Sorry about the wait, I've really been terrible with updating for the past few months. I've also made one or two changes to the previous chapter, in so far as this is where Windsor-2's name is properly revealed. Enjoy!

The journey across the Cosmodrome was made with all due haste and as much stealth as could be mustered. Their destination, according to this man, was a section of heavily reinforced Wall he'd yet to see.

The other Guardian darted ahead, his feet treading on the ground much lighter than his own. Whereas despite his best efforts he could still hear the crunch of boots in snow, his compatriot was impossibly quiet, as if he were walking on air.

"Testing, testing, one, two, three?" Came crackling static of the other Guardian's voice, encrypted over short-range radio.

"I hear you. Thank you for helping me out." Dimitri gave a grateful little salute.

"It's no trouble. Can't leave newbies running around by themselves, it would be damned irresponsible." His new friend metaphorically handwaved that away.

"God, he sounds like he's fresh off his mum's tits." The Hunter's Ghost muttered with disgust and disapproval.

"Is that your Ghost?" The young man gingerly asked. He'd so many questions that needed answering, but he kept in mind how easy it was to get on other's nerves and thus kept his inquiries to a minimum.

"Yes, his name is Reginald and he shouldn't be on this line." There was interference with the connection for a moment, like someone putting the phone down to deal with issues on the other end. "Sorted. Where did you resurrect, chum?"

"My Ghost brought me back just beyond the wall, on the highway."

"On the highway? Bloody hell, you'd have had to fight your way through the Wall. No wonder the Fallen knew where you were..."

"The Wall is their stronghold?"

"Oh yes. Been that way for a while now, Riksis is a canny bugger. He actually understands strategy and tactics which is a damnable shame."

"That's where the ship is?" Dimitri felt his chest tighten.

"Correct again, alas. Don't worry though, people who last more than five minutes after rising out here aren't half bad. If we get you to the City, you'll go far." The Hunter encouraged him. In a situation like this, the last thing the lad needed was demoralization.

"Really?" Blinking in surprise, the inexperienced Guardian was unsure what to make of that.

"Yes indeed." His escort confirmed.

"Oh…thank you."

"Save it for later."

They darted through rusting buildings to keep cover, constantly alert. And with good reason, for Skiff patrols and exceedingly large, bulbous, spider like vehicles with massive guns on their top swept through the area on patrol.

Inside what seemed to be a small office block, the Hunter called them to a halt. Dimitri did as he was told without question, knowing his survival likely rested on doing just that.

"What is it?" He whispered.

"There's a lot of them and I don't want us to be detected here." His friend answered, quickly and quietly peaking at the outside world through a broken window.

During this moment of laxity, the Russian couldn't help but feel envious of the other Guardian's armour. It looked so much more advanced, strong and reliable, whilst his own seemed to be expertly crafted paper mache.

What's he wearing? He telepathically inquired.

His Ghost, having sat dormant for a while, gave the Hunter a quick once over. "A very fine set of Hunter Armour. Designed entirely to be lightweight and allow maximum freedom of movement. It's got the colours of the Future War Cult…give me a moment." The little machine ran through its database as fast as it could. "Cover of no Tomorrows…that's his helmet, only the War Cult make that. A Sinaa Lamprey 1.0, chest piece, heavily modified. Same model for his gauntlets and leg armour. The cape is nothing special, but it seems well worn. All in all, an experienced and well-equipped Guardian."

We lucked out with this one, didn't we?

"Please don't say that. We just finished our run of bad luck, don't want to start another."

"It'll take a while for them to move by. We'll stay here for a few minutes." The Hunter quietly sat down, waving his hand for his charge to do the same. Letting his legs fold in on themselves, the younger Guardian could feel the vibrations of Fallen heavy armour stomping past.

Dear God, what a monster.

"It's called a Walker. The Fallen use them as tanks, or something close to it."

Tanks? Wouldn't want to see a division of those coming at me.

"…be thankful the Devils don't have those anymore."

What? Divisions, are you serious!?

"Yes. About three hundred of them nearly smashed through our lines at Twilight Gap…"

"Goodness gracious, how rude of me." The more experienced Guardian tutted, as if he'd forgotten something simple. "I haven't asked your name. Who are you?"

