They were everywhere…

The Hunter dumped another spent cartridge out of the open cylinder and reached for fresh one; only to slap at an empty pouch. Another volley of arc bolts chipped away at his cover, shards of moon rock peppering the stony wall that rose behind him. In desperation, he reached for the pouch he stored his ammo synthesis in, but grimaced beneath his helmet at the folly of the action. After all, who the hell brings primary ammo synth on a standard patrol?

The familiar digital distortion–like audible glitter–flickered in his ear and was immediately followed by the frustratingly serene voice of his Ghost. “I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea,” it said.

The Hunter rolled his eyes and hazarded a peek around the side of his cover. It didn’t take them long to see him and send a hail of blue energy into the dust and stone around his head, but it was long enough to see he was screwed. There were at least fifteen of the ugly bastards standing in the open and raining death on his position, but he knew that meant there were at least five more that he couldn’t see, recharging their weapons.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” he said to his Ghost. “I mean, at least it’s just Acolytes, right? They don’t even have a Knight.”

“Wizard,” said his Ghost.

“Right, or a Wizard.”

“No,” his Ghost corrected. “I’m saying they have a Wizard. She must have been hanging back until we were cornered.”

The Hunter mumbled the words he knew were coming under his breath. “Which we are.”

“Which we are,” his Ghost said, almost in synch and oblivious to the Hunter’s sarcasm. Or simply choosing to ignore it, he could never tell which.

The Hunter slapped the cylinder closed and returned his favorite hand cannon to its place on his hip and reached for the sniper rifle on his back. He smiled as he looked down at the weapon, dropping the oversized magazine and peering down the length of it. He hadn’t used it yet this trip, but he hadn’t planned on needing it, either. So the magazine was full, but it was one of only a few he was carrying.

He slapped the magazine home once more and chambered a round. “Guess I better make these count, eh?”

“That would be wise,” his Ghost replied. “If I remember right, you are carrying five magazines with six rounds each. Provided you land a killshot with each round…” There was a flicker of that digital signature as the Ghost thought about something before continuing. “Or, more likely, simply hit them, that is still putting us on the dangerous end of steep odds.”

The Hunter readied the rifle and slid his legs beneath himself, focusing his Light to charge his Stalker camouflage. Sighing, he said, “Remind me to talk to the Traveler about your bedside manner.”

“I’m not sure how you–”

The Hunter didn’t bother letting his Ghost finish as his Stalker camo activated, bending light around him and rendering him nearly invisible. He rose quickly and took aim on his first target. The Acolyte wasn’t all that far away so the rifle’s scope was filled completely by the pale, bonelike face and glowing green orbs of its eyes. The Hunter didn’t hesitate–at this range he was sure to land a hit, regardless of what that little ball said–and squeezed the trigger with a smile. The rifle barked with its crisp voice and the Acolyte’s head snapped back suddenly then the whole thing exploded into glowing ash in that creepy way that they do. Before the shot even had a chance to echo off the cliff faces that surrounded them, the Hunter had chambered a new round and drawn a bead on his next target.

Crack! Another Acolyte exploded.

Crack! Another.

Crack! One more.

With a static pop, his Stalker camo’s charge expired and he was suddenly visible to every Hive eye in the strange natural courtyard before him. Seemingly as one, they turned those glowing eyes on him and opened fire once more. This time the Wizard added her own supernatural energy to the mix, her unholy screech rising above the din of the arc weapons.

“I think I got their attention,” laughed the Hunter as he dropped to his haunches behind the stone once more.

“You’re on fire,” his Ghost said.

“I know, right? That was four headshots before my Stalker gave out.”

“No, you are on fire.”

The Hunter’s heads up display suddenly lit up, as if on cue, reporting a slow drain on his energy shields and a spike in temperature in his helmet. Cursing, he reached up and frantically slapped at the hood of his cloak, which must have been grazed by one of the Wizard’s energy blasts and caught fire. He quickly extinguished the flame with no lasting damage to his helmet, but could not say the same for his cloak.

“Aw, man,” he complained. “It took me three months to save up the marks for this cloak!”

“Personally,” chimed his Ghost, “I didn’t see the tactical advantage of a white and gold cloak. Then again, I’ve never been one for fashion, such as it is with Guardians.”

“Oh, shut up, you.”

