Destiny: A Bond In The Void
By Sean D. Cushing and Darren R. Grafius
“Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid, one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.”
-Douglas MacArthur
Part 1: Close Combat Encounters.
Chapter 1
Allen
“Attention, Guardians entering the Tower.”
Allen’s visor filled with the crackle of the announcer, giving returning guardians an odd sense of happiness. Another battle fought and won, and with little to no loss. His fur sweltered under the metallic covers of his armor, but he kept it on, waiting on a notification from his ghost.
“Nothing new, yet,” the unusual device bleated out, staticy and full of technical errors. “Good,” Allens smooth and deep voice replied, “Alert me if the tower picks up a distress response. I’ll be checking the bounty board.” His tail shook and snaked free of the armor slot he stored it in, and it dripped with sweat. He sighed and opened the vents on his helmet and sweet air flooded and cooled his furry face. He approached the tower bounty master, and nodded at the robot.
“What’s new, Xander?” The robot in question nodded. “Downloading new bounties, Guardian, Just a moment.” A new notification appeared on Allens hud, showing several bounties focused on the area around First Light Substation. He nodded at the robot again in thanks and smiled behind his mask.
“These’ll do.” He said, “Thanks.” He contacted his ghost and within a moment beamed off to orbit. In the atmosphere over earth, he marveled at the planet, and gave a small prayer to the traveler that he would return again. “Okay, Let’s head to First Light, ghost.” The autopilot engaged from the ghosts control and within a moment, the earth was lost to slipspace travel.
Doran
Elsewhere, far from the safety and light of the Tower, a solitary jump-ship drifted in low orbit over Mars. Its systems were powered down, the cabin dark and the computers in standby as they waited for commands. Those commands came as the consciousness of a Ghost slipped in amidst the systems by remote, and over several moments the reactor span up, the cockpit lights flickered on, and the life support system came out of standby to refresh the stagnant air of the cabin. A moment later the air shimmered as the ship’s transmat system deposited a Warlock in the cabin, who promptly settled back into the pilot’s chair with a sigh.
The red dust of Mars was ground into the seams and scuffs of the battered long coat he wore over his environmental suit. It caked the treads of his boots and formed a film over the sealed and armored hood he wore over his head. For a time he just sat back and relaxed, enjoying the peace and solitude of the cockpit, empty but for him and his Ghost that hovered silently to one side, used to the Warlock’s ritualistic moment of silence upon returning to his ship.
Finally he shook his head, reaching up with gloved hands to undo the latches and seals that bound the metal hood to the rest of his armor and then pulling it off to rest it in his lap. The head beneath the hood was that of a blue dragon, weary from combat and blinking a few times as his vision adjusted to life without the augmented optics of his environmental gear. He combed his fingers through the silvery feathers of his mane as he turned to address his Ghost. “Well. That was interesting.”
The Ghost rolled slightly to one side in the air, simulating the way a person might give a curious tilt of the head. “‘Interesting’ is an interesting term for it, Doran.”
The blue dragon chuckled softly. “There are a lot of ways to describe the feeling one gets when a quick and easy scouting mission at a Cabal comms relay station is suddenly complicated by the arrival of three dropships full of angry legionnaires and phalanxes. Many of them are rather impolite, so I’ll just stick with ‘interesting.’”
The Ghost responded with a digitized crackle that Doran had come to recognize as its closest equivalent to a chuckle. “At least we got the data. And I didn’t even have to revive you.”
“You would have if that Titan hadn’t been patrolling in the area. Thank the Light for her skill with that long rifle, gave me the breathing room we needed right when we needed it. All the same I think I’ll take the whole experience as an object lesson in why it’s nicer to drop with a proper fireteam when possible. Anyway, what’ve we got next?”
The Ghost turned toward one of the computer screens. “A few options. Commander Zavala’s put out a call to organize a strike against a Fallen base on Venus, Lord Shaxx is announcing a new tournament for the Crucible games, and the Vanguard have posted several bounties for action on the Lunar surface.”
Doran leaned forward, selecting the latter on his screen to look at the details. “Mare Cognitum. The old First Light Substation. Looks like several promising opportunities… kill order on a Fallen Captain, intelligence gathering, data retrieval from a dormant computer in the colony. Sounds like a good way to be productive. Alright then, let’s accept those. Fly me to the moon.”
The Ghost gave a chirp of acknowledgement and span up the ship’s NLS drive as Doran took the controls and pitched the ship upward, away from the Red Planet. In a few moments the course was set and the stars ahead blurred as the ship accelerated into the black, nose now pointing toward Luna.
Allen
“Okay, guardian, keep your ears up and wait for the-” even as Allen spoke, the sudden bang of a Fallen ship entering the area around the substation alerted them to the approaching foe. The random guardian he was with, a tier eight hunter who had just gotten his jump drive, shifted nervously while aiming his revolver. “Take it easy, buddy, just breath.” Allen tried to reassure the new guardian, remembering back in the older days of his first time on lunar furma.
The ships came down, emptying a fresh batch of fallen onto the lunar dust. With a deep breath, and a knock on his helmet for good luck, He charged the enemy as his ally panicked and hid behind a bolder for cover. Within sixty feet, he jumped and with a light touch of void, doubled his jump to gain more air for precision. As soon as he hit the height of his ark, he let out a pained sigh as he accessed the void once more. aiming loosely with his hands, he let out three smaller novas, each carpeting the area before him and leveling his foe to void dust.
The new guardian, what Allen would generously call a Scrub, peeked around just in time to see the latter half, and stood awestruck. The communication set in his helmet crackled before he heard, “By the Speaker! That was amazing!” Allen was thankful for the helmet he wore, it kept his smug grin off his face. “That’s nothing, kid, we’ve still got a few more ships to face.” On cue, two bangs sounded as more ships entered, keen on the data of a downed warmind.
“Backs straight, head up, and let the light shine, Guardian” He said, drawing on the words which inspired him to join the defenders of earth, “We’ve got fallen to kill!”
Doran
“There’s something going on down there. Fallen skiffs, several of them. They’re off-loading troops and I’m detecting weapons fire.”
Doran frowned and squinted at the scanner readouts on his console. They’d just dropped to normal speeds and were entering Lunar orbit above First Light, and already there seemed to be excitement going on. “Bring us down to transmat altitude and get me down there. Don’t want to miss the party.”
“On it. Twenty seconds. Loadout?”
