Well here it is, a collaboration between Riesling and I, hopefully the adventure you're about to embark on will be as fun to read as it was for us to write.

Disclaimer: We obviously don't own Destiny otherwise the DLC wouldn't cost so much ;)

She was on the eastern edge of the Mothyards, exploring the wreckage of what had decades before been the fuselage of a vessel that might have spelled hope and progress for humanity; for what other reason had there been so many? Taking three cautious steps forward, she crouched into the safety of a cave, hallowed by the Fallen House of Devils for a purpose the Huntress couldn't care to divine. Now, all that remained of the accomplishments of man, undertakings that might well have laid the foundation for the Collapse, was a forgotten graveyard; tombstones of melted metal and epitaphs written as empty munition clips from Fallen and Hive alike.

'Just because man can does not mean he should,' she recalled the words of an old friend, a Warlock who had lost his Light too soon. The Huntress paused, setting her gaze on the horizon, just visible from the mouth of the cave.

A fallen skiff had just deposited a small scouting party some twenty or so meters ahead of her. A Vandal, two Shanks, and three Dreg. Loading a fresh round of ammunition into the barrel of her hand cannon, the Huntress licked her lower lip in anticipation, spinning the magazine closed as she silently trailed a path along the opposite boundary of the fuselage that separated her from where the Devils were beginning to spread out.

She let them disperse, mentally determining to pick them off individually. Her challenge in this endeavor would be to not have to reload her hand cannon in the barrage she was preparing to unleash upon her unsuspecting enemy.

Two shots and both Shanks fell from their hovering, exploding to a pile of rubble as they landed against the dirt path.

The Vandal shrieked, sending the Dreg under his command to spread out further still; flank the enemy that had destroyed their Shanks. But Serra had already moved from her position of cover behind a large wooden crate. She was circling through the center of the same fuselage that had once separated them.

Another shot through a decaying bit of the craft she was wandering through and one Dreg fell with an earsplitting yelp of protest.

Serra smirked; his head had exploded before he'd been destroyed.

She turned quickly, peering out of the remains she could only presume had once been a door, searching for the next Dreg who would become her prey. As she caught a glimmer of movement from her peripheral vision, Serra lined up to fire another shot and drew a deep breath. Just as she pulled the trigger, she felt the sting of Arc Magic scorch through the armor at her right bicep, causing her to misfire her weapon. With a scowl, she turned quickly to find that a second Dreg was still holding her in the sights of his shock pistol. She growled low in the back of her throat; he had almost taken her by surprise. Two leaps towards the creature and she hit her mark, directly between his eyes.

Stepping away, she watched as a shock grenade fell to his side. He'd meant it for her, of course, but he'd met his demise before he could hurl the projectile at the agile Huntress, still stalking her way silently through the Mothyards, taunting her enemies.

Turning back towards the doorway she'd leapt away from, Serra swiftly slit the throat of the Dreg at which she'd previously misfired. She smirked, raising her eyebrow as she watched the Fallen Devil quivering at her feet. That left her with only the Vandal yet to deal with and one bullet to see her self-imposed challenge to fruition. Her voice was a low whisper, "Come out, come out wherever you are, love."

And then, as if to protest her taunt, the last Vandal shrieked and gave away his position. Her green eyes shot to the north end of the fuselage where she caught a glimpse of him hovering over the remains of the Dreg who had suffered at the blast of his own shock grenade. Throwing two of his arms into the air, Serra held her breath as the Vandal fired two bursts from his shock rifle in Serra's direction.

Ducking behind a metal box, she peered around the corner of her makeshift shelter and fired the last round of her hand cannon – a miss. She had been too far away to hit the Devil; he'd rolled off of her line of fire expertly, like she hadn't been the first Guardian who's sight he'd been on the wrong side of.

The Huntress charged him, reaching for the field knife strapped to her right thigh she slid under the next wave of fire that he sent in her direction. When she threw the knife, it connected directly with the place just between his upper set of eyes. As she rose to her feet, coming to stand over him, she watched the way his black blood stained what little remained of the snowfall under her feet.

Placing one of her rust brown boots on the Vandal's throat, the Huntress bent over her kill and pulled her knife from his forehead with a swift motion of her hand. As she set to the task of cleaning the blade on his tattered cape, she noticed something gleam from within the folds of a pouch at his waist; so she reached inside to remove the remains of a dead Ghost. Cocking her head to the side as she ran a hesitant finger over the device, she sighed, feeling her heart constrict within her chest, "Come, little light, let us return you home to Tower."

As she secured the sleeping metal frame within the leather field pouch secured to her left hip, her own Ghost hesitated, "What was that?"