"Oh…um…my name is Dimitri. Dimitri Mendevev." The young man in question stammered, taken aback by this politeness.

"Windsor-2. Exo Hunter extraordinaire, great and glorious pain in the Fallen's arse, and the best marksman this side of the Caucasus at your service." "Windsor" offered a hand.

"Damn good to meet you, Windsor-2." Dimitri took his hand and shook it gratefully. After all, he owed his new life to this man.

"A pleasure to meet you too, Mendevev." Windsor-2 relinquished his grasp.

They stayed that way for a while, sitting in silence, waiting for the opportunity to move again. In the meantime, the Russian's curiosity had been piqued. He'd initially dismissed the thought as preposterous, but then that strong, near mechanical grip convinced him, especially on top of that simply word.

Exo.

"You're an Exo." A tingle shot up Dimitri's spine.

"Yes? And? Can't be that mythical." Windsor chuckled.

"No, I mean…I thought you were just a theory. Transferring a human soul into a frame…Clovis Bray bragged about it but I never believed…" The younger Guardian bit his tongue when the cloaked warrior slowly fixed him with a stare.

"How the hell do you know who Clovis Bray are?" The Hunter's electronic voice was low but not dangerous.

"How can I not? Their merchandise was everywhere, half my friends wanted to go and work for them, and they were financing colonies. At least…in my time." Dimitri frowned, ruminating on just how much time had passed. Clovis Bray would be a name only ardent historians of this age knew, even then it would be a shaky sort of knowledge.

"My God…you're from the Collapse." Windsor's mechanical jaw dropped. "You've been asleep for a long time, Mendevev. Don't let Master Rahool know, he won't stop bombarding you with questions."

"Yeah, I feel like it…who's Master Rahool?"

"Sort of like a Magical Space Archaeologist. Too curious for his own good in my opinion, not to mention a bit boring, but a nice chap all the same."

The child of long lost Russia nodded, not quite understanding. Before he could press the matter however, the elder Guardian inched his head upwards to look out the broken window. Snatching a quick look at the Fallen, he darted back down.

The enemy had almost finished their sweep. Whilst he'd little doubt he could take the Walker and its entire escort of troops, Windsor didn't want to risk Dimitri.

Young Guardians needed to have time to train and adjust to this strange new world. To throw them instantly into combat was downright irresponsible as far as he was concerned.

They continued to wait whilst the Eliskni heavy platoon finished its patrol. The House of Devils had a strange sort of discipline, one brought about by its zealotry and fanaticism. Even without a Kell and half their numbers being lost at Twilight Gap, they were formidable as ever.

Eventually, the insectoid aliens vanished around a corner. The sound of marching Fallen and a stomping Walker finally faded, leaving Windsor and Dimitri alone.

"If they weren't Devils, I'd be worrying about a few Dregs lagging behind." Reginald mused.

Hmm...sounds clear. Windsor hummed.

"Are you sure?"

Yes. Now shut up and let me concentrate.

"Love you too, cum stain."

"They've moved on, let's go." He gestured for them to continue their sprint. His charge gingerly nodded, then carefully and quietly moved out from cover with him.

They shifted uncomfortably, giving thanks to their Machine Mothers they were not the focus of their charge's wrath. The Archon's Guard felt nothing but sympathy for their brethren who escaped "the Windsor's" onslaught, knowing these sorry survivors had something infinitely more terrifying to face: Archon Riksis himself.

What they stood guard around in this room, illuminated by a shaft of light through the ceiling, was a throne made of skulls both human and alien. The one who sat upon it scowled down upon all beneath him.

Riksis was among the largest Fallen alive, having lived for thousands of years, being spirited away as a child from burning Eliksis so long ago. With enough ether an Eliksni could theoretically live forever, this one hoping to prove that theory correct.

With his horned helm on his head, and scorch cannon leaning against his throne, Riksis was a frightening sight for anyone sane. A sickening crack echoed throughout the room as his enraged hand crushed one of the throne's skulls.

