This one was based on the canon that the Guardian doesn't speak. My brother and I like to wonder if that's because the Guardian can't. That and when I asked my brother what to do with a massive hole on Nessus his first response was "puppet theater". You're welcome, Sir Monkey Knight.

Spreading his arms, the Guardian faced the sun, drinking in its warmth and feeling the wind through his fingers. Nessus might be a Vex-controlled centaur, but it was still beautiful. The Guardian simply wanted to take in the surface before he had to plunge beneath it.

"Eyes up, Guardian," his Ghost said. "We're here for the mission, not the scenery."

The Awoken Titan waved Ghost away dismissively. He jumped down from the rock column he was perched on and dusted off his full Crucible armor, briefly remembering the hours upon days of getting his butt handed to him to earn it. Following the marker Ghost had set, he took off at a jog, headed towards a large metal hole in the ground. It had recently opened up, and despite its Golden Age appearance had no sign of rust or age. Naturally, the curious Hunter Vanguard Cayde-6 had sent the Guardian to explore it.

"Captain, I am detecting odd frequencies from the aperture," chirped Failsafe, an AI aboard the Exodus Black, a research ship that had crashed on Nessus years ago. Her demeanor switched as she malfunctioned briefly. "You could totally die," she deadpanned.

"That's comforting," Ghost muttered, rolling his single eye as the Guardian came to a halt at the hole's edge. They peered into it together. Ghost scanned it quickly. "Failsafe's right. There are some weird sounds coming from down there. I'll see if i can play back the waves."

Ghost hovered for a moment, converting his scan, then played the sound bite. It was…

"The music you are playing was often featured at carnivals, circuses, and fairs all the way through Earth's Golden Age," Failsafe interrupted cheerfully. "It sounds like it's being played by a terrible recorder."

The Guardian, intrigued, shrugged and readied his MIDA Multi-Tool, then jumped into the gaping maw. He landed on a few platforms on the way down, boost jumping before each so he didn't die before he even reached the bottom. Finally, he landed.

Ghost proceeded in front of him, taking multiple scans and leading him down a tunnel in the round side of the hole that glowed with a warm gold light. As he advanced, the Guardian could hear carnival music growing louder, and decided Failsafe was accurate; someone was playing the recorder like they were trying to imitate a wounded bird. At the end of a tunnel was a ragged red curtain, with a cardboard sign in front of it. Upon closer inspection, it read, in ragged crayon, "Pleese come enjoi the Show!" Several letters were backwards.

The Guardian pushed through the curtain, shrugging, and was met with a small theater, complete with Dawning lights and a haphazardly constructed stage.

"What on Earth…" Ghost trailed off, his back half twisting as he tried to make sense of the situation. He hovered backwards, alarmed, as something poked its head from behind the stage's curtains, squawked, and ran - or rather, shuffled - towards the Guardian. It looked like…

"A sock puppet?"

The Guardian was just as confused as his Ghost, shaking his head and bringing up his hands in a "heck if I know" gesture. The sock puppet stopped under the Guardian's hand, jumping up and down, googly eyes rattling, yarn arms reaching for the glove just out of grasp. The Guardian hesitantly put away his Multi-Tool, crouching slightly and letting the puppet take hold of his finger. It happily led him to a large pillow on the floor, urging him to sit, and dashed backstage. It reappeared briefly, motioning for the Guardian to take off his helmet. The Titan complied, still confused.

Curtains raising, the bad recorder tune swelled with more mediocre instruments, until it sounded like a flute ensemble careening down the world's bumpiest road. More living sock puppets danced on stage, pantomiming a tragic love story (the ending of which could have been avoided with simple communication) and finishing with a dramatic flourish.

Ghost and the Guardian shared a look - the Titan shrugged and applauded.

This seemed to excite the socks; they began to jump wildly around the stage, waving their string arms and squawking. The room rumbled, a quaking that gradually became stronger until the Guardian was pitched off his cushion. He landed on his back while Ghost zipped around him, startled. Above them, the ceiling was ripped away, clawed off by massive wooden hands.

"Welcome, puppet," intoned an ethereal voice. Ghost, its eye red, scanned the enormous face of a giant marionette. Black, smoke-like energy poured from the inky expanse behind the behemoth and surrounded the Guardian, crawling up his red armor and seeping into his nose and mouth. Alarmed, he tried to claw it away in vain. The voice spoke again.

"A puppet master took your choice. You lost your will, now gain your voice."

The Guardian convulsed once, shook his head, and sat up, massaging his throat. When he looked up, the room was back to its innocent setup.

"What the hell just happened?" the Titan rasped.

Ghost just stared at him, awestruck.

"What?"

"Guardian…" Ghost whispered. "You just talked."

The Guardian's eyes widened in comprehension. "Holy cotton socks…"

A sock puppet traipsed from the stage and cuddled the Guardian's arm.

Ghost glanced at it. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

I did try to warn you.