The storm was beginning to ease up as I stepped out of the Vanguard chambers. I walked over to Master Rahool.

"Ah, Ace," he said warmly. "Is this a social call, or a business one?"

"Business, Master Rahool."

He nodded. "I suspected as much. What can I do for you? Decoding? Deciphering? A history lesson perhaps?"

I chuckled. "I need to decode this engram. Looks like a good one."

With that, I tossed him the golden-yellow orb that I had picked up on the moon. He inspected it carefully, humming a tune that I didn't recognise. It sounded vaguely like He then placed in on a circular machine, and the engram disappeared. In it's place was a silver-grey helmet, with a sleek, curved appearance.

"Ah, the Celestial Nighthawk. This is a very rare find, Ace. Would you perhaps be interested in swapping it for one of these…"

He paused suddenly, his face turning pale. I turned around to find Cayde standing there. He smiled at me and then said one thing to Rahool.

"Doorknobs,"

Rahool hurriedly handed the helmet to me and busied himself with "his accounts for the year". Cayde walked towards the hangar, gesturing for me to follow. I followed him into the corridor connecting to the hangar itself, both of us stopping beside a stack of crates. He sat on one of the large containers, and patted the spot beside him. I hopped up, curious.

"Ace…was I ever a good father?"

I started. "Of course! Why would you say…oh. Your memory wipes…"

He nodded. "Whenever Exo get reset, we lose our experiences up till that point. The Clovis Bray guys must have intended it as a literal 'reset to factory default' button. It doesn't wipe everything mind you. We keep our motor skills, language skills, everything that allows us to essentially be…well…people. But it leaves our memories in tatters. Imagine…imagine a photo. You keep it in a frame on a shelf. But then, BAM! You knock it off, and it falls onto a knife…"

I frown. "Where did the knife in this metaphor come from?"

Cayde shushed me. "Be quiet. Anyway, the knife tears up the photo something bad. Just like if you dropped it into one of those shredder things. Then, a wind blows the photo to the wind, leaving you with just a tattered strip of a photo."

He paused as three tower personnel walked past, saluting as they passed. Cayde saluted back, and then waited for them to walk around the corner before continuing. He seemed diminished now, almost like his usual sarcastic humour was being held back in some way.

"I managed to keep a shred of my memory each of the six times I was reset. Three were before the Collapse, while I was simply a tool for the military to use. Once was done by some fellow Guardians when I was damaged in battle, and would've died otherwise. The other two I apparently did to myself, either due to despair, or possibly due to a painful memory that I thankfully don't recall anymore…If it was ever a thing at all."

Cayde looked right at me. "That shred was a name: Ace. It was the only thing that I knew at first, after waking up. I knew vaguely that you were important to me. I didn't know who you were, I just knew you were important."

He sighed. "For the best part of twenty years, I took every opportunity to scour the world for any trace of my old life, and to find out who you were. I found evidence that you were my child. I don't recall what the evidence was, but it's in my journal:"

He pulled out a thick pocket journal from a belt pouch. The book was old, with yellowed pages, and looked as if it had been 'upgraded' with extra pages over the years (judging from the fact that there were pages that were at least a inch larger than the paper in the first half of the notebook near the back). It was bound in grey leather, and was badly scuffed and worn. The cover was embossed with a simple 'Ace of Spades' symbol, and had obviously detached from the spine and rear cover at some point. I admired how someone (probably Cayde's Ghost) had affixed the damaged cover to the front with a pair of delicate spinmetal hinges that were attached to the spine with some kind of solder. I decided to ask Cayde about it at another time.

"This journal," said Cayde solemnly. "Is how I kept track of all my memories involving you. It was initially a record book, where I jotted down some of those random thoughts that came my way. Y'know, stuff like 'Who is Ace?', 'Why are they so important to me?', and 'Where can I get a decent gelato in the Last City?'."

I snorted at the last 'thought', and rolled my eyes. "Just like you to be thinking about ice-cream over your only child!"

Cayde laughed, and seemed to regain some of his old spirit in that moment. It was gone again when he spoke next. "I eventually started writing letters to you. This book, it has thousands of letters from addressed to you. It's been through the wars…but so have I. Now, I'm giving them to you."