Not even looking at a favoured treasure, the ship of a Guardian ripped down from the sky, would alleviate his wrath. The failure of his subordinates in bringing him the head of a young "Wolf-thief" was absolute and unforgiveable, enough to tempt him to order their deaths.

In front of the Archon stood his Barons. The hierarchy of the House of Devils didn't usually meet, only rarely would they all come together. With Aksis delving into secrets that many Fallen felt he shouldn't, this placed Riksis in temporary command of the House.

It was still a balancing act with the four Barons of course, his strength, size and intelligence only just keeping them in order. He had to, for their allegiance faltering could bring the House down.

Above them all, was their Grand Machine Mother: Sepiks Prime. Servitors was what the Thieves called them, robotic beings which produced ether, the very lifeblood of his race. What they thought to be simply another tool of survival.

How little they know...they're our mothers. They love us dearly, regardless of our rank, and so we do the same in return. The Fallen Archon inwardly snarled.

"Gildeks should consider himself fortunate. I would tear him limb from limb if he was before me now." Riksis growled in the pre-historic tongue of the Eliksni.

"To be fair, Archon, Gildeks paid for it with his life." Taliks chirped.

"Indeed. Now however, we must attend to the selection of a new Baron. I believe Captain Raksis would be most apt for the position-" Baron Maliks advised, only for Riksis to glower at him.

"No. We must deal with the Thieves who have slighted our House. Every dead Guardian is another step to the destruction of their wretched hive."

Maliks forced down a sigh, having long abandoned trying to teach Riksis complex strategy. "That is true, Archon. But there are no Houses capable of toppling the Thieves and reclaiming the Great Machine at this moment. We barely scratch out an existence in these wastes, Winter skulks on Venus hoarding knowledge at the mercy of the Reef and the Ishtarians, Scars are a roving band of thugs, Rain hides behind Kings on the moons of Saturn, Judgement kowtows to that Queen, and Wolves is shattered and leaderless. If we are to have any hope of survival, let alone reclaim what the Whirlwind took, we must consolidate and plan."

"Do not lecture me on our position, Maliks!" Riksis barked. "You were not at Twilight gap, I was. I know the strength of their defences. However...our Thieves aren't currently behind their walls. The young wolf has no way to escape my domain and no doubt the Windsor will refuse to abandon him. So we shall avenge our comrade's death, then see to matters of succession."

"And what does our Grand Machine Mother think?" Baron Sorsiks gazed up at the great sphere covered in armour, save for its eye. It glowed a peaceful blue, betraying a benevolent nature.

"I wish for Gildeks to be avenged, but not for any more of my children's lives to be thrown away." It said, sadness in its synthetic tone.

"Then no more shall be lost. Locate them, then pound them from the skies. A squadron of Skiffs should be more than enough for that." The Archon nodded at his Barons. "Do not fail me."

"Thy will be done, Archon!" The Barons bowed, then briskly walked away.

"That's a hell of a lot of movement...are those-" Windsor-2 stopped mid-sentence, squinting through the scope of his rifle. Four massive figures were crossing the open, snow covered field in front of the Devils' stronghold. The hundred or so scattered Fallen on guard duty dropped to their knees as they passed, on their way to four Skiffs which had recently landed.

"What? What is it?" Dimitri crawled up next to him on his belly, briefly admiring the sight of majestic yet hastily patched up Wall.

"Barons. All of them...that doesn't mean their armies are here mind you. Must be to do with Gildeks."

"Are they a problem?"

"Not too much. Three of them are already heading off, one of them is looking like..." The Hunter squinted again, then sighed. "Yes, that's Maliks. He's leading his troops. Not to worry though, I don't even their Prime Servitor knows we're attacking here."

"A Servitor is this large spherical Fallen A.I. They create ether, which is pretty much the lifeblood of the species and make their Larvae. As you can imagine, the Fallen revere them." The young Guardian's Ghost answered his question before he'd time to ask it.

You're getting good at this. He smiled.

"Thank you!"

"Couple more minutes, then we move in. Do you want me to go over the plan again?" Windsor was keen to have no misunderstandings.

"Yes." Dimitri nodded earnestly. As a University student in a previous life, he'd nodded off to sleep in far too many lectures. He needed to memorize this, his life was at stake.