By now the Hunter’s Stalker had recharged and was ready to use. He focused once more, readied his rifle, and popped back out of cover as soon as it activated; this time going low on the right side. Within a heartbeat he found his next target and put a round between its lowermost eyes. Finding his next target proved a bit more difficult this time, as they had grown wise to his plan and taken cover themselves; most likely at the urging of the Wizard. He did find one, though, its scab-like husk just visible behind a gray rock, and wasted no time squeezing off the last round in the magazine. However, the shot was an odd angle and the round caught the Acolyte high in the shoulder, snapping off the twisted brown spike of its armor but not delivering a killing blow. Cursing under his breath again, the Hunter moved to return to cover before his Stalker gave out once more.

“Move, Guardian!”

His Ghost’s warning came a fraction of a second before a massive ball of void energy slammed into the ground where his head had just been. The explosion of deadly purple fire sent him crashing back into the cliff face behind him and all but drained his shields, but had missed its mark just enough to keep from killing him. The same couldn’t be said for his rifle, which now lay in a crater, reduced to so much smoking slag.

“Are you okay, Guardian,” his Ghost asked, materializing before him, its little digital eye flicking back and forth, as if trying to physically locate his Light.

The Hunter’s vision cleared and he silenced the warning alarm for his shields. He looked up at his Ghost and gave a single nod before painfully crawling back behind his rock and pressing his back to it. He could taste blood in his mouth and was fairly certain more than one rib was broken.

“What the hell was that,” he asked once his shields stopped flashing and began to recharge. “I’ve never seen a Wizard shoot anything that large and I spec’d enough to take a direct hit from a Knight’s boomer without taking that kind of kick to the head.”

Then he heard it. A deep, unnatural roar filled with as much pain as there was rage cut through and seemed to fill their little battleground. The roar died off and was replaced by the dull thwump of something very heavy moving toward them. The Hunter felt the ground rumble beneath him and every muscle in his body tensed as he realized what was coming.

“Aw, shit,” he barked. “Is that what I think it is? Please tell me it’s not what I think it–”

“It’s an Ogre,” his Ghost blurted.

“Aw, shit!”

“Can you Bladedance? That might get you far enough to–”

“Nope. That void blast rattled my skull something fierce. Lost my focus and can’t recharge fast enough now.”

His headset filled with the audible glitter of his Ghost processing something. “Guardian,” it said with a sullen dip in its voice, “I won’t be able to resurrect you here with a Wizard and an Ogre this close and, regretfully, I do not posses the Light it would require to recall your body to a new location from this deep in a fissure.”

The Hunter gave his Ghost a dismissing wave and said, “That’s okay, pal. I already owe you more lives than a cat, so we’re cool.”

The Ghost hovered in close enough for the Hunter to hear the clicks and whirs of whatever machinery was beneath its orange and black shell. “Is there anything you would like me to tell the Vanguard?”

“Nah,” the Hunter said, then laughed. “Wait, on second thought, tell Cayde he’s full of–”

“Music,” his Ghost interrupted.

The Hunter shook his head, confused and annoyed. “What? No, not music, you glorified gobstopper!”

It was useless, though. His Ghost had stopped focusing on him and was looking up toward the top of the cliff. “Can’t you hear that?” it asked.

“Hear what? All I hear is the sound of my death creeping up behind us.”

Then he did hear it. His headset clicked and his helmet was suddenly filled with a cacophony of pounding drums and screeching guitars. Cursing again, he cut the audio feed and sighed in relief as the music was replaced by ringing in his ears. Only, after a moment, he realized that the ringing wasn’t ringing at all, but a steadily climbing whine. And it wasn’t coming from inside his ears, it was coming from the top of the cliff.

“That’s a sparrow,” he said out loud.

Quickly, he reopened his communications channel; albeit, with a lowered volume this time. Once again, the music filled his helmet.

“I don’t know who you are,” he said into the channel. “But I’m a Guardian of the Tower and I could use a little help.”

A man’s voice replied. “I kind of figured.”

“Well that’s not…”

But he never got to finish his sentence as the other man suddenly belted a long and loud battle cry.

“Gjaaaallaaaar–”

The steady whine of the sparrow’s engines spiked suddenly and the Hunter’s attention was drawn to the top of the cliff where he was shocked to see the sparrow itself launch over the edge of the cliff, sending rider and hoverbike alike soaring over the Hunter and the pack of Hive behind him. Just as the sparrow reached the apex of its jump, the rider kicked off, sending the vehicle flying away from him. The Hunter mumbled yet another curse under his breath as the rider came into view and he could see that it was a Titan.