Doran hefted his elongated helmet over his muzzle and head, tucking a couple stray feathers under the closure and then snapping it into place until he felt his environmental suit seal and pressurize. “Long rifle and support gun. Primary will be the usual, of course.” After checking all was set with his armor, the dragon quickly hefted his usual weapon of choice and gave the magazine a final check before slamming it home and cocking the gun to chamber the first round. The weapon in question was a compact bullpup scout rifle, single but rapid firing, its metallic housing painted in dark blue with silver highlights. The Warlock kept it clean and well-serviced, but the trusty rifle had been with him a while now and dust from Mars and the Moon along with soil from the jungles of Venus and several regions of Earth could be found clinging to some of the more stubborn nooks and crannies. It had once been a gift from the Vanguard, given as a reward for taking part in a campaign against a Fallen house that had been trying to make a foothold in the European Dead Zone. Since then the gun had grown with him, seeing upgrades and modifications until it had become something unique and intimately familiar to him. These days it sported near-perfect balance, a holographic targeting aid embedded in its iron sights, and the title ‘Stomper mk. IV’ hand-carved into the paintwork on side of its body.
“We’re in position. Ready to drop?”
Doran hugged the rifle to his chest, making ready to open fire as soon as he had a target to sight on. “Go.”
The cabin air shimmered as the Ghost activated the ship’s transmat system, and the Warlock was gone. In the same instant he appeared on the surface of the Moon, boots sinking into the powdery gray dust and leaving a few invasive grains of Mars there. In the next instant his rifle snapped up to his shoulder and braced there. At the bottom of the gentle ridge he’d been deposited on, a small army of Fallen were advancing toward an expanse of boulders and rubble, shock rifles firing while an additional skiff was approaching to drop off another load. Doran began to walk slowly down the slope as he sighted at the side of a Vandal’s head and squeezed the Stomper’s trigger.
Allen
This is unusual, Allen thought with a cool mind as more and more Fallen advanced, pulling out his trusty hand cannon. The slick revolver was a Crucible weapon, and well earned in the Old South contests of the American sect. An acronym for a name, as the saying was too long for a good call out, he spent his time earning the right to use it. The revolver was well aged by time, but had not lost it’s touch or skill. The Scrub he was with had ditched, which Allen didn’t mind too much, seeing as he was under armed for such combat. Still, with the Fallen closing in, despite his picking them off, it would be nice for some back up. How Ironic that I’d end up being the distressed now. He took a look behind him for a moment after reloading, seeing a small valley behind him, with little cover. “Shit,” He muttered out loud, “If the fall won’t kill me, the fallen will.”
Doran
Doran worked his way down the hill, emptying his scout rifle’s capacity into the advancing Fallen until the ground was littered with a healthy covering of Vandal and Dreg carcasses. By the time he was reaching for a new magazine, the force had certainly taken notice of him and were starting to shoot back, dividing their fire between him and whoever was shooting back from the boulders. He hadn’t managed a good look yet.
As the Warlock cocked his rifle and prepared to start a second volley, he was met with a barrage of shock fire from the Fallen. He realized right about then that there were rather more still standing than he’d anticipated.
“I think you’ve made them angry…” muttered the voice of his Ghost.
The dragon grumbled a soft curse under his breath and began to run toward the relative cover of the same boulder field his unknown companion was shooting from. “Yeah, yeah… eyes bigger than stomach, I know…” He grit his teeth as the linear round from a wire rifle impacted his shoulder, taking out the last of his shield just as he managed to dive behind a low wall of broken rock. He tucked his body low and took a few breaths while his shield recharged, slapping the scout rifle against his back to magnetically attach it to his armor for safekeeping until he needed it next. “Alright, time for the big guns then. Ghost, if you’d be so kind?”
It was a simple matter for the Ghost to interface with their ship’s transmat system and pull the heavy machine gun out of storage. The bulky weapon materialized in the Guardian’s hands, a purposeful-looking construction of high-grade steel and precision engineering wrapped in the white livery of the Dead Orbit engineers who had painstakingly constructed it some years previously. Doran’s shield returned to full charge just as he fixed the start of the ammo belt into the gun and slammed down the cover, cocking it and turning to brace the barrel on the rocks. “Right then. Let’s get loud.”
Allen
“What the hell!?” Allen looked at the tracer rounds hitting the fallen from behind, diverting half their forces to his hidden helper. “Shit, I hope you get out of this, who ever you are.” He popped a few more fallen skulls with his revolver, and with a quick signal to his ghost, pulled out a shotgun that appeared on his back, holding the revolver in one hand and the shotgun in the other. This is gonna hurt in orbit, He thought, as he emptied the first shell of buckshot into a fallen Blade Vandel. He jammed his revolver into a magnetic leg holster, and cleared off the few fallen still on his hill, before returning the shotgun to his shoulder holster and letting out a sigh. “Too damn close, this time.” He returned the revolver to his hand and continued the assault, nearly vocalizing his demand for his powers to return. A bar on his screen was slowly filling, a gauge to time his “Supers,” But it was moving painstakingly slow across the data field
“Fuck it,” He said aloud, and with another message to his ghost, his shotgun was replaced by a rocket launcher from the Dead Orbit, the double tube getting rammed shut with a loud thud. He popped from cover, aimed at a relatively large group of fallen on his side, and fired the first tube. As soon as the rocket left the launcher, he stowed the launcher, and with a touch of void, blinked towards his hidden ally.
Who ever you are, Allen thought, Get ready for a shit storm, cause I don’t think this is it yet. As Allen Touched down, the rocket detonated and leveled about ten Fallen Dregs and vandals.
Doran
Doran kept the trigger held down on the support gun until his first drum ran dry. His reserve ammo for the heavy weapon was limited so he couldn’t keep this up all day, but that first storm of bullets had done plenty to thin the advancing Dregs and Vandals. Partway through reloading he heard the boom of his companion’s rocket impact, feeling it through the ground, and grinned to himself. Sounds like our friend brought some good toys to the party, too.
As he snapped home his second and last ammo drum of machine gun ammo, a deep thud reverberated through the thin Lunar atmosphere, heralding yet another Fallen skiff snapping into the space above the battlefield. This one dropped off a pair of heavily-shielded Captains and a Servitor, one of the large, hovering black spheres of technology and ether that the Fallen revered so highly. Their plasma blasts could also pack a considerable punch. Guess the Fallen are getting serious about this too.
On the plus side, Doran hadn’t yet expended any of his Light on the super ability that was one of the most impressive weapons in the Warlock arsenal. His HUD bore the same bar as his friend’s, and his was now reading nearly full.
Sighting his support gun over his cover once more, he was about to open fire on the advancing Captains to start softening up their shields when a shimmer in the space to his left caught his attention. Just in time, too; he dropped the gun and threw himself backwards as a Vandal’s sword stabbed through the space his head had occupied an instant before.
The ones with those stealth units were tricky.