"Righty-ho. We'll begin with me spending ten seconds on putting down whatever snipers or surveillance they have. Once that's over, we charge in and stop for nothing, do you understand?" The elder Guardian emphasized those last words.

His charge nodded again.

"Splendid." Windsor smiled slightly, the lad was catching on. "Once we're inside, follow my lead and if we're lucky I should be able to get you into Riksis's throne room relatively quickly. If not...that's quite a large amount of dead Fallen."

The young Guardian couldn't help but let his mouth curl into a smile. The Hunter's words were so full of confidence, it was as if he'd done something like this before.

The Fallen Skiffs roared away, en-route to the fortresses of the Barons who resided onboard. All except Maliks, who was to assume a hovering position some miles away, the last recorded sight of contact with the Thief Wolves.

He'd never been friends per say with Gildeks, but his was a grievous loss to the House. No warrior, but a damn good politician, one who'd helped steer Devils to survival more times than any could count. He was the first to raise concerns over Aksis's obsessions, after all.

"Open up communications to all my forces in the vicinity." Maliks chirped at a Captain.

"Yes, Baron." The smaller Eliksni nodded and established a comm link with some five thousand soldiers.

"Brothers, we have been tasked with avenging the death of Baron Gildeks and many dozens of our siblings. All units will converge on the last sight of contact, we will sweep the area, we will find where these thieves have gone, we will track them down and we shall present their heads to the Archon. Is that understood?" The most militarily minded of all the Devil Barons commanded stoically.

"Yes, Baron! For the Larvae yet to be born, for the future to be reclaimed!" Came the resounding response.

"Going...going..." Windsor-2 whispered quietly until the skiff and its escorts disappeared from sight. "Gone. Are you ready, Mendevev?" He cocked his rifle.

"Close as I'll ever be." Dimitri humourlessly sighed.

"When we get out of this, we'll get you some better equipment. I promise." His Ghost reassured. That was still a big "if" though, even with the older and more experienced Guardian at their side.

"Right ho-" Windsor-2 levelled his rifle at the hapless Eliksni sentries and snipers. "Ten seconds start now."

"And for god's sake, don't miss." Reginald telepathically muttered.

Shut up. The Exo Hunter inwardly hissed, squeezing the trigger. As the shot crashed out and rolled over the landscape, a Vandal's head exploded into gore. Less than half a second later so did another, and then another.

The recently revived young man gawked at how quickly Windsor put down his prey, barely noticing the Devils scatter. Some Captain's roared at their troops to get back in formation, only for one or two of their heads to evaporate into blue mist.

"Ten seconds up, go!" Windsor barked. Devils Dawn disappeared into flakes of light and a smaller scoped rifle replaced it.

In the blink of an eye, he was already thundering down their little vantage point's slope, firing away with his beloved and hard-won rifle: The Wounded. A Captain's shields evaporated in seconds before two holes were blown through his chest.

"Shouldn't we be..." Dimitri's Ghost awkwardly asked.

"Chyort!" He yelped, shaking himself out of his stupor and charging off after his escort. With experience he'd quickly gained, the young man opened up with his Khvostov on a group of Dregs trying to flank or move around Windsor. He scythed them down with ease, then barrelled into a Vandal, punching its face into hideous mush.

"Keep pushing for the wall! Stay close to me!" The Exo barked. Dimitri obliged and pounded in the direction of his comrade, picking off any stragglers the British robot left behind.

The Fallen were still in absolute chaos, reeling from this surprise attack. Already, however, calls for reinforcements were going out. Maliks was making haste back to the Wall as fast as he could and Riksis was now storming to the battlefield, seething with rage.

"These thieves dare come to my home!? Insolent worms, I shall break them with my bare hands!" The giant Fallen, flanked by his personal guard, stormed through the decrepit hallways of what was once grand, scorch cannon clenched tightly.

Even then, so enraptured by hate, he still possessed a modicum of sense. He'd some of his best snipers to guard Sepiks Prime with their lives, as she took precedent, always and without exception.

