The sharp howling of cold wind and the mournful groan of old metal echoed up into the sky. It was that sound that awoke him from his slumber, opening his eyes to see the blackness of his pod's interior. He yawned widely, trying not to stretch in the cramped space and scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out why he'd woken up. The last thing he remembered was getting in the pod and being told they'd be woken up in deep space.

Since he could hear the whistling of wind, he could guess they hadn't left Earth. And that something had gone wrong. There was also the possibility that they had left Earth, and had crashed on another planet, which was also bad.

He stiffened in alarm as he heard a voice, the words muffled through the cushions and metal of the stasis pod. His eyes narrowed as a light shone in front of him, particles of light coalescing together to form an intelligence with a white shell that was diamond-shaped with blunt tips, the top and bottom marked with soft orange. The shell covered a single robotic eye that glowed blue, the 'pupil' also being shaped like a diamond.

The whole thing was about the size of a large apple.

"Aha! I've-ah…" The little robot cheered, only to pause when it realized his fingers caged around it, his face set in a stern expression.

"Who are you?" He asked slowly, his voice like the rocky depths of a slow-running river. "And what are you doing in my pod?"

"I'm a Ghost!" The Ghost proudly proclaimed, before drawing back shyly. "Well, I was hoping to be your Ghost, actually. I've been searching for you for a long time, and now I've finally found you! I did kinda expect you to be dead, though."

"And now that you know I'm still alive?" He arched an eyebrow in question.

The Ghost's shell whirled slowly in thought. "Well, most people are happy to be resurrected and given new powers, and the live ones usually agree, too. It's really up to you, I guess. Do you want to become a Guardian?" He thought he could detect hope in its eye.

"Guardian, eh? Is that like some sort of police force?"

"You could say that," the Ghost gave an approximation of a shrug, "Most Guardians are part of the Vanguard. They go out into the system and fight the forces of the Darkness."

The man sighed, scratching at his beard. "Another war, huh? Even after being asleep for so long, some things never change. Listen, little Ghost. I've been fighting since I was just an adult, and I'll be the first to admit that was a long time ago. I've seen enough war for a hundred lifetimes."

"You have experience," the Ghost replied, a note of pleading in its voice. "You could teach Guardians to fight; you wouldn't have to face the Darkness head-on, but we need everyone we can get!"

The man scratched at his chin, feeling a little bad for the small intelligence. "Let me tell you a story, Ghost. Maybe it'll help you understand." He rolled his neck, muttering under his breath, "I always heard old people love telling stories, so why not?"

My name is Saul Dewitt. I was born in 1992, in Washington. I had three sisters, one older and two younger, and when I turned eighteen, I joined the military. The Army, to be precise. By the time humanity discovered the Traveler on Mars in 2016, I had already seen a tour of duty.

By the time the Traveler made it to Earth, I was on my second tour. Well, to be more precise, I had been on my second tour, but was transported back to home due to injuries. One of my squad, an FNG, didn't check the wrong car for traps, and ended up setting off an IED. I managed to push him out of the way, but the shrapnel from the explosion took my right arm off.

The robotics we had at the time were considered the most advanced at the time, but the prosthetics were so slow and clumsy that they weren't rated as combat capable. Besides my military career, I had nothing else except for my family.

After I went under for the surgery to attach my new arm, I met…something. It was big, so large that I couldn't rightly describe the size of the presence. Still can't really. But I wasn't scared; it was warm and gentle, like the sun on a spring day. It spoke to me, asked me if I would Speak for it.

"Wait, wait, wait," the Ghost interrupted, "Are you saying The Traveler spoke to you?! It wanted you to be the first Speaker?"

The old man chuckled. "Don't read too much into it. It only spoke to me because I was knocked out. I know it asked a lot of other people in my position the same thing."

Anyway, I refused. I didn't know what it was or what it wanted, so I said 'no'. Gently, of course, I didn't want to be rude to this vast intelligence that somehow talked to me.

It took my refusal gracefully and left, and I woke up a bit later.

Without the military, I felt like I had no purpose. Every other job I took just felt meaningless, shallow and empty. I traveled all over America, searching for another purpose, living day by day and raising more and more hell every week I felt useless.

It came to a head three years after I lost my arm. That week had been particularly bad, and I tried to drown my sorrows as thoroughly as possible. I don't remember what happened next, but from what I was told, I apparently stumbled my way out of the bar and onto my motorcycle before anyone could stop me. I took off and a few minutes later, I crashed.

The accident took my left leg off, or crushed it enough that amputation was the only solution. So there I was, two limbs down and in a death spiral, when two people in uniform walked in my room. They laid an offer on the table; take a talented soldier who lost almost everything, replace his out-dated prosthetics with top-of-the-line combat-capable ones, and have him rejoin the military to work off the debt.

It only took me ten seconds to accept.

The next several years were the best and the worst simultaneously. With a new arm and leg, I got back into combat shape and shipped out as soon as possible. With all the advancements the Traveler brought and how benevolent it seemed, there were still several factions who hated it. They thought it was a shiny round Satan or the Antichrist, come to deceive us into its service, and they were getting violent, killing innocents or anyone who even said nice things about it.

It wasn't just two-sided, though. There were those who worshipped the Traveler, and others who decided to be cautious and take every advancement with a grain of salt. With my purpose given back to me by the advancements in robotics brought by the Traveler, I felt like I owed it, so I helped anyway I could.

During my years of service, I earned many nicknames, though my favorite was 'The Leper'. I wasn't called that for malicious reasons, but because I had this sixth sense for danger aimed at other people, and I always interfered in the only way I knew how: by throwing myself in front of them. It wasn't unusual for me to come back to base missing a hand or a leg. I ended up losing both of my other flesh-and-blood limbs, but I didn't mind. It made me faster and stronger and it was better than someone else dying.

