He skulked about the place. It wasn't a hard thing to do, at least not now. He'd seen it on high alert though. Any other Guardian would've alerted Them already. Any other Guardian would be 'shit out of luck'. But not him, he'd grown accustom to the particular tactics required. He knew that Toland wouldn't be proud. He had the sneaking suspicion that the man might be furious. Because John was circumventing every tenant of the Hive.

John Bowman didn't come to blows with anything unless necessary. His thoughts were drawn away… He could hear it already. But to see, to know, was far more beautiful. And he could see it now. This peculiar variant of Hive construction was somehow, more technological. If you could call anything used by the Hive, technology as opposed to magic. But, the exact workings of this were unimportant.

What was of import, was the giant orange orb ahead of him, it was moving again. He knew what that meant.
_

He was in a main court-yard now. He let himself look up for a moment and see the dark beyond. And the light which wouldn't reach, not down here. He'd have to check the summoning pits later, little-little-Phogoth could wait. He moved forward, standing still, here, was a death-sentence.

The Hellmouth was surprisingly sparse. The Hive were too busy warring with the dewy and new House of Exile above. They would never resist a fight. Fighting, to them was as necessary as the air in his lungs was to him. Still, there were few here. Thrall ate of the dead, Acolytes prayed to the dead, Knights preyed on the dead and Wizards, oh-no, they did something very different. They were the only things here that got their claws on the living.

And a very specific set of Wizards he was hunting for, were sure to be doing just that.
_

He followed that map he'd received from the 'Worlds Grave'. He remembered his last intrusion into the world of the Hive. Fireteam Aleph-Ultima was only happy to unwittingly share with him the prize that they sought. In-fact, they didn't even notice the extra Hive that were sent to dispatch him. They vaingloriously assumed they were worthy of the extra onslaught they received for shielding his presence.

As he went down he could feel it, the pull of the Light. But just as with the Shrine to Oryx, he had to know. So he went deeper, passed a Knight in prayer and the Acolytes that mimicked him. His transit disturbed the Knight, and if the thought wasn't so morbid, he would've laughed out-loud as the thing raged and tore its comrades asunder… Cleaving its own kin for a transgression He committed.

Then he found the Wizards… Preparing for the Ritual. The glowing Shard hovered in place, darkness slowly creeping over it. Images alone would be enough for Ikora, for the Speaker. For the rest of the Vanguard, he wanted more. For himself, he needed more. Because something told him that the Knight he passed might not be as drowsy as it had been the first-time and it surely wouldn't have any subordinates to blame that next-time.

He thought about how Roland would handle it… Then jumped, glided and the Hive seemed utterly confused, shocked. He went-up, thrusted Light through the dark shroud and touched the Shard. He felt the Light, not-yet tainted. He let it wash over him, threw Fusion-grenades into the Acolytes and Thrall below him. Then he ran because the whole of the Hellmouth would be upon him in seconds.

The Hive were not expecting this, they had no-reason to think a Guardian could hide from them, sneak passed them. Why would they? They'd never known that Eris Morn had survived. He shot as he ran, used the Light to steal the life-force from an enemy to make a shield. Eventually with Thrall at his heels, he passed the Knight, a quick swipe made short work of his overshield but he kept running, kept making the pace.

And he was sure, sure that he was home-free. But little-little-Phogoth was not so small anymore. Just as these things usually were, the smallest was actually the strongest. And it was here. He saw the Shackles, with Hive runes on them so large and heavy that the creature's claws were held to the floor and Knights pulled it by chains… Towards the Summoning Pits. Then a beam of Void blasted Bowman, Gliding was not the best evasive move and the Creature's head was not as restrained as its fists. He found himself up against a rock, Thrall and Knights came for him from whence he'd come. This wasn't how he'd expected this to go.