Windsor-2 knew he had to be quick. Time was running out, the possibility of tangling with the Archon himself was growing ever more likely. Yet his plan seemed to be working seamlessly: scatter the Fallen patrols and sentries, lure more forces out from the wall, then get inside.

If I can just get the lad to the ship, slipping out of here will be easy. He blew off the head of another Vandal.

"Are you sure poor old Alesti will mind you pilfering her pride and joy? Respect for the dead, come on..." Reginald commented, uncomfortably.

Pfft, pissing off Riksis and saving the life of a newly risen Guardian all in one, it's exactly what she'd want...I miss her too.

"I know. Fucking Fallen."

The Wounded barked with ferocity, striking down alien after alien through the head. It had taken centuries of practice in the art of death to bring him to this level, where on instinct he could kill in a heartbeat. By the time he lowered his feared weapon, some three dozen Fallen lay dead.

It was not without reason that Windsor-2 was among the most revered members of the War Cult.

The shadow of the Wall soon covered him, and the Exo found himself in the heart of Riksis' Empire. Looking behind, he could see Dimitri lumbering after him. Slow yet powerful and easily mopping up whatever the Hunter had left behind, the boy was clearly no incompetent.

He's not bad at this, I'll give him that.

"Could still be better."

Couldn't we all…shit.

A Skiff decloaked at that moment and trained its weapons on the young Guardian. As if to make things worse, a Walker advanced over the ridge of the hill they'd hidden on, followed by dozens of Fallen soldiers.

The Wounded dissolved into motes of light, to be replaced by Devil's Dawn. Slowly but precisely, Windsor dropped to one knee, brought the scope up to his eye, and zeroed in on the cockpit.

"No troubles with the wind. Clear shot." His Ghost relayed.

Acknowledging without a word, the British Exo pulled the trigger. The armour piercing, infused with Light bullet, exploded forth from the barrel, hurtling towards the unfortunate Eliksni pilot.

Skiffs could cloak but they didn't have strong shields at all. Hence how that bullet smashed through metal armour…and cracked open an alien skull.

The Fallen troop carrier careened off course and fell upon the Walker. A ball of yellow flame soon consumed them and the Eliksni platoon moving in support.

"Riksis is going to be so pissed."

I think we're a bit past pissed now, Regi.

A moment later, Dimitri joined him in the Wall, his posture entirely cheerful. "Well that wasn't so hard, was it?" He said cheerfully.

"Hmm." Windsor grunted, grabbing the young man by the shoulder and hauling him into the depths of the Skull Taker's Lair. This was done with haste, as the damaged yet still operational Walker was getting back up.

If one didn't know their way around, it would be all too easy to get lost. But the Exo had slunk through this place too many times to count, to steal, to assassinate or simply for the thrill of it.

Eventually, Windsor relinquished his grip on Dimitri's shoulder and moved at a slower pace. Barrelling through this place when one didn't know what was around the corner was the height of folly. Though he was an individual whom Lady Luck had taken for a pet, the Exo Hunter didn't want to chance it.

For all he knew, they could run straight into Riksis and be torn limb from limb. Though they were both Guardians, immortal and near undefeatable warriors of Light called back from the dark oblivion by the Traveller itself, this was still the Skull Taker.

The two continued to navigate the labyrinth of dank, grey, rotting and dark corridors, ancient to those alive today, with as much haste as caution would allow. It seemed like an eternity before Dimitri felt he had to ask as to their whereabouts.

"How close are we?" He muttered quietly, routinely looking over his shoulder.

"Not far now…just another turn and…" The moment Windsor finished, they came upon a set of iron doors with Fallen glyphs and the House of Devils' symbol carved into them. One would note however, that despite the Fallen's best attempt to make them ornate as possible, they could not shake off the crude nature most of their constructs possessed.

What more do you expect from the equivalent of bloody Space Hyenas?

"More like Scavengers. Besides, be careful. When you get pissy, especially when it comes to Fallen, you get wrapped up in your own little world. Guardians tend to die when that happens."

Shut up, Reggie.

"What now?" Observing the final obstacle between him and his route to safety, Dimitri shifted anxiously. The creatures that wanted him dead could burst around that corner at any moment, leaving him no hope of escape.