With the human lifespan ever-increasing, it wasn't strange to see men and women over eighty in the armed forces, and I was no exception. But, by the time I reached my second century, after multiple tours with the Chinese, Russian and American Special Forces, as well as a few decades in the Expansion Forces, I realized that something was going on.

People my age, even with new technology, were dying of old age; but me? I was still in my prime. I hadn't slowed down one bit, and I didn't look any different than I did when I was fifty. Well, my hair did go grey, but that was it.

I simply figured I had good genes and tried to move on, going back to serve for a few decades and trying to relax; then, I hit three hundred.

At that time, all my sisters had married, had kids and died of old age. Their kids had children of their own and gotten old.

Me? Same as ever.

It got to the point that the bigwigs decided I should be studied to see just how I was still in my prime despite being over three hundred. I got poked and prodded, tested and tested until I was about ready to start killing things.

But then I met her. A leader in the field of Biotech, a prodigy and a Doctor at only a hundred. Amaryllis Blumfeld.

She was beautiful, cold and dangerous and enthralling, like a blizzard on Europa. Light green eyes, pale skin and silver hair. At first I was like everyone else, somewhat scared but entranced by her. But hours spent under a microscope and days of examinations make for a boring time, and we began to talk. Small things, at first, but it went deeper as we spoke more and more.

Under her cool exterior lay a woman with a love of life and a burning desire to understand the world as it is, was, and would be, who was awed by every new discovery. I told her about myself and we became friends, and I was sure after they discovered whatever it was inside me, she'd drop me like a dirty sock. But our relationship grew, and we became closer and closer. The little smiles she'd give me, or the way she'd look into my eyes as we talked, and the small touches she'd lay on me during the tests…honestly, it was the happiest I'd been in a long time.

Eventually, the day I began to fear the most came to pass: they figured out what was extending my life. Turns out, the day the Traveler visited me, all those years ago, it'd left a small shard of what they called 'Light' inside of me that grew as I got older. They'd just started delving into Luminescent technology and here I was, a living Light battery. Once I'd reached my prime, the Light inside me stopped my aging, kept my body fresh and at the peak.

I'd never tested the limits, but they theorised my lifespan had been effectively extended tenfold. At that time, I was the oldest man alive and would stay so until I died and someone else took the record.

Amaryllis walked me out the room I'd stayed in for what seemed to be years and despite how much I didn't like being a guinea pig, I didn't want to leave. It was with slow hands that I'd signed my discharge, but before I could turn away, she put a hand on my arm stopped me. "Wait a second, please?" she asked, and I couldn't refuse.

She seemed to perk up at that and quickly signed a few forms, to the dismay of the doctors and nurses in the facility, and I didn't figure out why until she slipped off her lab coat and left it on the counter, then took my hand and dragged me out of the facility.

She'd resigned her position to be with me and she wanted a date right then.

The years I spent with Amaryllis were the best times of my life. We had our stumbles and problems, everyone does, but we loved each other greatly. There was one issue that was the biggest threat: my age. I was nearing four hundred and she was only halfway through her second century; her parents and brother disapproved of our relationship, and privately, I always thought she could do better than an old man with robot arms and legs.

I remember the time I told her that, told her that maybe her parents were right. She scowled at me and pinched my nose. "If I listened to my parents all the time, I'd miserable. And I'll tell you what I told them when they 'suggested' I find someone else: I love. Who. I. Want. I want you, and I love you. I don't give a shit about your age and neither should you." She frowned and crossed her arms. "Now, I've been waiting ten years for you to ask me, but since you're too caught up with pointless quibbles, I'll do it."

Amaryllis pulled a small box out of her pocket and slid it along the table. When I reached out to touch it, the engram melted and reformed into a ring, a simple metal band with a small amaryllis carved into it.

"Marry me."

"I'm sorry, it's a nice story, but what does this have to do with you not wanting to fight?" the Ghost interjected, shaking Saul out of his memory.

"Oh, right. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "I got lost in my memories, I suppose."

After we were married, we traveled the system, visiting the new colonies and touring the new sights. We eventually settled down back on Earth, and though we never had kids, we were happy.

And then the rumors came. Pluto went dark except for a few panicked messages, then more and more colonies started getting attacked. For all our technology, we could only run and try to fight back. Eventually, it came down to just Earth.

And then we got the call to evacuate.

It wasn't a long ride to Russia, but it felt like years. So many cars cluttering the roads, so many crowds rushing towards the Cosmodrome. When we could go no further, we ditched the car and pushed our way to the nearest ship. Her brother was with us, his kids behind him, and we were all directed to a tram heading towards a ship farther back.

The crowd pressed on us and I could barely breath beneath the masses shoving and pushing and panicking. Somehow, in the giant, pulsing mess, I got separated from my wife and her brother.

I managed to make my way to ship I'd been directed to, and asked after Amaryllis and Andrew. He gave me a look at a passenger list and I saw that we'd been deliberately split up. As I pondered on fighting my way back out, a colony ship in the distance rose off the ground and ascended into the sky on a pillar of fire.

That was the ship they'd been on, them and the other 'very important persons'; that is to say, people still young and fertile, people who'd be best suited to having children and setting up a new colony on a distant planet. All the ships were headed for the same general area, so I wasn't worried as I was lead to my pod.

If I made it up there, I'd find her in time. If I didn't, as long as she was happy, I could die happy. The last thing I heard before I went to sleep was the technician trying to calm me down, despite already being calm.

He said, "When you wake up, you'll be in deep space. Or, if we're lucky, an entirely different world."