Standing still here was still a death sentence, now more than ever. He threw the last grenade he had to the Ogre, heard the stick, heard the roar and jumped up on-top of the rock. Then jumped again and glided upwards. He climbed up the Hive architecture, the moon-rock. Then a barrage of Boomer shots hit him, he fell. The ground came quickly, and he died.
_

But that last-part, didn't make it into the report he gave to Ikora. He was sure she suspected, hell, she'd made a couple jokes to him alluding that she knew. But he'd keep it unofficial, he'd keep it a secret, that they both knew, but wouldn't seriously speak of. He wouldn't tell her how he'd almost let the dark swallow him then, how he'd sang the song with a sense of bitterness. He'd sang it true though. And here he was, to prove that death wasn't as enticing as the future he'd been shown he would create.

Ikora read the report as the two of them walked to an area of the Tower which offered more privacy than the Vanguard Operations-center. John preferred to turn-in his reports personally. However, as happened every so-often, she could see in his eyes that they needed to talk about this one. He closed the door behind them as she walked to the secluded balcony, leaned forward on the railing and turned her head to the side to see him. "So, should I show you mine first?"

It was a rare joke that elicited a rare smile of mirth from Bowman. "first?" He asked with the smile still lingering, then continued: "I've already shown you everything I have to offer." John joined her at the rail but stood with his hands behind his back. The two of them looked-out over the wilderness passed the Wall, passed the warmth of safety that emanated under the sleeping form of the Traveler.

But the playful moment passed and Ikora was reminded that this was more than just an excuse to tease the man. "You obviously wanted to discuss something. Don't tell me it's-" And the green-eyed man answered before she could add a question mark to the sentence: "It-is. I'm telling you Ikora, that a strike has to be authorized on it." John paused, and narrowed his eyes, a tone of urgency crept into his voice: "We let this thing live, there's no-telling what kind of obstacle it will present once we finally execute a raid on the Hellmouth."

"You sound like Zavala when you get like this." The Warlock Vanguard gave him a long-look, it wasn't necessarily a negative and her voice held a sort-of reverence when she said it. But in her eyes was a minor scold nonetheless and she added to it: "Another among the Hidden tells me that the creature isn't a threat, and still won't be by the time we have all the pieces in place for the operation." But there was fire in his eyes. "Eris, hasn't seen Phogoth recently and I doubt she'd say that again, once she knows they've already taken it to the Summoning Pits."

Whenever he was right, it made her feel older, like she was already starting to lose the touch she had when she was Osiris' pupil. And in this moment, she felt older by more than a couple years. "Relax John, I'll do everything I can to authorize the strike. But only after there's no possibility of damage to the Shard." She pointedly looked at him as she'd spoken the second sentence. The look he gave her back was satisfied, if a bit reproaching. "Yes, I know, no-damage to the Shard. That reminds me." And John reached into the satchel that always hung from his shoulder, taking a glowing cylinder from it, he handed the cylinder to Ikora.

"That's strict-proof, light eternal enough to satisfy the rest of the Vanguard and send the Speaker into a frenzy." The Warlock Vanguard's eyes shot fully open and she took the tube of light in hand with her mouth even slightly agape. "You got close enough to touch it?" And then she looked at him, once-again her eyes scolding. "John, you didn't need to, you shouldn't have taken the chance." He sighed and tried to give her a guilty smile "Ikora, the Consensus needs this to justify an official return to Luna, and I knew what it would mean to you to have it."

And Ikora Rey, for the first-time that he'd known her, held a look at-least half as guilty as his own. Her hand touched his shoulder and she spoke. "John, this is important. But the Light you carry means more to the City than a trinket full of lost Light. The mind you carry, is worth just as-much alone." John urged himself to relax and slowly took the woman's hand off of himself. "I know all that. It was a calculated risk. Maybe next-time, you'll have an excuse for me to bring a fireteam." John feigned thoughtfulness as he looked up-and-away. "Maybe say… Oh, I don't know, because it's an official strike operation?"