"Oh, that's easy." A massive rocket launcher flickered into Windsor's hands. "We blow it off its hinges."

"Are…are you sure? Won't that…attract attention?"

"We were always going to attract attention. If Riksis hasn't figured out what we're up to, he soon will. Anyways, this is just his throne room. I'd worry if it were Sepiks' sanctum, but it's not. Put your fingers in your ears-" the Hunter levelled his weapon at the door. "-this will be loud…"

Riksis gazed at the scene of destruction and death. Dozens of his Fallen dead, a Skiff lost, a Walker damaged, it was all maddening. As if to add insult to injury, it seemed this wasn't a large-scale thief attack, just one or two lone Wolf Thieves. As he took a closer look at the corpses, anger threatened to boil over at any moment.

I know these injuries. Headshots, perfect headshots. The work of a Hunter…and there are few who would dare attack my domain, let alone-A distant explosion caused the heads of hundreds of Eliksni to snap up, and for Riksis to whirl around.

As his Dregs, Vandals and Captains surged back into their great fortress, Riksis roared in his guttural alien tongue.

"Windsor!"

"I think they know we're here."

I somewhat guessed.

"Move, quickly." Windsor-2 hissed at Dimitri, backing into the throne room of Archon Riksis. His charge only just managed to force himself into action, mind boggled by the sight that lay before him.

The floor was coated in thousands of skulls.

Mostly they seemed to be human, with one or two alien looking ones scattered amongst the disturbing carpet. The room itself was large, its walls completely taken up by bulbous, alien, glowing blue computing. Once this housed a generator, but the Eliksni had ripped it out long ago to replace it with their own, superior tech.

A great gash in the ceiling caused by rust and age allowed sunlight to stab in and illuminate the Skull Taker's seat of power. Like the rest of the floor it was attached to, the throne was covered in skulls. The chair itself was twice Dimitri's size, built to accommodate something gargantuan.

"Fallen can grow to immense heights. As an Archon, Riksis is about twenty-four feet." His Ghost answered his unsaid question.

Twenty-four…God, how does anyone stand against that? Staring dumbfounded, the inexperienced Guardian could scarcely imagine something that large.

"Usually not many do. That throne…at least a tenth of it is made up of Guardian skulls."

Dimitri could hear the sadness in the little machine's voice and decided to not press the question, as it sounded like it had known a few of these people. And from the looks Windsor-2 was giving the horrendous chair…yes, he knew who a few of these poor souls were.

"Well, there's your way out." The Exo nodded at something above the throne. So consumed by his uneasiness, the young man had failed to notice the ship hanging from the ceiling. It looked hammered together, as if it were mass produced, its central triangular cockpit flanked by yellow cylinders that served as engines.

Immediately, Dimitri's Ghost materialized in a flash. It flew up to the old craft and began scanning it intently.

"Arcadia class jump ship, registration number…7785?" It paused in surprise. "This is Alesti-90's ship. I'd have thought the Fallen would've pulled it apart for scrap-"

"They did that to its owner but kept this as a trophy. Riksis does love his ornaments." Windsor muttered viciously, taking a kneeling position and levelling The Wounded at the ruined doors.

"Motion tracker's picking up about two or three hundred Fallen coming our way…no, no, I lie, four hundred." Reginald unhelpfully informed.

"Help get that ship back online. Kid, with me. We'll have to hold them until our Ghosts can make your way out work properly." The Hunter beckoned for his charge to join him. Reginald materialised and hovered over to the Ghost without a name.

"Let's see if you're any good, Sunshine." The Red machine said, condescendingly.

"I've been doing this for five hundred years. I'm not a newbie." The slightly inexperienced A.I grumbled, slightly hurt by those words.

"That's what all the young uns say. Henceforth, your name is Sunshine."

"Whatever. Let's get on with this."

The Russian did as he was told and took a kneeling position beside the British Exo, his Kvostov held more firmly than it had ever been before. He almost laughed at used to this he was getting, after the events of a mere day.