"…And then you woke me up," Saul finished, turning his sharp blue eyes on the Ghost. "I was content to sleep, knowing that Amaryllis would be happy somewhere else. And if what I'm hearing is right, this ship never made it off Earth, and it's been a very long time since then. Can you see why I'd rather stay?"

"…Not really," the Ghost replied, spinning its shell. "Could you really stay here without knowing what happened to her? The closure, if nothing else, would be worth it, I think."

Saul hummed, stroking his chin. "What if I discover that she died horribly, alone and in pain?"

It paused, then shrugged. "At least you'd know," it answered.

Do I really want to, though? He sighed tiredly. I do. "Alright, Ghost, you've convinced me. I can't really hide in here if there are people suffering when I could be helping…and I do want to find out what happened to Amaryllis. What do I need to do?"

The Ghost, his Ghost, spun in happiness. "Yes! Finally! You don't know how long I've been waiting to find you! You don't have to do anything, just stay there and don't change your mind, okay? This…might feel a little weird…"

It drifted towards him and dispersed with a quiet chime and a flurry sparks. Saul shivered as he felt a cool, liquid rush in his head. "That's…yes, a little weird. I feel like I just ate an entire pint of ice cream," He grumbled, rubbing his temple.

"Sorry, I did warn you," it replied in his head, "Just give me a second, I think I can open this from the inside. Oh wow, you have a lot of Light!"

"Allow me," Saul said calmly, reaching up and to the left, pressing on a small red handle labeled 'Emergency Release,' "I don't know about a lot, since I've never measured." Four red lights blinked in front of him, and he fixed his eyes on the top, then the bottom, then left and right, each light changing to green as he did so. Then another quartet of lights came on, this time lighting up small yellow buttons. He reached up and pressed them, then pulled on the Release handle as it popped out.

The pod door hissed and slowly flopped open, clanging against the metal strut of the support column. Frigid air rushed air and Saul sniffed, enjoying the scent of fresh air. He rolled himself out onto the door, his pod still in its place twenty feet from the ground, though one of three sheds was five feet below him. With a small push, he leapt from the pod and landed on the shed, stretching his arms and groaning.

"Feels good to finally stretch," he muttered, turning to look out through the ruined top of the colony ship. In the distance, he could see the rusted hulks of other ships, some collapsed to the ground and others standing as pillars of what the Cosmodrome once was. "Time has not been kind to Russia…"

"The Darkness hasn't been kind to anyone," his Ghost replied, "The Cosmodrome's been abandoned ever since the Collapse, and few patrols come out this way. That means we're on our own for transportation. Oh, I should make some armor for you!"

"You can do that?" Saul asked in surprise.

"Hold your hand up and push the cold feeling towards it," the Ghost directed. Saul did so and the little robot formed above his hand. "I only have the most basic designs, but they'll work until we can acquire some better ones. I have to use some of the material present. Is it alright if I use your pod?"

"Go ahead," he waved to it, looking over the numerous other pods still hanging from the supports. "Are there others still in stasis?"

"There are, but without the right medical equipment, we can't rouse them safely," his Ghost answered, shooting some sort of beam from his eye that dissolved the pod into a matter that it transferred to itself. "We can drop a request to the Vanguard, but they're focused on fighting the Darkness."

"And the pods are cold, sealed and self-sustaining, so anyone looking at them would think they're just large metal boxes," Saul nodded, "I don't like leaving them here, but it'll have to do for now."

The Ghost paused in its task, the shell flaring in embarrassment. "I forgot to ask, but what class do you want to be? Different classes use different armor, so…"

The old man tapped his chin in thought. "What are these 'classes'?"

"Hunter, Titan and Warlock," it answered, transmatting the last of the pod. "Hunters are typically scouts and wear light to medium armor. They can pack a strong punch, though. Titans fight on the front lines and wear heavy armor, and most see them as the defenders of The City. Warlocks are usually scholars, and mostly wear armored coats or robes, and know some of the most powerful techniques. A Voidwalker can wipe out an entire gaggle of Fallen with a Nova-bomb."

Saul chuckled, scratching his chin. "I was never much of scholar, despite Ryl's efforts, and scouting was never my style. I'm a soldier through and through. Guess I'm a Titan, then."

"Yup!" His Ghost chirped, diving towards him and dissolving. "Give me second to make your armor…there we go!"

There was a brief shimmer around his form, before a subtle flash of light shone, and his body was covered in armor. Saul patted himself down, stretching and flexing the armor and contours of his suit. "I won't lie, it's nice to wear armor again. Regenerative grenade dispenser, nice, plenty of ammo storage and thrusters." He rolled his arms and neck, then hopped, a quiet buzz sounding out as he hovered for a second. "Not as powerful as I'd like, but I can tweak them later. No weapons, though."

"Finding you was my first priority, keeping you alive was second. I should've loaded a few weapon schematics, though. I'll run a few scans and see if I can't find anything for you," his Ghost murmured in his head.

"I appreciate it," Saul replied, hopping down from the shed to the floor. He approached the collapsed doors that led to the lift, slipping his hands through the gaps and pulling them apart. The rusted metal groaning in protest, and he only managed to force them open enough that he would fit through by crouching; so he stepped back and spied the button to call the lift. "Too much to hope that the elevator still works?"

The long-unused engine guttered and groaned before dying with a mournful howl. "Seems like it," Ghost mused, "Are there any stairs?"

Saul ducked through the doors, looking down the elevator shaft and spying the platform far below. "I wouldn't bet on it," he replied, stepping off the ledge and plummeting down the shaft. He fired his thrusters in short bursts, cutting his momentum down significantly, but he still hit the platform hard. It squealed angrily under his feet, tilting sharply. He jumped for the walls of the shaft, latching onto a pipe a foot across just as the lift broke off entirely, tumbling down to crash into the floor.