Giving a snarl of defiance, the dragon rolled to his paws and flung up his right hand at the enemy, palm open. The Traveller’s Light coursed through his body, and with practised ease he channeled it down his arm to a focal point just beyond his hand, the power coalescing and forming a microsingularity for the barest of instants, just as his hand reached the Vandal’s chest. The void magic imploded with a snap, then burned through his attacker’s body with such speed that the screech of rage did not last long. What remained of the Vandal’s body was sent drifting skyward, glowing violet as it slowly disintegrated.
A handy trick, that, if one that could only be used periodically. The energy Doran had harvested from the enhanced melee attack was enough to fully charge his energy reserves however, and those Captains were nearly on top of him. With a fury he reared up and lept into the air, hovering there a moment as he let his entire body become a conduit for the Light and the magic of the Void. Again he channeled the glowing power down his arm, gazing down at the two Captains for an instant before pointing his arm at them and employing his magic the same way Allen had before he arrived. Three orbs of angry light were flung from his fingers, impacting the ground at the Captains’ feet where they exploded, carpet-bombing the area with three separate ultra-miniaturized supernovae. The explosion was devastating enough to decimate the Captains’ shields and throw them backward, hurling up a screen of fine gray dust before them.
Doran panted with exertion as he landed back on the ground, collecting his discarded machine gun and readying it for further action in case the nova bombs hadn’t quite finished off the Captains. One could never be too sure.
Allen
Allen sprinted for all his equine worth, glad for the species he was born into having a natural talent for such a feat. He looked over his shoulder and muttered a string of curses that would make his family blush, and popped a grenade in his hand. He pulled the pin and let the charge, loaded with void energy, drop and he build up another “Blink” Jump. He turned again and nearly had a coronary as he faced the rear of three high tier Fallen captains.
He almost shouted out, when a familiar burst of void purple engulfed the foes, obliterating one with a diminished shield, and wounding the other two. Wasting no time, Allen recovered his launcher, “blinked” past them, and with his last shot in the tube, finished the Fallen off. Meanwhile, several fallen stealth vandals felt what a void grenade does to their armor, and howled in agony before being atomized.
Allen almost dived behind cover, and to his later embarrassment looking back, ran straight into the Warlock Ally. He paused long enough to take in his ally. The fellow guardian was well armed and trained, and that was just from taking a glance at the being. Allen wasn’t sure his race, but before he could ask a line rifle round lanced above their cover. He gave a curt nod, and readied his primary revolver for combat.
During all of this, a familiar voice filled his headset. “Attention all Guardians,” The voice of the speaker was crisp in his ears, speaking on all frequencies on the moon, “The Fallen are attempting a colonization of the Moon. Remain strong and hold fast! the light of our warriors will prevail!” Great timing, buddy. Allen thought cynically, Really “up to date,” huh? Meanwhile, we’re taking on the brunt of their best!
Glancing up as a particularly loud bang was heard, a Fallen ketch flew over, and a monster of a drop ship lowered down, a Spider tank below it’s belly. “Awe, fucking hell,” He said aloud, “Guess the only easy day was yesterday.” He slammed a fresh speed clip into the cylinder and raised the revolver, holographic sights melding in with his Heads Up Display.
Doran
The dragon had just been readying himself to engage whatever was left of the three Captains when he finally caught sight of his ally, and the skilled rocket that finished off the targets. Behind his visor he grinned, raising an arm in greeting as he stepped out from behind his cover and glanced around, checking his motion tracker for any remaining enemies. He was about to properly greet the fellow Guardian when he heard the Speaker’s broadcast, frowning at the concurrent appearance of the massive ketch and the inbound Walker.
“Well. Certainly keeping things lively, aren’t they?” he said into his helmet radio, on an open frequency for the other Warlock to pick up. He made a quick motion to his Ghost, who operated the transmat to replace the machine gun in his hands with a heavily built sniper rifle. “Ready for some hunting, friend?”
Allen
Allen heard the message and grinned. I’m starting to like this guy, He thought, raising a hand with a thumbs up. “Copy, big guy. Let’s sound the horn.” Slapping a fresh tube into his rocket launcher, he blinked up and took aim, using the splash of the explosion to create a small dust cloud while downing several lesser foes. “Right, on three, we split up. That tank can’t aim in two places, so we’ll divide up his fire. I’m almost charged up, a few more baddies, and I’m ready to blitz that hunk of metal. you?” He heard the Tank Drop down, and the audible tone of it charging up a round to fire.
There was a crackle and then, “Acknowledged, I’m less than half, but I’ll try to make that up. Any plan for dealing with the grunts?” Allen smiled a bit, and replied, “Have a hope they won’t try to kill their own, but that’s leaving it to chance. A better bet is relying on a slow turret turning speed and that they slow even further when aiming to shoot.”
Doran
The dragon smiled behind his visor, confident with how easily he and the other Guardian seemed to be coming together. He watched the tank from around his boulder as he gave one final check to make sure his sniper rifle had a full magazine, and nodded. “Sounds great. Dividing the tank’s fire as widely as possible seems our best bet, then we’ll hit it from both sides.” Hefting his rifle and shifting to a crouch, he made ready to run for it. “Count us off when you’re ready!”
Allen
The Equine took a breath before replying. “Okay, three, two, one, Let’s break!” Allen put his best effort into sprinting out of cover, aiming for a small crater in the middle of his path. He popped a nova grenade, and burst the small crowd of Dregs at his right, clearing his path as best he could. He panted and strained, taking only a moments glance at the tank turret to give him the extra motivation he needed. As a crimson laser slowly followed him, he dived into the first series of craters, taking a breath before popping out to fire on a few Fallen that were too close. He finished three fallen Vandals when the sound of the cannon charging up stopped him. He dived down, and a large plume of moon dust floated over him, pulled down slowly by gravity. “Shit, that was close. You doing okay, buddy?”
He didn’t wait for a reply, and instead began running to another crater, sliding into it and popping out only to return fire to the thinning fallen on foot. Line Rifle rounds and ark burn charges screamed overhead as he quickly returned fire, the distinct sound of a revolver firing back.
Doran
Doran made a break for it at Allen’s signal, running in the opposite direction. Cover was sparse, but a few boulders and small craters were scattered about and would hopefully be enough. He paused in a shallow crater when he saw the tank tracking his companion, ignoring him for the moment.
“All right then, here’s something else to think about…” he muttered to himself as he braced his rifle against the rim of the crater and took aim at one of the Walker’s legs. The sniper rifle was a bit of a rarity; a bright red length of heavily reinforced machinery originally designed for use against armor and materiel, so rather perfect for the current occasion. Of course, the unusually high-calibre rounds tended to have rather satisfying results against soft targets, too. The Warlock had affectionately named the rifle ‘Bloodhammer.’