Serra frowned, turning her gaze upwards in time to watch the sky grow dark, like the sun was being eclipsed, and she braced herself when the ground began to shake. A flash of light filled her vision as she watched an old warsat fall out of the sky a few hundred meters away from where she'd just finished exploring. She didn't hesitate, rushing in the direction of the metal wreckage. Her Vanguard would be pleased if she could secure this artifact for analysis. The look on Cayde's face when she would reveal that she'd defended the warsat on her own – she smirked, reloading her hand cannon as she went.

"How exciting," she murmured, summoning her Ghost to analyze what she'd found and report to Tower so that a transport could be arranged.

"I knew we'd be getting into this," her Ghost protested.

Meanwhile, from across the Mothyards, a behemoth Titan shielded his eyes as he watched a manic ball of fire and metal careen out of the sky. The impact shook the ground like the earth itself would split in two.

"Woooow," the Warlock beside him sarcastically gawked as a bright light consumed the sky. But even as the dust settled, neither Warlock nor Titan moved; not even the Hunter with them budged from the place where he lounged against a wooden crate less than a meter away.

"Um, we should probably go check that out," Nolano asked tentatively. When neither member of his Fireteam made to react, he added nervously, "Right?"

The Warlock nodded in agreement but the Hunter only grunted. The Warlock rolled his eyes as he nudged the Hunter with the toe of his grey boot.

"Get up, Bo. You know just as well as I that we haven't done shit out here for the past two days. At least we'll have something to report back now."

The Hunter tilted his head a bit, looking up at the Warlock, before picking himself up off of the ground. He shrugged in response to his Fireteam Leader before leading the way down a hill and towards the entrenched warsat.

"Whatever," the Warlock waved to the Titan, vaulting down off of the piece of shrapnel he'd been sitting upon to catch the Hunter. "C'mon, Tiny; let's hit it."

Despite his size, Nolano was quick to catch up with the duo as they started off in a jog towards the fallen satellite. Granted, it hadn't taken them long to see a battle ensuing ahead. Hordes of Fallen were being beaten back by a single Huntress; she seemed hell bent on killing even the lowly Dreg that tried to flee the range of her hand cannon.

"Reinforcements!" the voice of her Ghost called out over the sound of her hand cannon, fired once, twice, three times.

"Form up, boys, give her some cover," the Warlock commanded as he waved the other two men forward.

The rounds of Nolano's pulse rifle sliced through the approaching Fallen as he took up position close to the Huntress, nearly brushing shoulders with her as she fluttered from the warsat's east and west sides, marking her targets and ending them with deathly precision. The Titan couldn't help but feel that she seemed rather upset about their Fireteam's intrusion, for some reason.

As Bo began to rain down fire from the top of a nearby ridge, she practically growled, "I was doing fine on my own!"

But the trio added their firepower to her own, despite what outward irritation she seemed to express for their efforts; staying for not two but three additional waves of Fallen reinforcements that tried in vain to capture the Golden Age relic for their own purposes. When the final skiff came to dispense another wave of their enemy's forces, Nolano watched in quiet awe as the Huntress jumped up on top of the warsat, drawing her shotgun off of her back. She crouched low, jumping once and then disappearing from sight flicked by the power of her Blink, flying towards the Fallen Devils that were exiting their skiff.

She caught a Dreg, launching herself off of his shoulders, and intercepted a Captain as he fell. Her arms were wrapped around the beast's neck as the pair of them started to fall towards the ground together. But she seemed to have been prepared for attack as she fired two rounds from her well-worn shotgun directly into the Captain's back. As she landed on top of his body, against the ground, her hunting knife sliced through the tough skin at the back of his neck.

Nolano drew a deep breath, sensing that his Fireteam were all staring at the Guardian like she'd grown a second head – he wasn't the only one who'd been surprised by her daredevil antics. When she summoned a plume of Arc Light, the Titan was instantly reminded that the battle was not yet won – she sped toward two nearby Servitor, slicing them in half. Nolano was spurred to motion when she threw a second knife into the face of a Dreg that had found his way behind the Warlock. The Titan, quick to repay her kindness in saving his Fireteam Leader, fired a few rounds of his pulse rifle to dispense of the final two Shanks and a Vandal.

With the final burst of her Arc powered blade, the slight-framed little Huntress placed a shockwave near the ground at Bo's feet.

"The fuck, woman?" Bo spat at the fiery Huntress, angry as a hornet as he jumped down off of the ridge and made a leap for her. Before he could get his hands on her, she'd sidestepped him, jumping back to the corpse of the Captain she'd killed to remove her knife from the back of his neck.

Before Bo could chase after her again, the Warlock gripped his shoulder, holding him in place.