"Guess I should look into losing weight," he quipped, adjusting his hold and sliding down the length of the pipe, jumping off and hitting the ground. Far above him, he heard something collapse, screeching metal echoing down the shaft. He shrugged. "I'll just bring a ship next time I visit."

Saul stepped out of the lift and entered a large room with a few floors, rusted supports tilted and fallen, the sound of water dripping echoing throughout. Before he could step down, a sudden scrabbling noise made him search the area. "Ghost? I thought you said this place was abandoned."

"It's supposed to be," his Ghost murmured. "Scanning…multiple lifesigns detected…it can't be…"

"Sounds fairly real to me," Saul replied tersely. "What is it?"

"Fallen lifesigns! A scouting party, maybe, but you have to get out of here! You don't have any weapons!" it urged.

He scanned the room, searching for a way out and his eyes fell on a pair of grates in the ceiling above a corner. Pulling himself up and on top of a power box, he reached his fingers through the grates and yanked down on it. With short jump Saul reached a vent, crouching and pulling the grating back up to cover his tracks.

Saul snuck through the ventilation until he came to a large room that housed a generator lying still, though there were a few boxes that looked like chests separated into piles. Each pile was marked with a card, none of them any of the royals. Shrugging, he hit the button on the first chest he could reach, which popped open and shone a bright golden light.

Inside the chest were a pair of golden octagonal shapes, with a small pile of shining blue cubes in between them. "Oh," the old soldier said aloud, "Engrams. Hopefully they have something we can use in them." He reached out and tapped them, Ghost dissolving both and storing them in his inventory.

"Saul, these are Exotic Engrams!" His Ghost exclaimed, "They hold some of the most powerful weapons and armor we know of!"

"Must've stumbled on someone's stash," Saul muttered, poking the pile of cubes tentatively. "What's this?"

"It's Glimmer, programmable matter. Most vendors use it as currency, these days." His little friend explained.

"Mm," he grunted, taking that as well. "Back in my time, we called it omni-matter. I'm guessing the Vanguard call it 'Glimmer' because it's shiny?"

He felt his Ghost give a mental approximation of a shrug as he opened the other chests, finding several more Engrams and Glimmer stashes. "From what I can read, these are encoded with different classes of armor. There seems to be a full set for a Titan, a Hunter and a Warlock." It hummed in thought. "Whoever stashed these put a lot of work into acquiring these."

"Finder's keepers," Saul said, opening the last chest and transmatting the last of the Engrams. "And if they want them back, they can fight us for them."

He moved on from the generator room, slipping through a corridor to another generator room, this one with even more chests stacked in it. "Who stashes this many Exotics?"

"An idiot," he replied shortly, pulling a Jack of Spades off of a big chest before tossing it aside and opening it. There was only one golden Engram inside, but it was surrounded on all sides by purple ones. Taking them all, he emptied the others of their contents, finding more cards on top of them. By the time he was finished, his inventory was getting very full. "Anything we can use?"

"Well, not…" his Ghost mumbled in embarrassment.

"What?"

"Not really! I can't decode Engrams, alright? We'd need to see a Cryptarch to use them…" it replied quickly, "Sorry."

"So, we've got a handful of powerful weapons and armor…that we can't use." Saul sighed, rubbing his forehead through his helmet. "Perfect. Well, if we die, we'll at least die wealthy. There are worse ways."

He pushed through a pile of rubble and crouched down to fit into a vent, following it to a sudden drop. Carefully sliding down, Saul moved on, pausing when he heard scuttling and echoing, metallic language. Sneakily, he continued far more slowly, following the vents until he saw sunlight reflecting off the metal and he heard wind whistling around him.

Saul stuck his head out of the vent and whistled. A huge hole several feet across had been torn out of the hull, small piles of snow forming around the jagged metal lining the gap like teeth. Looking down, he could see the bipedal forms of lanky creatures scuttling about, chittering at one another. They wore piecemeal armor and carried small arms, spiked bronze pistols and short knives sparking with energy. They seemed to have multiple eyes and wore breathing masks, searching among the ruins of the ship for loot and scrap.

He ducked back into the vent as a ship, long and insect-like with a large square head, hovered into the gap, arms folding out from the bottom to drop more Fallen inside. "I think you're going to have to hitch a ride," his Ghost said, "Unless you want to fight through all the Fallen or jump out of the hole?"

Saul snuck out of the vent and onto a metal strut that creaked quietly. "I'd rather catch a ride," he replied, creeping along the strut until he reached the end a few feet above the ship. He pushed off, jumping onto the back just as the skiff pulled away. He slid along the back, hands desperately scrabbling for a hold before his fingers dug into a bundle of tightly-wound wires. The old soldier clung to the handhold like a limpet, anchoring his feet to the hull.

He rode it down and away from the colony ship, passing over the rusted hulks of boats and buildings, the ocean water glittering in the sun and shining off the snow. Sparse, tough vegetation sprouted in between the snow and the skeletons of cars, including some silvery plant that sparkled invitingly.

His ride came to an end as the skiff hovered to a stop near a short cliff face, the arms clicking as they shifted to disgorge more Fallen. "This is the last stop," his Ghost warned. "Those are the last of the amount a skiff can hold. It'll be going back to the nearest Ketch, and that would be worse than it is currently. Just so you know."

"I still don't have any weapons," Saul reminded it, standing up on top of the skiff and crouching.

"I'm familiar enough with your Light now that I can unlock a few Titan abilities, namely the Flashbang Grenade and Storm Fist. Now you're not entirely defenseless, right?" It said with enthusiasm.