The rifle cracked like thunder three times as Doran slammed round after round into the tank’s forward left leg, trying to blast through the heavy plating and jam up one of the joints. If he could confound the tank’s movement it would give his new friend a bit more breathing room.
Allen
Allen dodged a lightning grenade headed his way when he heard the rifle rounds. He peered over the lip of the crater and saw where the rounds landed and smiled. “Good on ya, Man. Keep at it!” Allen called through the radio. Not to be outdone, Allen fished out the final tube for his rocket launcher, half filled, and fired the last round to the back leg of the tank.
With a satisfying Thump, the missile rammed into the back leg. With the damage the sniper rifle did along with the resulting explosion, the tanks back legs gave out, causing a small dust cloud to form around the tank. In the midst of that, the tanks engine became exposed as it routed power to restore leg functionality. Allen took this time to lob a grenade at the exposed engine and add a few of his revolver rounds to the engine block.
Doran
Damaging that exposed engine block was the key to taking out one of these beasts, so Doran worked quickly to slam in a fresh magazine and line up his next shots. Pacing them as quickly as he could, he fired five rounds into the engine core one after the other, each shell penetrating deeply and making shrapnel of the machinery. Fire and lightning arced out of the tank as it underwent a hard reset and began to retract its core to safety, but between Doran’s rifle rounds and Allen’s grenade and revolver shots the great machine was beginning to shudder.
Allen
Allen grinned as he started seeing a small bit of smoke rise from the machines exhaust pipes. However, that grin was quickly killed as the turret revolved around to am at Doran. “Shit, get down, man!” Allen yelled over the microphone. He tried to fire a few shots at the tank, but it seemed to have more interest in the dragon over the horse.
Allen then took a risk. He asked his ghost to do a visual scan to see how much strength the tank had left in it. The robot replied with a crackle, “About halfway dead, it seems. What are you planning?” Allen grinned and said a small prayer to the Traveler. He then said, “I’m planning on popping that can open!” He then rushed out of his crater, sprinting as fast as he could.
Allen hoped what he had in mind would be enough, but just in case he asked his ghost to pop a heavy ammo synthesis. He grinned as his rocket counter went back up to five shots, and when he slid into an impact crater closer to the tank, reloaded his rocket launcher before continuing to run. When he got close enough to the tank, he jumped, and then “Blinked,” Getting as high as he could over the machine. When he reached the top of his jump, he unleashed his held nova bomb, three smaller projectiles carpeting the machine as best he could. The tank buckled and groaned as it took the impact of the explosive void bombs, the front legs giving out and the armor on them shattering in the process. Allen would have fired his rockets as well, but he was too close to risk the explosion. With a second, weaker “Blink,” He moved out of the way of the tank, and out of a good firing spot. “Buddy!” He yelled over the headset, “If you’ve got something, use it now!”
Doran
Doran paled slightly beneath his helmet as he saw the tank’s targeting laser lock on to him, frantically scrambling for cover and realizing the shallow crater near him was the only thing close by, and it wasn’t enough to shield him from a blast from that main gun. He began to run as fast as he could, moving sideways to the tank and blinking himself at every opportunity to try and stay ahead of the targeting beam. “If there’s anything you can do to keep that thing off me I’d be greatly apprec-” he began into the radio. The blast cut him off, thundering into the ground an instant after his boots left the space. The shell erupted with him in mid-jump, just as he blinked away from the point of impact.
The blink gave him the distance he needed to avoid the worst of the blast, but it still hit him like a train from behind and flung him forward. With a grunt he plowed into the gray dust several yards ahead of where he last left the ground, his shields completely depleted and his armor slightly charred. But he was still breathing.
He shook his head to try and dislodge the ringing in his ears, blinking a few times. His hearing began to clear just in time to catch the tail end of Allen’s plea over his headset. His vision snapped to a corner of his HUD, and spotted that his Light had just finished recharging despite his near-death. Grinning, he planted his boots on the ground and channeled that Light into a concentrated sphere of void energy in the palm of his hand, then mirrored his companion’s attack by hurling a trident of nova bombs at the tank’s side closest to him. “You aren’t the only thing out here with heavy artillery, you metal bastard…”
The three orbs impacted the tank’s side heavily, collapsing into a trio of microsingularities. The implosions rocked the metal beast, buckling two of the legs and shredding the core machinery. The tank had already taken enough of a battering that its systems were struggling, and this final attack was enough to push it over the edge.
A warning alarm echoed from the machine as it slumped to the ground, sparks and arc lightning pouring from the separations in the armored plates as a chain reaction sent the internal systems into overload. The dragon relaxed and grinned as he watched, having fought enough Fallen walkers to recognize the signs. With a final metallic groan, the tank listed to one side and buried its head into the lunar dust, then erupted in a blinding flash as the reactor detonated.
The dragon casually walked toward the shattered wreckage of the tank, unconcerned by the small bits of debris the explosion hurled toward him. In the low gravity of the moon they fell lazily back to the ground, easy enough to sidestep or let his shield deflect. Only a few Fallen infantry remained, and Doran took a certain amount of grim satisfaction from the simple task of finishing them off with his heavy sniper rifle.
When he reached the tank’s corpse he hopped up to perch atop it triumphantly, looking rather pleased with himself and glancing around for his companion. They’d both earned a small celebration, he thought, not to mention the chance to properly meet one another finally.
Allen
Allen stepped carefully through the carnage, the dead fallen and machine parts that separated him from his warlock ally a grim reminder of their victory. In the ear piece, he overheard the speakers voice again. “Guardians, the fallen are on the retreat! We have word that several teams of our warriors have driven their attacks off the Lunar surface.” Allen weakly smiled, and continued to listen in. “Those who aided in driving off the Fallen will be rewarded. Speak to the Tower postmaster upon your return. And to all Guardians out in combat, let your light burn our enemies back to their corners!” The ghost chirped then, signalling that the transmission ended.
Allen hopped up on the former turret of the Tank, and flashed his helmet lights to the approaching warlock to show where he was. He then slid down the charred metal siding and stepped up to the other guardian. Allen offered a gloved paw which the other fur shook warmly and flashed a green light for a smile, his visor tinted to shield harsher light that comes from low atmosphere areas. “Well,” Allen said over the headset, “That was fun.”
“Fun?!” His ghost beeped, adopting a sarcastic tone, “Oh sure, just wiped out a fallen battalion with armored support. Nothing to see here. Just daily life.”
Allen Chuckled, “And that, my warlock ally, is Jake.” He nodded to the ghost. “And who might you be, Sir?”