The Titan was captivated, to say the least; he couldn't figure out for the life of him why she seemed to find their presence to be such a hindrance. They had helped her quite a considerable amount; a story told clearly in the number of Fallen lying dead at their feet. Now, Nolano was the first to admit that women totaled very few of his communicative experiences – but her ferocity was intriguing. Damn intriguing. Perhaps there was a reason for her discontent that day – and even though it was far outside of the realms of his comfort level, the Titan figured he should at least try to inquire as to why she seemed in such a fowl temper before such behavior had to be recorded in the usual post mission briefing.

If anything, her words might be enough to discourage his squad's leader, Talzen, from fabricating something outlandish and crude.

"He-hello, uh, how are you doing – er – doing today, ma'am?" the Titan managed, extending a slightly shaking hand to the Huntress.

When she turned her attention to the Titan that had spoken to her, Nolano recoiled, slightly. His skin crawled as he felt the Huntress visibly size him up. Nervous wouldn't even begin to describe what he felt – her scrutiny was almost tangible as she looked him up and down. She approached slowly. When she passed by Bo, she flicked her wrist to dispense of the Captain's blood from her field knife, sending the dark liquid splattering over the other Hunter's boots and shin guards.

That drew an audible growl from the Hunter, he always knew if he ever saw this particular Huntress again, it would be too soon.

Seizing his hand, Nolano narrowed his eyes as he watched her turn it over; she was inspecting his… hands? His gloves maybe? But instead of releasing his limb, she jerked him forward, towards her like the feat had required little more energy than throwing her knife. The Titan was extremely surprised by how much torque her lithe form could produce – an exo perhaps? Though, then again, he wasn't exactly the shining example of stability around the opposite sex.

He struggled to keep himself from falling over when she'd leaned her forehead close to his, their helmets clicking together. And her voice – the tone in which she'd whispered, "What's the matter, Titan? Do I scare you?"

Scare? To an extent, sure. She had been quite violent towards Bo only a few moments ago and she had seemed quite a bit more capable than he in the battle that occurred just moments before. More capable and a lot more reckless… Of course he wanted to compliment her on a job well done with that but his lips just locked up.

"Be nice, Guardian," the woman's Ghost whirred to life around her head.

Nolano felt relieved and disappointed at the same time when she dropped his hand to silence her Ghost with a sharp, graceful flick of her wrist. As he stood before her, staring down at her, he anxiously rubbed the back of his helm until Talzen called for him, "Hey! Hurry up, Titan; the Vanguard won't wait forever on this warsat."

Not wanting to seem rude for leaving her so abruptly, Nolano offered the fiery little Huntress a nervous bow before turning to rejoin the Warlock. The Hunter, on the other hand, growled low in his throat once again as he glanced at the Huntress; Nolano could only imagine the other man was glaring from behind his visor.

As the Titan felt himself whispered away by his Ghost's transmat, he quietly pondered the lone Huntress. Where was her Fireteam? Had she really just gone off on patrol by herself? Perhaps after years of combat she was the last of her squad. Regardless of her reason for being alone, a part of the Titan's more-sensible self was relieved to be away from the fierce Guardian. Leaning back in the cockpit of his jump ship, he relaxed, deciding the smooth stone of Tower's Plaza would be a welcome change of pace to the Russian back-country he'd been patrolling for two days.

Bo and Talzen were already waiting for their comrade to drop when Nolano felt himself rematerialize into the late afternoon sun warming the Plaza. As the Titan straightened his shoulders, none of their trio said a word about their mission, the warsat, or the Huntress they'd left behind. They were silent as they made the short trek to report their findings to Commander Zavala. Their journey was, of course, not without the usual stares of awe at the Titan's height.

Unfortunately Nolano had not braced himself for one of the other members of his Fireteam jumping onto his back with glee.

"What's up, guys!" Lana squealed as the tall Titan nearly jumped out of his armor.

"We picked up a warsat," the Warlock replied, stifling a laugh as he watched Nolano try to pry off the short Huntress as she moved about his shoulders like a spider, always keeping herself just out of his grasp. "It was pretty awesome if I do say so myself."

Even Shaxx let out a low chuckle as the group walked by. Lana's antics were always a good source of entertainment.

"Guardians!" the City's Commander bellowed as the group neared. Then he turned his attention to Talzen, continuing, "I want to commend your squad on a job well done."

Lana, turning her attention to the red and blue mark that Nolano wore at his waist, squeaked nervously as she noticed the glare that the commander shot in her direction for her obvious intentions. But even despite the reprimand, Lana refused to climb off of the tall Titan's shoulders, earning herself a disappointed look from the Commander and a snort from Cayde.

"Are there any specific details you wish to relay before I review your reports?" Zavala asked, his silvery blue eyes already turned towards the mechanical screen in front of him.

"Funny you should mention that," the Warlock narrowed his eyes. "Tiny here made, I believe, a new friend. Someone Cayde might recognize."

Bo elaborated, "It's Serra, sir."