"I can work with that," he nodded, sprinting off the back of the skiff just as it began to lift off. Leaping from the back, Saul hit the dirt hard, even with his thrusters firing. His inertia pulled him back over the edge of the cliff, his boots finding purchase in the stern rock face. He pressed himself against the rock, the chittering of Fallen drifting down to him. "They'll have heard that."

"You weren't exactly quiet," his Ghost replied with a mental shrug.

Saul pulled a flashbang from his belt and hit the timer, clenching his other hand into a fist and watching the blue energy cackle around his knuckles. "I was never one for subtlety," he shrugged, tossing the grenade overhead, pausing for a second before launching himself up after it.

He cleared the cliff face just as the flashbang detonated,a wave of light washing over him and four Fallen. They screeched and vainly covered their faces, stumbling about blindly as Saul landed next to the first and punched it in the face. Electricity arched off his knuckles, consuming the Fallen in a shower of sparks even as the body limpy flew through the air.

Dashing up to the second, he drove his fist into its side and seized it around the neck, locking its left arm with his own and enveloping its right hand, locking its fingers around the trigger of its bronze, spiky pistol. It discharged in a burst of energy, firing blue bolts that spun through the air and sank into the chest of the third Fallen, dropping it.

The one in his grasp flailed and slashed at his face with the knife in its left hand, so Saul shifted his grip, yanked the gun away from it and clubbed it over the head, yanking the knife away as he did so. The last Dreg, seeing its' compatriots fate, turned and scrambled away, hooting in alarm and firing wildly over its shoulder.

Saul stomped on the second Fallen's back, switching his grip on the knife and hurling it at the last. The blade pierced through its back up to the hilt, and it gave a cry before collapsing. With the survivor struggling under his boot, Saul turned and emptied the last rounds of the pistol into its head, which burst in a cloud of light and a shriek of escaping air.

He hummed, twirling the gun on his finger. The grip was ill-fitting in his hand, but at least the trigger was bereft of a guard. "Ugh," his Ghost muttered, "Shock pistols. I'll keep scanning, see if I can't find you a real weapon."

"A weapon's a weapon," Saul chuckled, breaking up the action and discarding the spent energy cell, slotting a fresh one in from the corpse of the Fallen. "It'll do for now."

He kicked over the rest of the bodies and was surprised when their weapons lost shape and turned into light green cubes the size of a large book. "I'm breaking them down into universal secondary ammunition blocks for you. I can't pick them up, so you'll have to walk over them." His Ghost explained at his curious hum.

"You're handy to have around, Ghost," he murmured, stepping over the bodies and onto the blocks. "Should I keep calling you 'Ghost', or do you have a name?"

"Well, I'm your Ghost, so whatever name you want is fine," it replied happily, "Until you can think of one, Ghost will work."

"Alright, then," Saul grunted, climbing a small hill to overlook the area. It was much the same as he'd seen from the skiff, a few rusted buildings nearby, and the bulk of a giant wall in the distance. What did draw his attention was the small lake or large pond nearby, the still water shining in the snow and sunlight. He set off at a slow jog, coming to waters' edge in a few minutes and kneeling by it, looking down at his reflection.

What looked back at him was a featureless steel-colored helm, the top swept back and curved in an oddly graceful way. The armor plates covering his chest were thick and sturdy, with the numbers 10201 embossed in the middle.

With armor-encased hands, he reached up and gently twisted the helm, pulling it off and exposing his face to cold Russian air. What looked back at him from the water was the same face he'd seen for hundreds of years, ever since he'd been fifty.

His hair was not as short as he'd kept it when he was younger, but very manageable and platinum grey, edged with white. His beard was the same, framing cheeks that were barely wrinkled, with the exception of deep laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. His eyes were edged with light blue with grey depths, cold and sharp but capable of great warmth.

If one shaved off his beard and cut his hair a bit shorter, they'd see a man no older than thirty, which was part of the reason he'd grown it out in the first place. Plus, he'd really enjoyed the sensation of his wife's fingers running through it.

With a sigh, he deposited the helm next to him, the dipped his cupped hands in the icy water. He brought it up to his face and paused. "This won't make me sick, will it?" Should've thought of that before.

"Oh no, I can filter out any toxins before they affect you, it's fine," his Ghost assured him. "Not that Guardians need to drink, though. Or eat. Or sleep, but they tend to go crazy after a week straight, which is why it's the law that a Guardian can't stay awake for more than six days in a row."

"Most of their biological functions are replaced by Light, then?" Saul grunted, drinking from his hands and shivering slightly at the veins of ice spreading from his stomach. He shook himself and dipped his hands again, taking another drink and splashing himself in the face. "I can see the efficiency in it, but I can't say I like it. I might not need it anymore, but I'm still going to drink and eat."

"There are plenty of Guardians who do," Ghost replied with a mental shrug, "Some of the Vanguard look down on it, though. They see it as a waste of time and resources."

"I'm very good at not listening to people I don't care about," he said, splashing his face once more before donning his helm, "Have your scans found anything?"

Ghost hummed. "A few weak ones; I don't know if they'll pan out, but they're worth a look. Marking the closest for you now." A white diamond appeared on Saul's HUD, pointing him to a shed fifty meters away and pulsing gently.

"Appreciate it." He stuck the shock pistol to his magnetic thigh holster and set off at a quick jog, his long legs and stride eating the distance at a good pace. He came to a stop outside of the shed, which was the size of a small house. Peering at the faded and chipped characters near the broken-down door, he could read the word 'Security'. "Might've been a perimeter outpost back then."

"Are you going to say all your thoughts out loud?" Ghost wondered.