A Titan wielding a very large and weirdly extravagant rocket launcher.

“–HOOOOORN!” The Titan’s battlecry reached a crescendo and was punctuated by the unmistakable fwoomp of a rocket leaving the tube.

As the projectile’s thrust kicked in and propelled it with deadly purpose toward the center of the group of stunned Hive, the Titan replaced the launcher on his back with an odd sort of delicacy. He then did something that the Hunter had seen a Titan do on more than one occasion and Hunter and Ghost peered around the side of the rock and awaited the inevitable.

“Wanna see something awesome, baby Hunter,” the Titan asked.

“Hey, now. That’s not really…”

Once again, the Hunter’s sentence was cut short by a screaming Titan.

“Heads up motherfuckers!”

The Hunter watched in awe as the Titan demonstrated his Vanguard class’s penchant for crazy. His back arched and his fists raised back over his head, the Titan’s body suddenly crackled with Arc energy and began to plummet to the ground. It was then that the Hunter began to see the genius behind the crazy and he watched the rocket blaze directly into Ogre’s massive eyeless face and explode in a blazing orange fireball. The Ogre reeled back, huge chunks of its twisted flesh flying free and painting the rocks and ground around it in gore. The Ogre gave a mighty roar that was answered by the rocket’s initial explosion giving birth to a handful of smaller projectiles which cried out with a mechanical whine as they arced outward then immediately turn back in on the stumbling Ogre. Each of the smaller projectiles found a home and detonated with a series of smaller explosions that finished the hulking beast off.

Having guessed the rocket’s target, the rest of the Hive had hastily scrambled away from the Ogre; and therein lied the crux of the Titan’s plan. Not only had all the Acolytes hurried away from the dying Ogre, but they had made the mistake of doing so as a group, bunching up in the open space between the Hunter and the Ogre. So it was there that they met their end as the Titan, channeling his Light into an attack they pretentiously called Fist of Havoc, slammed into the ground amongst them. With an excited exclamation that peaked above the audible range of the Hunter’s communications system, the Titan discharged the Arc energy in a blast that swept out from him in a radial explosion and sent the Acolytes flying in all directions. The Acolytes that had been nearest him when he landed were vaporized instantly, while those on the outer rim of the group were sent ragdolling into the dust and rock around them with enough force to kill or otherwise render them unable to fight. Either way, the Titan’s flashy entrance had wiped out nearly all of the Hive that had been there seconds before. After a moment–which the Hunter was sure was meant to be a dramatic pause–the Titan rose slowly and turned his heavy helmet toward the Hunter, smoke and dust swirling in the thin air around him.

The Hunter’s comm filled with laughter. “See,” the Titan said, “that’s how you make an entrance!”

Before the Hunter could reply, the Wizard gave a screech and floated out from behind a large rock behind the Titan and let loose with her energy blasts. The first of the bolts splashed into the Titan’s upper back, causing his personal shields to flair. The subsequent shots missed their mark, however, as the Titan used the first bolt’s impact to throw himself into a shoulder roll.

“Oh, hell no,” the Titan yelled as he darted forward, his armored boots kicking up dust as he sprinted directly at the Wizard.

The Wizard cried out in anger and unleashed a fresh volley of deadly energy but the Titan managed to stay ahead of her aim. Closing the distance between them with a speed not common to his peers, the Titan was on the Wizard in a matter of seconds. When there was only a handful of yards between them the Titan used his forward momentum to his advantage and threw himself into a power slide that carried him directly beneath the floating Wizard. As he passed under her, the Titan reached up and grabbed a handful of the Wizard’s tattered robes and held on tight as he rose to his feet behind her. Taking the robe in both hands and squaring up in the same fluid motion, the Titan yanked downward with all his considerable strength.

“Sit down,” he yelled as she crashed bodily into the dust.

The Wizard screamed with all she was worth and tried to turn and shoot at her assailant again. But it was too late, the Titan simply swatted her hands aside, grabbed the robes beneath her head and heaved her upward with a jerk. Then, with an exclamation about how ugly she was, the Titan slammed his fist into her face with enough force to shatter her skull and send her exploding into ash and back to whatever hell the Hive crawled out of.

“That is so gross,” said the Titan, opening his hand and allowing the bits of cloth that he still clung to drop to the ground.