Ikora laughed and after exchanging parting words she made her way to the Speaker's chamber. John decided to go to his dormitory for well-needed rest.
_

Rest would come to him, and rest would leave him. John, once-again wore his armor and over-coat as he made a quick pace through the blocks of the city. Not every Guardian used the complementary bed and board offered by the Tower. Certainly, no-one with as many secrets to hide and enemies to hide from as His close-friend did. He placed a call and listened as it dialed.

"Ah, Mr. Bowman! I take it you're keeping the appointment?" a honey-filled feminine voice said over the line. It had taken more than a couple dials, and each one had rung all the-way-through. He had once been mildly annoyed at the antics, but it was usual now. He would've been immensely suspicious if it were any-other-way. He replied: "Yes, I am. It seems our mutual-friend however, is not."

"I'm terribly sorry Mr. Bowman, I didn't want to disturb him with the wake-up-call. You know how peaceful he seems while he sleeps..." John didn't let humor creep into his voice, they wouldn't get-off that easy. Not with John Bowman they wouldn't. "I don't make a habit of watching people sleep Ria. Would you tell him to get ready? We can't miss the match." And as John finished, he couldn't help but think about last-time, when Shaxx had decided to pit the two of them against the rest of both the enemy team, and their own.

"I already have!" The voice replied with glee that almost sounded a bit smug. John sighed to himself and shook his head. "I'll be there soon Ria." And he waited for the reply. "Then I guess I'll see you soon, Mr. Bowman, have a nice walk!" With that, John ended the call. It wasn't long at all before he entered the building.

He went to the elevator, pressed the button for the appropriate floor and waited for the ascension to end before opening his eyes and exiting. He came to the door and entered the sort-of airlock chamber which separated the apartment from the main hall. He stood idly wringing his hands and cracking his knuckles as scanning beams flew over him. The beams stopped, moments passed feeling more like minutes. Then the door went from it's closed-state to its open state and John found himself wishing that people still used analog doors.

John stood at a decent 5'11, just a bit under average. He had to look down slightly to address the Awoken before him. Unfortunately, there was no-way to look his friend in the eye and not see everything else. It was times like these he hated his friend's boundless confidence. John scoffed lightly and turned his eyes straight forward.

"John, don't be a stiff. Come-on in." The 5'5, blue-skinned Awoken said casually as he idly thumbed his belly-button. Then turned around and walked to the main-room. Shielding Johns eyes from the Awoken's manhood, but giving him an eye-full of moon. He wasn't sure which made him feel more uncomfortable.

Roland turned his head back to John and spoke low: "Don't worry, you're not my only guest." They entered the main-room. It was incredibly spacious, with a high ceiling and windows that went all the way up to it. Divided in three main sections there was a sunken living area with a semi-circular couch around a combination fire-pit/holographic-entertainment-center. A raised, almost stage-area Roland used as a bed-room, with wardrobe, mirrors and bed.

The level that sat between them served as a walk-way which connected to the entry hall, bathroom and kitchen-area, which came complete with a bar-style counter to section it off.

Roland climbed-up the four steps which led to his bed-area. And John found his eyes upon the other guest Roland mentioned. A young-woman, who barely looked over 20 lay on the bed with her alabaster-behind as high in the air as she could hang it. Her head was turned away. "Roland, did you send them away yet…? I'm aching over here." She had a neutral-accented voice like John himself. Roland's reply came as he pulled-on a pair of boxers from the floor. "Babe, I think you should know: You're giving Him, not them, a very nice view right-now…" Roland's rough voice emanated loudly as mischief came over his lips.

The woman popped her head up immediately, turned to John and blushed as she unceremoniously threw the covers over her naked form. She let black-hair cover purple eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. John tore his eyes from her and sent them to the windows as Roland spoke again. "John, this is Corrie, a beautiful Bladedancer I met at the Tower lounge just a few nights ago." Roland made his way down the stairs, and to the kitchen. "Corrie, this is John the Dove, the only man I ever loved." John, a tad nervous, tipped a hat that wasn't there as Corrie waved her fingers sheepishly.

