In the early grey light, among the shadows of the cosmodrome, a single sparrow flew between the cars, tanks and planes. It left a trail of smoke as it went, and on its flanks burned small patches of fire.

On its back rode a Hunter; one of the last Hunters left in the world.

Connor Oak leaned low over his sparrow, weaving between rusted skeletons of cars, trying to keep his mount stable. While he managed to stay upright, the flames spread further along the flank of the sparrow. "Oh, heck with this," he said gruffly. He turned the sparrow so it slid sideways then kicked off and used his jump boost to send himself flying forwards. The speeder rolled the opposite direction, flames spreading across its chassis. As Connor flew forward he turned midair and quick-fired his Rocket launcher. The glowing, purple projectile hit the sparrow and exploded in a blinding flash of white-purple light.

"That was your last rocket," a voice said over the comm.

"I know it was," Connor said, aiming his auto rifle through the smoke. He turned a knob on the scope, switching it to infrared vision. Through the smoke he saw several dozen shapes, all moving slowly towards him.

"You didn't even hit any of them," his ghost complained, appearing over his shoulder.

"I know I didn't," Connor spat, turning and sprinting away from the smoking crater that was once his favorite sparrow.

"Then why did you do it?" his ghost asked, barely keeping up with him.

"Because it'll slow them down. You know they move in a straight line when they chase, Jeffry," he snapped, leaping over what once was a minivan.

"I hate it when you call me that," the ghost, Jeffry, said hovering a few feet behind him. The two dashed across the remains of the cosmadrome, trying to stay ahead of the darkness behind them

Connor soon arrived at the evac zone he and the other guardians set up. They had set up inside an abandoned warehouse with an armored front. He ran down the hallway that was dimly lit with lanterns. At the end of the hallway he smashed his fist into a button. Behind them, dozens of trip mines activated, buying him much needed time.

At the back of the hallway was the warehouse itself, the ceiling having been blown out during The Collapse. Walkways spanned the square walls. In the center of the room, the debris cleared out. The space was large enough to land a Cabal dropship and have room to disgorge the troops within.

As he crossed the threshold he collapsed. Two full days of running, fighting and losing friends and allies had drained him beyond any normal Human's limit. He closed his eyes a moment, enjoying a moment's peace. Suddenly a shadow fell across his face. He looked up to see a Fallen captain, bearing the marks of the house of wolves pointing a scorch cannon right at him.

Breathing very slowly, Connor stood up. Connor was tall, but the Captain stood a head and shoulders above him. Without moving his head he glanced around the room more Fallen stepped out of the shadow or uncloaked, snipers on the walkways, Vandals with scrap guns and three Dregs. "Are you infected…?" it said cautiously, not lowering the cannon.

"No armor breach, no damage," Connor replied, keeping very still.

"The blast marks?" eyes still trained directly on Connor's face.

"He blew up his sparrow," his ghost said, glowering at him.

"A little bit," Connor conceded, with a shrug. Another Fallen, one of the snipers on the railing, questioned "Why did you do that? That won't slow them down at all."

"Can we drop the subject?" Connor snapped, waving the question away, "And while you're at it, lower the guns?"

Most of the Fallen lowered their guns, while some trained them on the entrance. The captain raised his lower right arm shake Connor's hand, a skill few Fallen master. "Were there no survivors?" the captain asked, leaning on the cannon, "And what about the package?"

Connor shook his head, "They were already gone," he replied sorrowfully, "But the package was there. It's onboard my ship. But…Arlak, there's an army of them out there. We don't have long."

"We have a skiff coming…but it is still fifteen minutes away. We will need to hold out until it arrives," Arlak responded, now hefting the Scorch cannon.

"The trip mines are up," Connor said, tilting his head to the side, deep in thought, "And when Thomas and Mira get back we should be able to hold out for at least an hour. Maybe more if the dumb ones stopped to go after my sparrow."

At this, he turned to his Ghost and glared daggers at it. He then returned to Arlak. "Speaking of, have they checked in yet?"

"They have been and gone," Arlak responded, "Another Pilgrim group was discovered and they went to secure it. This is why we wait for a skiff."

"Great," Jeffry complained, "Now we have to hold off the army of shells while waiting for a cramped skiff. Speaking of which…."

Back down the hallway, the sound of explosions rang clear, and the sounds of soft moaning. "The trip mines!" Connor shouted, readying his Auto Rifle. The rest of the Fallen pointed their weapons towards the entry.

"Skiff is fifteen minutes out," Jeffry said, "And we have limited ammo in here."

Connor laughed a little, as he always did in a fight, which unsettled his allies as much as his enemies, and replied, "Just another day at the office, then."