The dragon grinned in silent mirth and replied, “Doran, My name is Doran.” He offered a small and polite bow, and continued in a mildly regal voice. “Dragon of the Scorched Brotherhood, and slayer of Dark enemies. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing, Guardian?”
Allen wished he didn’t have a helmet on, he was tearing up in laughter at hearing the false accent. He tried his best to fight laughter with laughter, and replied in an overly dramatic voice, “Allen Smithfield, Clydesdale of the Long Patrol.” He took a knee and extended his bow greatly for humorous effect. “At your service, good firedrake”
Doran
Doran wasn’t able to keep a straight face much longer. His laughter crackled over the radio and he shook his head, resting his hands on his hips and stretching his wings just a little, as much as he could with them tucked into their pressurized pockets beneath his long coat. “‘Doran’ will do just fine, really. It’s a pleasure to meet you Allen. Damned fine work with those Fallen, felt like we make a pretty good team.”
Allen
Allen smiled beneath his Visor and swished his tail, grinning at the compliment. “Mighty kind of ya, Doran, though you weren’t a scrub out there either. Tell ya what, hows about we both beam up to orbit, take this back to the tower, and share a victory reward back at the tower. I’d love to keep talking here, but…” I wave a gloved paw over the wasted fallen. “I don’t think this makes that good’a scenery, ye know?”
He turned to his ghost, and with a nod, the robot sent Dorans Ghost his Ship coordinates. Before he “Beamed” up, he turned back with a wide grin on his furred face. “Oh, and don’t be late, It’s a roaring shame to be late”
Doran
The dragon returned the grin, nodding his agreement as he nodded to his own Ghost to bring his ship into position and prep the transmat system. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He relaxed back into the transmat beam as he joined Allen in orbit, settling back into the familiar pilot’s chair as he eased off his helmet. After his usual few breaths of silence he glanced over the armored hood, inspecting the new patches of char and chuckling as he remembered the near-miss of that cannon round.
“Set a course for the Tower, and hold formation with our new friend whenever he’s ready to go.” The Ghost gave a chirp of acknowledgement as Doran gazed out the view screens. Allen’s own jump ship could now be seen in a parallel orbit a few hundred meters away. When the other ship’s engines flared and accelerated it to near-light speed, or NLS as it was generally abbreviated, Doran’s own followed close behind. The dragon rested his head back against the seat, relaxing and letting his eyes unfocus a little, content to spend the next few moments just losing himself in the colored streaks of light that made up the NLS landscape.
Allen
Allen threw some switches, mostly letting his ghost handle the flight mechanics of NLS. Then he turned his visor on to external ship view, and turned in time to see Dorans ship come in line with his. He grinned and then to his ghost said, “Okay, time to jump, put on some classics, okay? His ghost let out a crackle that he came to know as a groan. “Why can’t you listen to regular guardian music?” his ghost said. Allen chuckled and replied without a missing a beat, “Because Techno sucks! Now crack up some of that Creedence!” As the ship accelerated to near light speed, Allen sang along lustily with the music, “Woah, thought it was a nightmare, lord it was so true. They told me don’t go walkin’ slow, ‘cause the devils on the loose.”
Chapter 2: A proper introduction
Allen
Allen rocked out and was slightly sad that the music ended just as he re-entered orbit around earth. Allens ghost keyed in the location of the tower and nosed the Ship into high atmosphere, taking it down with robotic precision so that it glided through the layers of Earth's ozone. Allen then keyed in Dorans Signal and tuned in his headset as his craft kept up a steady descent. “Okay,” Allen said into the microphone, “from what I hear, there’s some new bounties in the tower, wanna gear up after the kill card dump and tackle those?”
He paused, and then added, “Or we could head to the civies bar and drink our earning away like Real men” He chuckled at this and then looked ahead at the growing sight of the traveler. He smiled and said a small thanks to the growing orb that was their cities protector. “Thank you, for letting me see this beautiful sight once more”
Doran
Doran smiled, watching the clouds slip by as his own ship followed Allen’s on approach to the Tower. “I’m eager to check in with the Postmaster and see what sorts of rewards the Vanguard have come up with for our part in that little party on the Moon. After that, though… I was fresh out of another mission on Mars when I got the call about the Fallen on Luna so I wouldn’t mind a short break before we head back out. I may not aim to drink away all of my earnings, but after taking down that Walker just the two of us I think we deserve to share at least one!”
Allen
Allen grinned as he beamed down to the tower. “Okay, Postmaster first, drinking later.” He replied, and then started up the steps, taking off his helmet in the first time for a good month. His fur glistened with sweat, and with a shake, sent the water glistening around, creating a shower of reflected light. “It’s good to be home again,” Allen said, stepping up to the postmaster, “We’re just back from the Moon, what’s new?” The postmaster smiled, and replied with a chirp, “Checking packages for an ‘Allen Smith. One new package from the Speaker, do you wish to open?”
Allen nodded, and his inventory flared up bright yellow. He let out a slow whistle as he watched the Data process. “Doran,” He said, “You better get here, You’re not gonna believe this.” Before him, a Special bounty appeared, tasked with tales of a special armor set, just recently uncovered by the Fallen. Allen was tasked by the speaker to retrieve the armor and use it in the name of the Tower. He hoped Doran would get just as kind of a gift.
Doran
The dragon materialized on the Tower’s entry platform only a few moments behind Allen, glancing over his shoulder briefly to spot his Ghost piloting his ship to the hangar for storage. He then climbed the steps and made his way over to the Postmaster also, grinning as he recognized Allen from his armor and was finally able to put the name to the face behind the helmet. “Good to see you finally in the open air,” he commented, then looked over at the robotic frame manning the desk and tilted his head inquiringly.
“Checking, checking, checking…” the frame muttered in its characteristically friendly synthesized voice. “One package.”
Doran nodded that he wished to open it, his Ghost materializing at his shoulder to display its addition to his stored inventory. Seeing the same flare of yellow that Allen had a moment before, he widened his eyes a bit. “Oooh… exotic bounty? A full armor set… nice. Did you get this too? Now we definitely have something to celebrate!”
Allen
Allen smirked and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. first thing on the to do list is to get some Fallen kills on Earth right?” As I say this, I see a fairly drunk civilian walk out of the bar and hanger area. The Dragon, clearly drunk and leaning on a fair and jet black wolf, belched, and fell off his buddies aid, letting loose a small ball of fire. He noticed the problem with the sudden fire and rushed to put it out, stomping the flames out and then turning to the Wolf. “He your problem?” Allen asked, nodding to the drunkard.