Another screech cut through the air and a remaining Acolyte jumped out from behind cover and opened fire on the Titan. With a laugh, the Titan sidestepped the attack and pulled a heavily customized rifle, with a splatter of blood-red paint and an oversized serrated blade affixed to the barrel, from his back. He leveled the rifle with an almost bored motion and pulled the trigger once, sending a burst of slugs into the Acolyte, which climbed its face from chin to center eye. As the Acolyte’s body twitched and exploded into ash, the Titan held the gun up and made a show of looking around.

“Anyone else got something to say,” he shouted into the air, then waited a moment for another Acolyte to step out and take a shot at him. When nothing happened, he nodded once and returned the rifle to its place beside the launcher on his back. “I didn’t think so!”

A few seconds of silence hung in the air before the Hunter’s Ghost rotated the silver orb of its body beneath its shell to look at him. A second later, the Ghost’s voice filtered through his helmet speakers. “It would seem we’ve been saved, Guardian.”

The Hunter answered by reaching up and shoving the floating automaton out of his way and stepping out from behind his rock. He moved across the clearing toward the approaching Titan.

“I gotta be honest, man,” he said as they neared one another, “that was pretty awesome.”

“Yeah,” the Titan said, nodding as if only just now realizing how impressive his antics had been, “it kinda was, huh?”

The Titan’s arrogance was almost absent-minded in its delivery, as if he wasn’t even aware he was being arrogant but, rather, just relaying things as he understood them. The whole thing was surprisingly disarming and the Hunter couldn’t help but smile as he extended his hand and introduced himself.

“I’m Neomyn. Thanks for the save.”

There was no hesitation in the Titan as he reached out and grasped Neomyn’s hand with his own. “Name’s Harkonan,” he said. “Friend’s call me Hark.”

Most Guardians couldn’t remember who they had been before their Ghosts reignited their Light and, thus, chose their own names. Neomyn’s name had been the first word that had come to his mind whenever he thought about who he was and so it had stuck. It seemed that the Titan before him had, likewise, chosen his name himself; this one from a pre-Golden Age story. As names went, it was surprisingly fitting.

“Well, Hark,” the Hunter said, opting to chance considering this walking tank a new-found friend, “I was on a scouting patrol for the Hunter Vanguard, but I think it’s safe to say that there is Hive activity in this region, so I’m going to head back to the Tower. I’ve got a few broken ribs, a probable concussion and…”

He trailed off as he gave a glance back over his shoulder to listfully stare at the still-smoking ruins of his sniper rifle.

With a sigh, he continued, “I also seem to be in the market for a new sniper rifle.”

“Cool, man,” said Hark with an enthusiasm Neomyn didn’t expect, “I’ve gotta turn in some bounties, anyway. I’ll follow you back, make sure you don’t lose consciousness or something from the bump on your dome. You can buy me a drink in the hangar lounge!”

There was that absent-minded arrogance again. Neomyn smiled beneath his helmet and nodded gingerly, trying not to wince as his helmet rubbed the growing knot on the back of his skull. “Yeah,” he said instead, “why not? Seems the least I can do for saving my ass.”

“What, this,” Hark asked, holding out both hands to indicate the destruction he had only just delivered. He then gave a dismissive wave and laughed. “Naaaah. I was in the area and can never pass up an opportunity to show up a Hunter.”

“Wait, what? That’s not exactly…”

Once more, Neomyn’s complaint was cut short as Hark let loose a hearty laugh and slapped the Hunter on the shoulder before starting his way to where his sparrow had come down. “I’m just fuckin’ with ya,” he said between guffaws. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, if you’re gonna roll with me, Baby Hunter!”

Neomyn watched the Titan saunter away and could only shake his head. After a moment, his Ghost hovered into view and rotated so that he was looking directly at Neomyn.

“I like him,” said the Ghost.

Neomyn sighed and followed after Hark. “Oh, just call the ship, would you?”

“Right away, Guardian.”

With a final burst of digital glitter, the Ghost dematerialized and set to the task he’d been given. Neomyn continued following Hark, his broken ribs singing a painful melody with every step. He had wandered into a Hive nest and taken a serious beating for it. He’d lost a sniper rifle and ruined his favorite cloak. And all while coming a hair’s breadth from dying and irreversible death. But above all, he’d been saved…by a Titan.

Cayde-6 was never going to let him live this down.

“Yeah,” he mumbled under his breath, “I’m gonna need that drink.”

To Be Continued…