"Only when I'm working alone," Saul admitted, shouldering a fallen support out of his way. "It makes it feel less solitary to talk aloud. I try not to in a squad, though."

"I'm here!" it chirped, "You can talk to me!"

The old soldier chuckled. "I'll try," he said, stopping as the tip of his boot landed on a skeletal arm with a dry snap. It was severed from the rest of the body at the shoulder, by the edges of a large metal locker that was lying on its front. "I wouldn't want to be that guy," Saul muttered, crouching and digging his fingers through the worn concrete. It helped that it been cracked by the locker falling over and hundreds of years of erosion.

He gave a quiet grunt as he heaved the locker onto its side, revealing the remains of a human beneath. It only amounted to a flat, severely broken skeleton, like a flower that had been pressed. "At least it was quick," his Ghost offered.

"That's about all you can say when it comes to being flattened," Saul grunted, yanking the locker door open. Decayed scraps of a uniform and protective gear spilled out, along with the aged forms of a rifle and a sidearm. He picked the rifle up, clearing the debris from the it and giving it a rough clean. "Ah, the Khvostov series. Simple, reliable and effective. I bet I only need to give this a basic cleaning and it'll work just like new. I doubt the bullets still work, though."

The rifle dematerialized along with the pistol, and the rusted magazines shifting into small white blocks that dissolved at a touch. "I'll get them cleaned up for you," his Ghost chimed in. "Though, I thought Golden Age technology was more advanced than this?"

"It's rather basic, yes, but it was cheap, reliable and easy to clean," Saul replied with a shrug, "Sure, you could buy a gun that shoots bolts of plasma, but why spend a lot of money when you can get something that's just as effective for half the cost? And less ostentatious?"

"I guess so," Ghost mumbled as the old Guardian stood up. There was a brief shimmer before the rifle coalesced into his hands, a magazine helpfully loaded into it already. Saul racked a shot into the chamber and aimed down the sights. "Like it?"

"Feels good to have a familiar gun in my hands," he commented, slinging it over his shoulder and locking it into the magnetic holster on his back. "Thanks, Ghost. How do I draw different weapons from my inventory, though?"

"Just think about it and I'll pull them out for you," it replied helpfully, "I am in your head, you know."

"Right," Saul thought of the human pistol and felt its weight in his hand a second later. He checked the magazine, then drove it home and racked the slide. Giving it a playful little twirl, he moved the shock pistol to his left thigh holster while placing the sidearm in the right. "Armed and ready."

"Now that we've got weapons, we should look into getting to the Tower," his Ghost advised. "I've been running a few scans, and I think-"

A series of gunfire exchanges rang out, followed by an explosion. Saul rushed outside in time to see a thin, knife-like ship colored blue and orange shriek overhead, trailing fire and smoke before it clipped a hill and slammed into the ground. It skidded on its belly, leaving a gouge of upturned earth behind it before grinding to a halt at the edge of the large pond.

"That's a Phaeton-class Jumpship!" Ghost gasped, "Another Guardian's in trouble!"

Saul was already sprinting for the downed ship, even as a pair of Fallen ships circled overhead. Wreckage lined the trail behind it, a turbine from the fuselage rolling away and burning merrily. Parts of the hull had been shorn off or bent wildly, exposing the machinery underneath. A long hatch at the top shuddered and sparked as it tried and failed to open, weak, panicked taps ringing from inside.

Saul jumped on top of the wreck, bracing his feet and plunging his hands between the hatch, pushing mightily against the door and managing to open it up halfway. A hand emerged from within, followed by a head covered by a rounded helm with a rectangular visor, then by a torso bearing something like an armed longcoat, all colored blue and black.

The Warlock dragged themselves out of the hatch and crawled along the hull, painfully dumping themselves on the ground below. Saul released the hatch and jumped down, landing next to them and kneeling. He could see by the way the jacket hugged her chest and waist that she was female, and that the jagged pieces of metal sticking through her torso were probably not very healthy.

"Hold on, I'll try to get you some medical help," he managed, cradling the Warlock's head. She gurgled and reached up to him, before falling limp in his arms. He sighed, setting her on the ground and crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn't even know her," he murmured, startled by the appearance of her Ghost, the diamond covering spread and a shell of light swirling around the eye.

"Go ahead and feed it some Light," his Ghost said calmly. "It'll help speed up the resurrection."

Saul had already held out a hand to the disassembled Ghost when he actually heard what his had said. "Wait, resurrection?"

The body at his feet faded into nothing, just as the other Ghost pulsed and spun together, a brief flash of light shining before constructing the outline of a body in a second. That was then filled with the actual body and the Warlock fell a foot, regaining her balance and standing tall, completely fine.

"…What." Saul uttered flatly.

The Warlock shook her head and spluttered. "Why does my mouth always taste like coconut after a revive?" She wondered aloud, before focusing on the old soldier, who was blatantly staring at her. "What? Never seen a Guardian revive before?"

"No," he replied with the same tone. "Guardians can come back from the dead?"

"Yes," his Ghost replied obviously. "I did say most Guardians are brought back from the dead, right?"

"I thought it was a one time thing…" Saul muttered, scratching at his chin.

The Warlock gasped theatrically, bringing her hands up to her face. "Oh my Sol! You're a rookie Guardian!" She paused in her excited bouncing to touch her chin in thought. "You have a really deep voice for a rookie, though."

"Yeah, I just became one today," he replied, holding his hand out. "My name is Saul, Saul Dewitt."

She took it excitedly. "Hi, Saul! I'm Keira-9, Sunsinger Warlock extraordinaire!" Keira chirped cheerfully, before her eyes caught on her wrecked ship. "Oh hell, Holiday's gonna throw me off the Tower! I just got that ship yesterday, and I wrecked it on my first flight! I just wanted to do a quick Patrol of the Cosmodrome since it's abandoned and no one comes here, but the Fallen ambushed me and shot me down!"