The wolf growled low and said, “Yeah, but the bastard’s paying me too well to let me get on with my work.” Allen nodded, and then turned on his headset. “Hey, this is allen in the Main tower plaza, we’ve got a drunk civilian and he’s in need of removal, Copy?” There was a garbled yes, and Allen responded, “Right, send up the clean up crews too, I doubt he left the bar without a mess.”
Doran
Doran watched the exchange and frowned softly, wincing slightly at the small fire. Keeping a wary eye on his drunken kin, he leaned close to Allen and muttered a bit sheepishly, “Ah, when I suggested that drink I had and still have no intention of getting that far gone Just in case you’re wondering. Risky business, being a drunk dragon. Maybe we should hurry to the bar and make sure it’s still standing…”
Allen
Allen nodded, and turned to the wolf, saying, “Right, do you think you can the drunk while we check on the bar?” The wolf nodded and Allen turned back to Doran. “Got it, let’s head out.” Allen started jogging in the direction of the bar, Doran following close behind. When they reached the bar, most of the mess was already being handled, minus one or two smoldering chairs.
Doran
The dragon winced a little as he looked around, giving a small sigh. “Well…. could’ve been worse. I suppose one way to look at it is that no matter how fire-belchy a drunk dragon might get, the destructive potential of that is still well less than say, somebody sending off a Nova Bomb or Fist of Havoc in a public space like this. Thank goodness that isn’t something that happens often.” A few of the bar’s workers were still holding fire extinguishers and seemed to have taken care of most of it, although Doran grabbed a spare and gave a few sprays to the smoldering chairs just to be on the safe side. “Anybody get hurt?” he asked of the bartender, who shook his head. The dragon looked a bit relieved.
Allen
Allen chuckled at the super remark. “Yeah, that would be quite a bomb of a different caliber. Since they seem to have things under wraps, lets head back to the Dorms, I doubt they’ll let us have a few after all this.”
Allen started off for the Dorm section of the tower, waiting by the door for Doran. During the pause, he remarked, “Hey, maybe we’ll bump into that wolf? Who knows?” He chuckled and added, “Sides, I think he owes us a drink after the incident his buddy caused.”
Chapter 3: Wolf of a Different Color
Allen
It only took a few minutes to find the wolfs’ dorm, mainly helped by several Tower administrators who were in search of the Wolf’s dragon friend. Doran and Allen followed close behind, catching the odd word from the Admins. Bits of conversation that included, “Third time this month, potential blacklist,” and “revoke their Guardian status” were all too easy to pick up.
Allen turned to Doran and said, “This doesn’t sound well. I think we may want to step in, don’t you?”
Doran
Doran nodded his agreement, frowning. “If there’s something we can do, definitely. We need every Guardian we can get. Bad enough when we lose one to battle somewhere beyond the reach of the Light, but losing one to something as stupid as behavior like this is something we have to stop if we can.” He looked up and down the hallway, then double-checked the number on the door of the dorm room they’d come to. “This should be the place for that wolf. Maybe the dragon too if he’s still looking after him. Would you like to do the honors?”
Allen
Allen nodded, and knocked. A Fair but deep voice growled from behind the metal sheet, “Who the hell now!?”
Allen sighed, “It’s the horse from earlier, the one who helped with your Dragon problem?” He braced for some snide retort, but instead, the door opened quickly, and both Allen and Doran were pulled into the room. The Wolf at the door sigh and closed the door as soon as both horse and dragon were in. “Thank damn god,” he said, turning to Allen, “The admins must have my old room number. I Swear, that Asshole I’m stuck with can’t be saved from temptation.”
He then looked over to Doran. “So, what’s the damages? Is there still a bar left or are we now supporting three more unemployed?”
Allen shook his head, “No, just that they're pissed that there’s a problem in the first place. A good bit of the Admins looking for you were human, so worst comes to worst, you could pull a race card for your Friend. But,” Allen grinned, “I think there might be something for both you and your Dragon friend to clear your debts. I’ve been tracking some rumors with Dead Orbit, and word through the grapevine is that the’ve done it.”
The wolf looked at Allen questioningly. “Done it? Done the hell what?” Allen grinned and replied, “They’ve gotten permission from the speaker to start a small Outpost. Dead orbits desperate for takers, even with their ranks accounted. Besides being dangerous as all hell, they're willing to settle for any price for willing guardians. See if your guy is willing to join in and you both are debt free.”
The wolf paused, taking this in, and then a small fanged smile appeared on his face. “That may just work. Say, what’s Your name, stranger?” Allen returned a smile with his own. With an offered paw, he said, “Allen, and you?”
“Korey Nightfang Wilkins, at your service.” He nodded at a small lump on a couch behind him, “And that sorry sack of shit is Cody Thunder Xyan.” Wilkins walked over to the couch, and punched lightly into the blanket, “That is, if he ever did anything after what happened!”
There was a muffled groan, and then the dragons head prodded out from the covers. “Ugggh, You know why I can’t fight. Oww…. I need a drink.” He started digging below the covers and pulled out a bottle of scotch, which was then quickly taken by the wolf. “Like hell you do. Now if you don’t tell these men, I will, and I won’t hold shit back, you vain drunken sack of scales.”
The drunkard moaned again, gripping his head, but then slowly nodded and said in a slur, “Fuckitfinnnne.” He started sitting up, still reeling in a hangover. When he was finally upright, he started saying, “So I was once a’h leader of a fiar team an then we got jumped. Lee and Jason got downed in a heartbeat, and all I could do was run.”
His eyes dilated suddenly, and he gripped his head while moaning, “Fucckkkk, gimmie that drink. I hate ‘membering stuff like that” The dragon was fast, but the wolf was faster, and Wilkins kept the bottle from Xyan. “No, you start sobering up, we’ve got a job to do.” And with that, Wilkens walked over to the kitchen area of the dorm and slammed the bottle down a garbage shoot, hard enough that all present could hear the bottle shatter before it’s decent.
“YOUSONOFABITCH!” Allen Jumped back as Xyan flung his hungover form at Wilkins, who quickly retaliated with a swift sidestep and followed it up by grabbing the dragon in a choke hold. “No, you listen you drunkard, your time to wallow in self pity is done. You are going sober now, you understand?” When Xyan struggled, Wilkins slammed the dragon against a wall and then tightened his grip. “I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?” Allen felt his neck hair stand on end at the growled command, and thankfully Xyan finally caved. “Fine, you fuckin’ bit-” Before he could finish the insult, he quickly had his head slammed into the wall and slumped down in Wilkins grip.
Allen and Doran stood shellshocked by the quick change of tone in the room as wilkens turned around, still supporting Xyan. Finally, after looking the two over, Wilkins said in a labored voice, “You gonna help me get his sorry ass ready?” Allen and Doran wasted no breath of time after the spectacle Wilkins put on, and hurried to aid him.
