The frozen grass made a firm crunch as the Titan set his first foot off of his jumpship. Winter's fury had grown since his last time in the Cosmodrome. Snow had come in much harder and the air had become extensively colder. The nighttime gave the area an eerie feel, the fog setting in and deterring vision. Anyone who happened to be in the Cosmodrome could barely see the sky. Maybe not even being able to see the Aurora Borealis which had started to light up parts of the area. Michael sighed as he looked around the barren remains. Starting this patrol marked his fiftieth time coming here. The same dreary looks as always. Keeping the Vanguards' request in mind, Michael started to complete his usual route. He figured that if he were to find anyone in the field, he would be able to observe their skills. Either that, or report their dead body to the Tower.

Michael wearily took his first step, readying his Cydonia for any possible threats. He looked around, cautiously watching any possible hiding locations for Fallen, maybe even Hive. The fog had started to increase in density, so he had to make sure that he always kept his guard up, although there wasn't much to keep his guard about. The area was mostly just cleared out land, with the occasional debris of a rocket or plane of sort, or an old communication area. The occasional gunshot in the distance always kept Michael on his toes. He hoped that if those shots were fired by Guardians, it was a shot to end the fight.

Michael continued his route; a figure-eight where he just passed the Forgotten Shore, curved and continued on for about a mile or so. Towards his first loop, he heard what sounded like a form of communication between two people. The Guardian crouched down. Trying to slow his breathing down and focus primarily on the sounds he had just heard. He listened for a second… chittering. These individuals were most definitely Fallen. The Titan looked around to see where the sounds were coming from. He pinpointed their location, as he moved closer to the sounds more of the area started appearing out of the fog. The Fallen seemed to be behind a structure, a building of some sort. Michael slowly crouch-walked up to the wall, taking cover behind it, he looked around the corner. He could make out 4 shapes. To him it looked like a Vandal, and two Dregs. The fourth shape was a Guardian, dead on the ground. The Vandal dug his blade out of the Guardian's chest and sheathing it. Michael shook his head and sighed quietly. Michael readied his Cydonia for battle.

He peeked around the corner again. All that was behind were the two Dregs… The Vandal must have run off. Michael cornered his cover sticking up his weapon, aiming directly one of the threats back. Just as he began to pull his trigger, a figure emerged from the fog to his left. The Vandal, which had apparently not run off, raised his blade and swung at the Titan. Michael brought up his Cydonia to block, knocking it out of his hand and making a very loud cling. The sound alerted the Vandal's other two allies. Luckily, they were not loaded with Shock Pistols, or else that would have been the end of the Guardian. Instead, they were equipped with daggers. Michael backed up. He was not in a good position, that much was very clear.

"Dammit…" He said under his breath. The three hostiles approached Michael. He had to figure out a way to kill them all and not get annihilated at the same time. His Cydonia was too far away, and he didn't have a secondary weapon. If he ran up for a punch, he would get to close, and he would get attacked but the other enemies. His only option was to let it play out. One of the Dregs started to approach Michael. The Titan put up his fists in a position to fight. The Dreg swung his dagger at him. Instead of going for a risky block, Michael dodged to the left and let the Dreg's swing play out. The Dreg's momentum propelled him forward, and his dagger fell into the cold ground. The mud slowly froze the dagger, and it got stuck into the grass. Michael saw a chance and took it, he pushed the Dreg away- who was trying to pry his dagger out of the ground- and used all of his strength to grab the dagger himself. Luckily, being a Titan meant he had an immense amount of capabilities in terms of physical applications. Michael readied the dagger to fight back, although the Dreg had retreated to his friends. Michael took a risk. He flipped the dagger over to where the blade was in his palm. He arched his arm back, and then threw it at the Dreg which he had just encountered. The knife went straight into the Dreg's neck, sticking out of it like a nail on a wooden board. The Dreg grabbed for his throat with his hands, blood pouring out of his wounds. The Dreg fell to his knees, hit the ground, and then died.

His two allies looked down at their fallen comrade. They both were stunned for a second. Michael saw an opening and took it. The Guardian rushed forward, pushed the Vandal away with all his might, and then proceeded to attack the other Dreg. He rushed at the Fallen, and tackled him as hard as he could. Both fell to the ground, the Dreg's dagger was knocked away. Both of the individuals quickly came to the realization of whoever grabbed the weapon would have the upper-hand. Michael and the Dreg both crawled towards it. A scuffle broke out, in the midst of it one managed to grab the dagger. Shk. The Guardian sunk the dagger straight into the head of the Dreg. Michael took a sigh of relief, although another instance was just about to begin. The Vandal, which he had forgotten about, grabbed Michael by the shoulder. The Vandal brought the sword up to his neck without hesitation. Just about when he was going to slice Michael's neck clean open, a shot came out of nowhere. The Vandal's blood splattered Michael's body, and the Vandal's body hit the ground with a heavy thud. The Guardian rubbed the left side of his neck which was slightly bleed from the Vandal's sword. Michael fell back and sat down, processing the encounter that just happened.

"Little too close from comfort there, mate?" A voice said, with a very strong British accent. Michael looked around. In front of him stood a Warlock, with a smoking Mos Ganon III in his hand. Michael shook his head.

"Very close." He replied. The Warlock reached a hand out, and helped Michael up.

"Good thing I intervened." The other Guardian said, "or else your blood would be painting the area red." Michael nodded as he looked behind him. Three dead Fallen, less to deal with in the future he thought. Fallen blood painted the ground as if an artist took his hand which was covered in paint and threw it against a canvas, with the occasional drop of red blood. The Warlock looked around as well.

"At least you got two of the buggars." He said.

"Yeah," Michael replied coldly. "at least."