John barely heard the clinking before- "Fore!" Roland bellowed as a bottle sailed towards John. He put his hand-up to grab it. But it bounced, and he bobbled it at least twice before it was securely in his hands. He twisted the cap off and was grateful for the early morning drink. Another one sailed high and landed on the bed next to Corrie, who seemed equally accepting of the beer. Roland sipped his own now.

John furrowed his brow and was the first to break the silence: "Ria, come-on-out…" The lavender-shelled Ghost appeared. "Yes Mr. Bowman?" John barely noticed the look of shock on Corrie's face as she flipped her hair back. He narrowed his eyes at the Ghost. "You should've warned me. You have to get space-cowboy over here to explain to you the intricacies of these sort-of… Situations." John finished, looking to Roland who was about to speak before- "Your Ghost was in here the whole time!?" Corrie exclaimed as her blush flared and she had to close her eyes as she tried to hide a smile, further-scandalized.

"I saw the whole thing! And may-I-say Ms. Eve, your sexual-form complements Rolands better than any-female I've yet observed!" Euphoria spoke, destroying Roland's second chance to say something to salvage the situation. The bed-fellows laughed as John could only hang his head back and groan, letting mirth spread across his face.

The short Defender Titan made his way to the bedside and gave the young-woman a kiss. John could swear he heard Roland make the girl an offer. He heard a yelp and snapped his head to see Roland pick her up and start carrying her down the stairs. "John, you pervert! Avert your eyes from my woman!" Roland said with mock-offense and John rolled his eyes but didn't bring them back to the couple.

He heard faint whispering for a second followed by a mischievous laugh. "Actually, Corrie's had a great idea." John could hear the smirk in Roland's voice. "She's suggested I offer for you to join us." Then John heard a door opening. "Nope, I already took a shower this morning. Besides…" John kept all but the barest of smirks from coming across his face and give them one last look. "I can barely conceive that she handles you, no-telling what would happen if I were added to that mix." John said it as-if some catastrophe would occur. He took another swig, finding his bottle almost empty.

Roland laughed, and John could swear he heard an 'Awe' of disappointment come from Corrie as the door to the bathroom slid shut. He decided to have a chat with Euphoria about decency and social signals while the other two got cleaned-up.
_

Author's Notes:

This chapter got away from me and ended up being quite a bit longer than initially expected. I won't bore you with the excuses of why I've been sitting on this for a good few months instead of just posting it.

On the Chapter: This last section was a bit of a coin flip, I hate gratuitous sexual content that's just thrown-in because something holds an adult rating. But here, I hope it serves to further characterize Roland and show you the casual nature of both his friendships and sexual relationships. I'm happy with how this chapter turned-out, especially considering that it's the first-one that runs continuously from a single perspective/has a linear sequence of events. I wanted each character's intro to feel unique, you think I've accomplished that reasonably well?

Time: The story of D1 can be assumed to take place over the course of days or even hours. Remember the line 'our' Ghost makes in the Cosmodrome? "We'll be able to reach the Forgotten Shore in seconds." In this story, I want things to be different, D1('expansions' and all) by my head cannon here, takes-place over the course of months, years, maybe even a decade or two. Between some chapters there will be large time-gaps.

Protagonism: I espoused last-chapter that I don't like the idea of just one (Guardian)Fireteam discovering every planet, this goes for missions, strikes and raids as well. It seems more reasonable to me that different fireteams take-on the various activities Destiny has to offer. I'll let you figure-out where Shattered Glass fits-in among the Fireteams formed under the Vanguard.

I hope the lore-nods are appreciated and that my hinting isn't too obvious. I know it can hurt a story to have the SUBTLETY bashed against one's head...

To be truthful, what got me to take a look and post another chapter, was seeing a new follow/favorite. So R&R is greatly appreciated.