Doran
The dragon watched the entire exchange in shock, too busy just taking it all in to actually react until then. Shaking his head, he hurried over with Allen to help the wolf. “Are we sure about this? Please don’t get me wrong, we’ve all lost people and I’ve got nothing but sympathy for this guy. Dragon solidarity on top of everything else. And if this is a way to give him another chance to pull it together I’m all for that, but is he battle-ready?” He regarded the dragon he was helping wrestle through the apartment, frowning uncertainly at Wilkins. “I just mean… I’m willing to trust that I’m probably not exactly seeing Xyan at his best just now, but his current state doesn’t do a lot to convince me I’d want to be reliant on this guy when the bullets are flying.”
Allen
Wilkins nodded and with all three working together hefted the dragon back to their bed area. He then turned to Doran, and said, “If he weren’t such a weakling for liquor then I’d say yes, but I’d have to give him a week to sober up first now. Plus there’ll be the recovery training to get back into the swing of things. I’m in a better state than he is but I’ll still need to catch up too. I’d say we’re looking at two weeks and some change. What about you? Any family ties, gear, guns, etcetera?”
Doran
Doran shrugged lightly, helping settle the other dragon. “Hard to have too many family ties as a Guardian. Plenty of gear and guns, all work-related. These days I mostly just go where the Vanguard points me and shoot who they tell me needs shooting. This mission Dead Orbit’s calling for sounds a bit dicey, but what doesn’t these days?”
Allen
Wilkins smiled, and Allen grinned, reciting, “The only easy day was yesterday.” He then turned to Wilkins. “So I think that settles it. I’ve already gotten signed on and I’ve been designated the old republic district. I think that area is where the empire of Britain was but I’ve been combing archive records just to be sure. With us four, assuming this sack of scales gets sober, we should be in for an interesting weekend.”
Allen offered a paw to each fur present, and Wilkins took it with a warm grip. “Thanks Allen, and you too Doran, this should be the turn of luck both of us need. I’ve been getting an itch I couldn’t scratch till you showed up, and now I’m feeling twice the Wolf I was before.”
Doran
Doran grinned widely, gripping both Allen’s and then Wilkins’ hands in turn. “Ought to be quite the party. If you can watch our backs, we’ll watch yours. Xyan especially looks like he could use something to turn him around, so hopefully this can do that for him.”
Allen
Wilkens nodded, and gave the fair dragon a toothy grin. “Well, you better get to it then! He’s your mess to look after while I go with Allen to get registered. Lets hope he’ll be in shape by the time the strike is called to action.”
Doran
The blue dragon hadn’t expected to end up responsible for Cody Xyan, but fate seemed to make its own decisions in that regard. Xyan was in rough shape when he woke up, and with Allen and Wilkins having gone off to sort out registration for the mission with Dead Orbit, the Titan green dragon’s care fell to Doran. Caring for recovering drunks wasn’t something he had any particular experience with, but sharing a strong coffee with the other dragon seemed like a decent enough starting point.
Xyan didn’t speak much, and Doran didn’t blame him, given the rough shape he was clearly in. The rest of that afternoon they barely exchanged more than a few words, Doran quietly helping Xyan get himself cleaned up and lingering a while after Wilkins returned. For all his initial distaste toward the other dragon, or at least his way of handling trauma, the warlock quickly found himself softening toward him. He was no stranger to the horrors of war, and even if Xyan had adopted a particularly self-destructive coping mechanism for it Doran could tell it was well-deserved. It was just the barest hint of a haunted look in the dragon’s eyes that he only barely caught now and then, but it was enough to see that Xyan was grievously damaged by what he’d lived through.
By the time Doran left that night to get some rest, he realized that he’d already come to feel somewhat protective toward Xyan, and wanted to help him get back on his feet.
Xyan didn’t make it entirely easy, of course. Being dragged forcibly back to sobriety didn’t make him the friendliest of people, and Doran had to call on his Warlock-trained focus and calm many times during the following several days as the other dragon hurled curses, insults, and the occasional punch. He kept at it though, with ample assistance from Wilkins and Allen, and by the end of the week they’d gotten Xyan back into his armor and his head somewhat cleared. Doran convinced him to accompany him to the Tower’s firing range to start retraining his hands and eyes to combat, and was suitably impressed at the result.
The recovering dragon wasn’t one to take encouragement easily though, and slammed down his auto rifle in frustration after several rounds went wide of the target on one of his sessions. “Damned useless. I can’t even shoot straight anymore, you don’t want a wreck like me out there with you.”
Doran set down his scout rifle and turned to Xyan, leaning against the barrier beside him. “You can, actually. I’ve seen it. Two magazines ago, you emptied your entire clip into the ring and not one went wide. Difference is you weren’t thinking too much. I was watching. You let yourself fall into a rhythm of short, controlled bursts. This last time, you got thinking about it too intensely, your grip tightened up, and you spent the whole time fighting against the rifle. When you relax into it, you’re damn near a magician with that thing.”
The other dragon scowled. “That’s great and all, but how in fuck am I supposed to ‘relax’ when we’re in a firefight with a bunch of Fallen or someone else trying to kill us? ‘Specially if you’re gonna insist on throwing me sober into combat… I already know how it’s gonna go. I’m just gonna see them again. Lee and Jason, going down, I’m going to panic and freeze and then either get myself or one of you shot.”
“Maybe.”
Xyan looked up at Doran’s response, surprised. “Shit. You even agree with me? Why are you even helping me then?”
“I said maybe. Maybe we’ll go on this mission together and find ourselves in over our heads. Maybe we’ll find ourselves in the middle of a massive Fallen operation with an entire House turning out to try and kill us. Maybe we’ll uncover an entire Hive colony that’ll turn out and try to tear us to bits. Maybe things will get crazy and you’ll panic like before. Or maybe I will. Or maybe you’ll find your focus and it’ll be your bullets that save my life. War is uncertain, Xyan, and there’s no way we can know what we’ll face or how we’ll react. But I wouldn’t have spent the last week subjecting myself to your warm and friendly demeanor day in and day out if I didn’t think you were worth it.”
“Well that’s great for making me feel all warm and fuzzy, but what the hell DO you see? What possibly makes me worth it to you?”
“This for one.” Doran grabbed one of Xyan’s used target sheets from a stack on the range’s work table, holding it up. It was the one he’d mentioned a moment ago, with every shot grouped impressively in the target circle. “I know you’ve taken damage, Cody. I know you’re rough and ragged, but stuff like this shows me the potential you’ve got, too. I want to help you get that back. And from what I can see you’re not as far from it as you think. This kind of shot grouping would be impressive from a scout rifle, and you’re using this mad bastard on full auto.”