"And they're still in the area," he added, jacking a thumb at the ship, "And that thing's basically a beacon."

They both looked skyward as a a skiff skimmed overhead. "Yeah, we should get out of here," Keira muttered, summoning her Ghost to the palm of her hand. Now that it wasn't waiting to revive the Warlock, Saul could see that it had a pink shell. "Cherry! We need to find a ship!"

"Me and the noob's Ghost collaborated and we found a faint signal," it replied in a husky, feminine voice, "It's about half a klick that way." A marker appeared on their HUD pointing south.

"There's no vehicle grid set up, either, so I can't use my Sparrow," Keira muttered as they set off at a run. The skiff overhead fired off a couple of shots at their back, but more to make sure they left quickly, as they were more interested in the ship.

Even though she wore lighter armor, the Warlock found herself falling behind as Saul's longer stride and greater speed took him ahead. She pushed herself even harder to try and catch up, but it was all for naught. She didn't have the excuse of being scholar for her lack of speed, either, since Guardians could sprint straight out for days without ever running out of breath or getting tired; one of the benefits of being pretty much immortal.

They crested a hill and came to a stop, looking down at the corpses of larger ships that had been taken apart. The marker hovered over a half-collapsed warehouse leaning drunkenly against the cliff face, pulsing softly. Off in the distance, they could make out the small forms of Fallen looting whatever tech they could find. "We should probably hurry before more of them show up," said the Warlock, "These are just scouting parties, and we're not equipped for dealing with the bigger, better-armed ones."

Saul nodded and launched himself off the hill, firing small bursts from his thrusters to speed him along. Keira sighed and jumped after him, gliding down slowly and falling behind again. The Titan approached the ruined warehouse at a sprint, charging through the rusted metal doors and barely slowing down. His eyes found the source of the signal quickly, an old jumpship covered by the wreckage of the building, the nose poking out and pointing at him.

"An Arcadia-class," he said approvingly, "as far as ships go, they're not the prettiest, but they're tough."

Keira came through the door a second later, skidding to a stop next to him. "Traveler! Why are you so fast?" She fixed on the ship before he could answer. "Oh great, a ship!"

Saul summoned his Ghost and sent it out, making his way towards the ship as the Warlock did the same. "She still working?" He asked.

"She's in bad shape, but she'll fly," his Ghost assured, even as he and Cherry hovered around it, hitting it with their eye-beams. "We've got Fallen incoming!"

Saul drew his rifle and took cover behind a fallen pillar, before he saw Keira rushing towards the door even as the lanky forms of the Fallen burst through it. She punched the first in the face and it dissolved into flames, even as her body was lit up with a shield. The Warlock didn't even bother to draw a weapon, instead dealing out punishing punches and kicks that rippled with energy as they moved through the air.

Letting her take the attention, the old soldier began to pick off the Fallen that tried to back away from the Warlock, firing short bursts into their unprotected heads. A chorus of shrieks sang out as the white mist inside of them escaped; and with the two Guardians working together, they made short work of the scouting party.

"Yeah! That's right, this Warlock just kicked your ass!" Keira jumped out of the door, cheering. "Who else wants…some…"

She turned around and ran back towards him, waving her arms above her head in panic. "What is it?" Saul asked, right as she blew passed him.

"Archon!" she squealed, but instead of booking it for the ship that was rumbling under the debris, Keira slid behind a chunk of metal, a sniper rifle appearing in her hands.

The wall exploded inwards as a giant figure, easily fifteen feet tall, rushed through and brandished a large, quad-barreled gun that had small tongues of flame licking at the barrels. It stomped and threw its head back, roaring in rage.

Unlike the lightly-armored Dregs, this Fallen had four arms and wore thick, white armor plating including a helm with breathing hose hanging from the chin. It flinched back as a round from Keira impacted its forehead and Saul opened fire.

The Archon growled something in its dark, snarling language and shot at them, the flaming weapon disgorging burst of projectiles from all barrels that exploded upon impact. The ruins of the building groaned threateningly and trembled.

"We need to leave!" Saul called, the giant Fallen ignoring his bullets bouncing off the energy shield that enveloped it. "This building can't take much more!"

"Stun it!" Keira shouted, lobbing a handful of Solar energy at it. The grenade latched onto the Archon's armor and exploded, depleting its shield and leaving a black scorch mark on its right arms. It roared at them, only to flinch minutely as a blue cylinder bounced off its face.

It detonated with a deafening bang and a blinding flash, leaving the Archon reeling. Keira leaped into the air, her body engulfed in purple energy that coalesced into a swirling ball in her hand that she launched at the Fallen. It hit and exploded with great force, leaving lavender cinders that drifted on the air.

It was peaceful for a second, before the Archon stood back up, its legs shaking but roaring furiously.

The jumpship shuddered and rose, engines coughing but burning strong. "We're in business!" Saul's Ghost called triumphantly. "Let's get out of here!"

Saul shuddered as he was transmatted into the pilot's chair. "A little warning next time," he commented calmly, even as he grasped the yoke and pushed it forward. The ship shuddered as it clipped the Archon's head before it was in the air and flying away from Old Russia. "Hope that killed it."

"I'd like to think so, but unless you want to turn around and check, I doubt it," his Ghost replied with a shrug. "I've got the coordinates for the Tower loaded into the autopilot, and it'll be an hour before we get there. Why don't we check on our new passengers?"

"Why not?" Saul muttered, standing from the chair and making his way into the belly of their new ship. Keira sat on a dusty seat, clutching her chest and panting while her pink-shelled Ghost berated her.

