll need two teams that will switch rolls after each door. One team will open the door itself, and the other will cleanse the Mind's annihilation. It will exude a white data stream that one of you will need to absorb, if not, it'll kill us all. This will be a recurring mechanic. Now -"
"You want us to swallow the Vex Mind's spunk?" Jabes asked. Lewis stopped eating fries and turned hipfirst to be a part of the conversation.
"What? No! It's not spunk, it's -"
"A dripply white fluid the machine will spit in our face or on the ground where we have to lap it up. Explain to me how this isn't spunk." Jabes said, arms crossed.
"I volunteer," Lewis said, hand raised.
"THERE ARE NO VOLUNTEERS!" Callahan shouted. "WE'RE ALL GONNA HAVE TO TAKE TURNS ON THE SPUNK - WAIT I MEAN THE - DAMN IT!"
Lewis nodded and rubbed his bits, "Sounds good to me bruv. Let's get started then."
Jabes looked at Lewis utterly content in life and his libido, and looked to his own smooth robotic frame. Genitals absent. "God damn I miss my penis," he whispered.
And thus, the noblest fireteam in the history of humanity, the greatest heroes it could muster, dove pelvis first into the Garden of Salvation. Two psychopaths, a deviant, a neckbeard, an ape-child, and Oliver braved the raid with valor - or at least something superficially resembling it.
Langston and the KinderGuardian performed. Not performed well. But performed. The flower lodged in Langston's frontal lobe that obliterated the Hunter's sense of empathy also removed his capacity for following even the simplest of directions, while the child was… a child. It was true that he was a force multiplier, or more accurately, Langston multiplied the meager force Master Snuffles could muster. If it had to be put into calculations, Langston performed at a 5/10. The child, at a 1.0000000001 out of ten. For a combined multiplicative capacity of 5.00000001 out of ten. Once again, Langston was correct, and again, only technically. Beyond using Langston's scalp as a sandbag for Sweet Business, the child was capable of only whinging, howling squeels about 'lag' and 'unfair Vex mechanics' as he was shielded from all danger by five men. Well, four barbarians and Oliver, at least.
Oliver imagined every Vex frame with Lewis' face and pounded them into butter with his bare hands. He died. Frequently. But he generated orbs of light, and was therefore a net positive to the team.
Lewis jumped and rolled and dove with impossible grace, firing all the while. He was as slippery as his fingers were sticky, and it became clear to Langston how the man had managed to evade capture for so many years.
Jabes and Callahan constantly fought for control over the team. Jabes' Unibeam and absurd recharge time were the only thing keeping the Vex legions, bosses, and Callahan's gruby man paws at bay, whilst the most athletic member of the council of neckbeards directed everyone through the mechanics crucial to success. To his credit however, Callahan was successfully accomplishing the tasks of three guardians: Langston's, Master Snuffles, and his own.
It wasn't long before they stood before the final encounter, The Sanctified Mind.
Callahan popped his heart and diabetes medications, "And now, it begins."
Jabes rolled his eyes, "This is the end, you manatee shaped buffoon."