He handed the book to me, his metal fingers leaving a few additional scuffs on the cover as his fingers scraped off the leather. "You don't have to read it if you don't want. But…I'd appreciate you doing it son."

I smiled. "Thanks…Dad."

I walked into the hangar, carrying the notebook in a belt pouch. I was newly garbed in a suit of Rusburner 1.5 armour, with the gloves replaced with a pair of Raku Vindicator gauntlets I had purchased off the tower armourwright. I wore my new helmet proudly, the surface dulled to a matt grey, and painted with a two-tone camouflage suited for the moon's surface. The paintjob had been replicated across the rest of my armour and equipment, courtesy of my Ghost. Overall, I looked like a badass. Or at least, I looked as badass as I could without sacrificing form for function. The last think Cayde had advised me on before we finished our father-son talk was about good technique for being a Hunter.

"Always make sure your gear is in good shape," he had said. "We hunters spend long spans of time away from the Tower, and thus it's always good to have some field maintenance equipment on hand. In addition, make sure you keep your armour dulled. Reflections are always a bad idea when you're trying to stay hidden. Also, keep your armour toned to the immediate environment you're travelling in. For that matter, ask your Ghost about some digital paint. It's that stuff that you can program the tone of. You know the stuff?"

I had smiled, and laughed a bit. "Yeah, I remember that stuff. You got pissed when I covered your jumpship in the stuff, and programmed it for a bright pink colour. It took weeks to wash it off, and you didn't stop glaring at me for a whole month."

Back in the present, I grinned under my helmet at the memory. I shook my head, and continued walking through the hangar, descending the stairs to the hangar bay proper. Ahead of me was a group of Guardians loitering near my Jumpship. I walked over and cleared my throat.

"So…you're Cayde's son," said one of them, a female Hunter wearing a suit of white/red armour. "Name's Anna Rist. I'm the leader of this motely band."

A hulking character wearing a suit of reflective silver armour spoke up in a Germanic accent. "Ha! This omen bodes well for us! We have the child of the esteemed Vanguard hunter coming along for the ride!"

"That's Gem Henkel, one of the top Crucible contestants," Ghost whispered over my commlink. "He's currently one of the top-choices for the title of the next Crucible Master after Lord Shaxx eventually falls"

The slender female Hunter next to him punched him in the shoulder, and turned to me. "Sorry about Gem, Ace. He's just a little to eager. Name's Rena Solace, I'm Arthur's sister. Or, I was before the collapse. He's said good things about you."

I nodded at the three of them, and turned to the fourth guardian, a male Warlock who had been quiet for the entire time I had been present. "…And this chatty gentleman here is…?"

Anna chuckled. "That's Grim. He's kinda the quiet type, so when he speaks, just don't act all surprised. He gets that a lot."

The warlock cocked his helmet, but didn't bother responding.

"Right, so…we have a gameplan?" I asked nervously, feeling vaguely unsettled by how easily these four Guardians interacted with each other.

"Ha!" cried Gem. "A tactician at heart! Well my small friend, our plan is simply…"

"Attack!" they all cried together, with the exception of Grim. I stepped backwards slightly towards my Jumpship.

"Well…err…I'll do my best to…guide…you…does anyone else feel uncomfortable here?"

The other Guardians chortled slightly, and shook their heads. I turned away muttering to myself.

"Guess it's just me then."

Author's Note: Well, here's Chapter 12, a lot quicker than the last one! Thanks to all my readers by the way. I got a interesting review the other day about whether I have a plan for this story. I can say that I do, but I won't spoil it for anyone. It's changed slightly, with the release of the new DLC for Destiny 2, but I can say that Cayde's death in the second game will be changed slightly, or even possibly avoided. Right now, I'm kinda undecided on that, but give me a while. Like many, I thought it was kinda sad that they killed off one of the most popular characters in the canon, but meh. I'm not going to make Cayde go out in such a stupid and meaningless way, otherwise I'd have to hang up my hat as a fanfic writer. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has continued to follow this story, and please: read and review more. I'm always looking to improve my work.