“Never got on well with scout rifles. Fire too damned slow and frustrate me. I need something I can cover the area with better. Besides, firing that straight’s no good to you if I can’t do it consistently.”
“Scouts aren’t right for everyone, but there’s more than one type of auto rifle. Here, humor me with something.” Doran walked over to the firing range’s vault access console, returning a moment later with a sturdy-looking rifle, imposingly finished in matt black. “Why don’t you give this one a try. It’s slower-firing than yours but you might get on better with the feel.”
Xyan continued to look unconvinced, but obligingly carried the new rifle over to the barrier and cocked it. Shouldering it, he fired a few quick bursts down range to try the feel of the gun. The trailing shots of the first couple bursts walked north of the target circle as he learned the character of the rifle’s kick, but he finished the magazine with longer bursts and kept them all in the circle. When he finished, he eyed the new rifle a bit untrustingly. “...This some kinda funny Warlock magic or something?”
Doran chuckled. “No, that one’s purely mechanical. I dumped a mess of glimmer on the Tower Gunsmith to help me modify that one about a year ago, and he worked with me swapping parts and materials until the balance was damn near perfect. I like it, but I’ve since gotten fixated on my scout rifle. If you like the feel of it it’s yours. It’ll still fill the air with lead on full auto, but each shot hits a bit harder and it’s a lot more stable than the one you’ve been using.”
“I’ll say. I like the higher rate of fire, but… well, feels like I might hit stuff more often with this one.” The dragon looked over at Doran a bit uncertainly. “You’re sure…?”
Doran grinned. “Extra sure, if you’re liking it that well after just one try. By all means keep your old one on hand too, sometimes a bullet hose is what a job calls for, but if this one feels good then keep practicing with it and show me what you can do. I’m still eager to see why your callsign is ‘Thunder.’”
For the first time since Doran had met him, Cody Xyan gave a grin of his own. “Heh, that? That’s because of what I can do with Storm Fist…”
Allen
While Doran and Xyan had their moments of training, Wilkins and Allen took to each other like a pike to a stream. While they had different things to talk about, mostly with their class and faction differences, they both had a love for old world comedies and animations. When they weren’t relaxing in the evenings, they were at the sparing zone, doing hand to hand combat techniques. What Allen did in blunt and sloppy punches, Korey did in quick light jabs, rapidly working in punches that whittle down an enemy's resolve to fight.
Meanwhile, Korey also started teaching Allen blade skills. With a simple dagger in his hand and a charge of void, Wilkins was death on the wind. Several times, to the tune of angered muttering from tower trainers resetting the practice dummies, Korey sliced clean through titanium grade targets like butter, “Dancing” between targets like a bullet.
Near the end of the first week, while they were both watching an old revival of the cartoon “Tom And Jerry,” Korey turned to Allen and asked, “What was it that caused you to search us out that day?”
Allen chuckled and paused the show before replying, “At first, I was just hoping your room mate would give us a reward for helping clean up his mess. Now, though?” He sat up straighter, A glint like fire in his eyes. “Now, I want to form a guild with you. We’ve almost enough people together to start our own, and with it, we’d gain benefits that aren’t already in our power.”
He chuckled and sat back,remote at the ready. “But that’s an idea for later,” he said, turning his attention back to the TV screen, “let’s enjoy the now before it’s gone to the past.”
Doran
Xyan was true to his word. When he and Doran visited the sparring zone, the Titan’s ability to channel his Light into the devastating and lightning-infused punch known as ‘Storm Fist’ was uncommonly fast; nearly twice the rate at which Doran could charge his own void-powered palm strike. The result left Doran nearly speechless as he watched his new friend leave several practice dummies in sparking pieces on the floor in quick succession.
“Damn. You must be an absolute beast at close quarters. I can see why they call you ‘Thunder.’”
“And why I favour the close range weapons. I do best in the thick of it, don’t have the patience for all that methodical long-range work.”
“I think we could balance each other well then. I can do close quarters but I’m happier with a scout rifle and a sniper, engaging from range. If you’re up shredding our enemies’ faces while I’m supporting you from distance, we could make a brutal combo.”
Cody grinned a little. “Yeah. At least if you’re shooting is as hot as you act like it is.”
Doran just chuckled in reply, pleased at how easily the two dragons had established a dynamic between them. “We’ve been working hard, and I think we’re both looking good but tired. Let’s go relax in one of the lounges after we’re done here.”
The green dragon raised an eye ridge, looking a bit dubious. “And what? Share a drink?”
Doran smiled and shook his head. Cody had been recovering well, but he wasn’t about to push him into temptation. “I was going to suggest ice cream.”
Allen
Allen paused what he was doing and looked at his HUD. “Crap,” he muttered, and he contacted Xyan, Doran, And Wilkins to a group meeting. “Right, guys, I think we need to talk.
Later, they all gathered in Allen’s room. Most of the space was empty, but the walls held a few posters from the pre collapse era and a few trophies from his adventures. In the middle of the room was a holo-map, detailing where their mission was to take them. “Right,” He began, “I called you all here to do two things. One, Inform you we’ve been delayed two weeks because of heavy Fallen activity in this area. I’d rather go in with less Guns and Explosions and more tactics. Two, I’ve called you here to go over the majority of our rolls. Right now, I’ve got the old town sector right there.” He points to a small area, mostly described by blocky structures and narrow areas.
“Doran, you and Xyan have two areas, but I want you two to stick together. First, I want you to go by these forests, look for good places to defend. If we need to, we can dig the outpost in the ground, but I’d rather be quick about this, and low profile if possible.”
He then looked over to Korey with a small grin. “Wilkins, you have an old military base to search. I doubt the Fallen and scavengers left much, but if I’m reading this right, there’s an old sealed Amory on file in there. Grab what you can and bring it down to the town. I hope there’s something good there, it’s the only part I’m putting to luck.”
He looked up at the group. “Right. any questions?”
Doran
Doran looked over the holo-map, studying the layout carefully. “Looks straightforward enough. I expect you’ll be right; we’ll find what we can in the forests for fallback positions, but I’d imagine the ruins will suit our purposes better. More cover, assuming the Fallen don’t level it too badly in the meantime. Cody will be at his strongest in the tighter quarters, too.” The blue dragon grinned around the table at his companions. “Ought to be fun.”
Allen
Allen Grinned and nodded. “If we’re all in agreement then?” He asked, and after getting a nod from everyone, he continued. “Right, we’ll meet in orbit two weeks from now. This was easier than I thought. See you all then, men.”