"I told you not to switch Sub-Classes mid-combat like that!" It shouted, zapping the side of her head with an eye-beam. "You think that hurts you?! I'm made out Light! It's three times worse for me!"

"I know, I'm sorry!" The Warlock wailed, "I forgot! I won't do it again!"

"Damn right you won't!" Cherry sighed, shuddering a bit before dissipating.

Saul laid a hand on her shoulder. "You alright?"

She turned to look up at him smiled, or got close as she could, since she didn't have any lips. Her skin was dark blue with black sections, and her eyes were a deep, hellish red with her tongue being the same color. She didn't have any teeth, lips or cheeks and her appearance would generally be called 'robotic.' "I'm fine," Keira said cheerfully, though her voice was strained.

"You're an Exo-Frame," the soldier realised aloud.

"Yeah, I'm an Exo," she nodded, frowning slightly. "That's not a problem, is it? I can't see your face, so I can't tell."

"Why would I?" Saul shrugged, "You're a person, who cares if you're robotic? Most of the Exo-Frames I knew usually had skin, though."

"Really?" Keira sat up in interest. "I haven't ever seen anyone else like that, not even Banshee and he's the oldest Exo I know!"

The old soldier reached up to run a hand through his hair, only to pause when he realized his helm was still on. It dissolved before he could even think about it, so he continued the action. "From what I've seen of the world, I doubt any of the fabricators still work, or are needed for more important things."

The Warlock peered up at him with narrowed eyes. "Wow, you're really old!" She enthused, hopping up and leaning close to him, poking at his beard. "I've never seen a Guardian with naturally grey hair before!"

Ladies love the beard, Saul chuckled. "Well, don't let it fool you. I'm still in my prime, I just look old."

"You definitely run faster than me, that's for sure," she agreed, stepping back, clasping her hands in front of her and bouncing excitedly. "I can't believe I got to meet a Rookie Guardian! This is so much more exciting than I thought my Patrol would be! Though, I did lose my ship…"

"I'm sure you can get another soon," he said comfortingly. "In the meantime, you can use this one while I start my search."

Keira looked up at that. "Search? What're you searching for?"

Saul waved at the world outside the ship. "Before all this, my wife was launched on a colony ship; and even though it's been a long time, I want to find out what happened to her." He shrugged and scratched his head. "I figured I could help out against this Darkness while I put out some feelers."

"Aww," the Warlock said, her eyes shining, "That's so sweet! And romantic! It makes my goal look kinda silly, actually."

"I wouldn't say that," the Titan disagreed gently. "What is it?"

She drew herself up, balling her hands into fists and putting on her hips, opening her mouth to loudly declare, "To not be bored anymore!"

Saul blinked. "Okay, maybe you can say that," he scratched his head. "I'm sure there are plenty interesting things to discover out in the system."

Keira nodded slowly, putting a finger to her chin in thought. "Yeah, I guess so…But…"

"But what?" He asked.

"I could come with you!" she cheered, "We could go on adventures together, watching each other's backs and kicking ass! We could be a Fireteam! Though, Fireteams usually have three people…"

Saul twisted his mouth in thought. "I don't see why not; I do prefer working together." He shrugged, before the excitable Warlock crushed him in a hug.

"Yay!" Keira cheered, lifting Saul an inch off the ground and bouncing with him. "This is going to be so much fun! At least I think it is, I've never been on a Fireteam before."

"It'll be a new experience for the both of us," he agreed with a small smile, "It might be a while before we go anywhere, though. I need to talk to whoever's in charge and register or whatever it is to become a Guardian."

The Exo Warlock giggled, "I can't wait to show you around the Tower! You can meet Ikora, and Cayde and Zavala, and Amanda and Banshee and Tess!"

Well, at least I won't get bored, Saul mentally shrugged. "That sounds fine, Keira. But first," he tapped her arms still wrapped tightly around him, "Can you put me down?"

…

…

…

…

A/N: And bam, there you go! My first Destiny story, featuring, as ever, Saul Dewitt; though, you might've noticed he's a bit different now. Still dry and sarcastic, but much more experienced and wise, and previously married! It helps if you think of his voice like Sam Fisher's voice, or Michael Ironside if you want to be specific.

Kurogane7: Michael Ironside should be THE Sam Fisher voice yo!

I even did a little bit of world-building, too, adding a small thing here or there to make a bit more sense. At least, sense to me.

Also, that stash in the colony ship belonged to Cayde, it's one of his secret stashes. He did say 'Exotics' in the dialogue, so I took that and ran with it a bit, while also making a bit of joke at the people who write stories about Destiny or Borderlands where they give the MC a super-Exotic at the beginning. In this case, he has them but can't use them, and also has to give most of them up later.

And I introduced you to Keira-9, Exo Warlock and holy shit I just realized she's like Pinkie Pie. That was not on purpose, I assure you. I guess I just have a fondness for excitable characters, what can I say?

Kurogane7: You sure you're not turning Brony, bro?

No!

And shut up.

She makes up the second part of the Fireteam, with the third being a Hunter introduced next chapter; that is, if this story is chosen in the poll. If you want to see more of this, make sure to vote!

I hope you enjoyed and as always, big thanks to NorthSouthGorem and Kurogane7 for editing and all that good Glimmer. Why not give them a look and find yourself losing hours?

Kurogane7: Cheers. And props to Sol.

Stay Awesome.

~Soleneus

P.S.: What's your favorite Exotic, if you play Destiny? Mine is the Twilight Garrison, it's super useful if you know how to use it.

Also, still got that Twitter, Pa treon and Deviantart business if you're interested.

Stay Awesome Some More.

~still Soleneus