Cayde straightened at the mention of his lone Huntress, his attention focused on the pair of Guardians before him.

So that was her name. Serra? But rather than ponder over her identity, the Titan could only frown, keeping his eyes on the ground as Talzen spoke up to the Vanguards as the tall young man had originally feared – to rag on the fierce little Huntress with absolutely no shame and no detail left unembroidered.

It was barely an hour later when she received the transmission from Cayde, "Serra! Report to Tower. There's a…" and he'd sighed at this part, taking a long pause, before he finished the thought, "There's a matter of your conduct that we need to discuss."

She'd paused in her movements, choosing not to shoot into a nearby collection of three Fallen Dreg as she processed her Vanguard's message. Confident as she would have liked to be in the situation, there was a vaguely nervous sort of tension pooling in the recesses of her subconscious – she'd sensed that something was off; that things were not going to go well for her back at Tower. The breeze caught her cape, a flutter of crimson and warm sable that flowed softly away from her, and she turned her attention to her hand cannon to reload the barrel.

"Serra?"

The Huntress let her back fall against the concrete wall she was using as cover. If her Ghost had noticed the change in her demeanor, the elevated heartrate or the increased rate of her breathing, he'd made no comment. Collecting herself and fighting to keep her voice calm, Serra replied carefully, "Yes, Vanguard."

She fired three shots for three kills.

"Immediately, Guardian!" Cayde had snapped back, severing the connection with a harsh tone.

"Now look what trouble you've gotten us into!" her Ghost scolded, flickering blue light over his Huntress. Her knees had gone weak but Serra did nothing to keep herself from falling to the ground, her legs splaying out before her. Her focus, though directed towards the horizon, was of an internal nature as the grip on her hand cannon faltered and the gun fell to rest in her lap. But her Ghost pressed on, seeming not to notice his Guardian's distress, "If only you had controlled your temper, Guardian! That Fireteam was only trying to help you! Damn your pride – it's gotten us into a fix again!"

Serra sighed, "A lecture is what you think I need right now, Ghost?"

And when he recognized her tone, the defeat evident in her voice as it laced with fear, he fell silent and came to rest on her left shoulder.

"Take me to orbit," she whispered. "Please."

"What in the Traveler's name did you think you were doin' out there, Serra?" Cayde raged, striking his fist against the war room table, over his map. He'd lowered his gaze to the scrolls laid out in front of him but the Huntress could tell that he was angry. His mechanical shoulders were shaking and he'd left a dent in the table beneath his map. "Firing on an allied Fireteam after they helped you defend a warsat?"

"Sir, I-"

"Silence!" the Vanguard looked up at her, then. His orange eyes glowed towards the end of the table where his Huntress waited with shoulders slouched for the shame of her actions and the angry gaze he held her focused intensely under. She turned to look at the floor, flinching when he raised his voice. Cayde drew a deep breath, deciding to soften his approach, "I've been too easy on you, Guardian. This is my fault for letting you get away with as much as I have."

"Sir, I can explain."

"I never asked for an explanation," he cut her off, his left hand striking the table behind him as emphasis to his point. He crossed the distance to stand in front of her, lowering his voice, "Ikora's Warlock relayed the heroics of your exploits hours ago."

Serra flinched, closing her eyes for the bitter, biting sarcasm in his voice.

"You're decommissioned, Guardian," Cayde crossed his arms over his chest, studying her closely for what reaction she might have to his punishment.

"But, sir!"

"Two weeks, Serra," the Vanguard silenced her. "I'll send for you when the Traveler again requires your services."

Her jaw fell open as she processed his words – but she quickly guarded her emotions and lowered her chin in acceptance, "Yes, Cayde."

"Dismissed."

And the Huntress left quickly, her Ghost hovering silently behind her.

When she was well out of earshot, Ikora raised an eyebrow at her peer, asking innocently, "Don't you think you were a bit hard on her, Cayde? We're all aware of Talzen's particular… conventions with embellishment."

The Exo sighed, pulling his field knife from the table where he'd used it to mark the presumed location of a Vex stronghold not far from the entrance to the Vault of Glass. He shook his head, replying, "I don't know what to do with that one. I admire her courage – but she's too reckless. If it wasn't this Fireteam, it would have been another. And I can't assign her to one of her own; she'd get the lot of them killed or worse."

"So the answer was to forbid her wanderings in the Traveler's service?" the Warlock Vanguard asked innocently, a faraway look passing over her soft features.

"Were you me, what would you have done with her?"

Ikora laughed, "I'd have trusted her alone, Cayde. But as a woman who chose to fend for myself, I can believe Serra's instincts would serve her well, keep her safe."

Zavala, crossing his arms over his chest, interjected, "If I may propose an idea of my own, Vanguards."

The Exo Hunter and the Human Warlock turned to the Awoken Titan, curious…