"Breathe…relax." Windsor reassured. He well understood the fears of newly risen Guardians, having obviously been one himself once. The lad needed a few rounds in the crucible and a trip to Banshee-44's stall before he should even consider going on a patrol. "On my command." The Exo's metal finger curled around the trigger.

"What happens when we have to reload?" Dimitri whispered, resolute but afraid.

"Rush them, but do not go beyond that door."

The ground shook as from the darkness dozens of Dregs, Vandals and Captains burst forth, chittering and snarling in their alien tongues.

"Open fire!" Windsor roared. The human weapons spat spiteful hot lead coated in the essence of a god, cutting down dozens of Eliksni. Captains' shields flashed then failed, followed by sick thuds and their chests or heads exploding into blue gore.

The barrels of the Guardians' weapons heated up quickly, yet they were altered by Light and therefore could fundamentally not fail. By the Traveller's will, the projectiles of its defenders would strike down its enemies.

However, inevitably, ammunition ran out. The time to change clip had come, but they'd little time to do it. So the two super-human undead rushed forwards, Windsor's rifle evaporating into motes of light, whilst Dimitri reloaded as he ran.

Soon enough his Kvostov was barking again, directly into the faces of the Aliens that wanted him dead. His gun held one handed, his fist free to swing, he annihilated scores of Fallen with his power. To his left, Dimitri could scarcely comprehend the golden revolver that had materialised in Windsor's hand. With practised precision, it unleashed jets of golden sunlight that burned its unfortunate targets away.

This…this is the Light? What a power...how's the ship coming along? He experimentally directed at his Ghost, wondering if they still had a link.

"Almost there, give us a little more time." It responded, sounding stressed.

I'll try my best.

A Captain had levelled his scorch canon and was firing into the melee. His own Dregs were incinerated, becoming useful shields for the two Guardians. Dimitri emptied a third of a clip into the large Alien's shields, then administered the coup de grace via a strike to the chest.

Riksis' obsession with this Young Wolf had cost him two hundred and fifty Devils.

"Done, we're ready to go!" The sound of engines whining as they heated up caught the attention of both Guardians.

"Move, I'll cover you!" Windsor barked, incinerating another hapless Dreg.

"What…what about you!?" The inexperienced Guardian cried, realising his new friend had no observable way out of this.

"Oh, I'll be fine. I've slipped out of far worse than this, now go before the Fallen bring in their big guns!"

"But-"

"Now, Dimitri!" Irritation seeped into that synthetic voice.

Dimitri looked on despairingly, then nodded after a moment of deliberation. He had to force down memories of leaving his dead father lying face down in the tarmac. Pelting to the decrepit looking ship, fighting tears that threatened to come forth as he left someone else behind, he could see Reginald flying back to his Guardian.

Good luck you two…and thank you. Soon he was directly beneath the vessel, only now thinking of how he was going to get onboard.

"Don't worry, I've got this!" His Ghost said with gusto.

Suddenly, the young man found himself within a tight fitting yet comfortable cockpit, single control stick lying between his legs, hud displaying power levels and the outside world.

"Wha…what?" He stammered.

"I just transmatted you. Hang on."

Dimitri was forced into his chair when the Jumpship's engines roared to life. Tearing itself free of the wires which held it captive, the dagger shaped vessel angled itself at the great hole in the ceiling and shot away.

The sheer power of its thrusters smashed everything below, sending skulls and Fallen flying everywhere, even demolishing the Archon's throne. This provided a moment or two of breathing space for the Hunter.

See you later, lad. Windsor-2 grinned.

"Umm, looks like Riksis is going to be here in a moment." Reginald muttered, a huge red blob appearing on motion tracker.

Ah, took him long enough. Shall we disappear?

"Thought you'd never ask. Activating cloak."

And like that, the legendary Exo vanished.

Sitting on a rooftop not far from the wall, a lone figure rested on one knee. A pair of electronic blue eyes scanned the area, amused at what a mess the Devils were making. They simply had no idea how to handle an incursion into the heart of their territory, flapping like startled birds in response.

There was a roar, causing her to lift her gaze. A Jumpship long thought lost roared into the heavens, finally free after fifty years. The female Exo knew it would break the stratosphere in a matter of seconds, the Fallen had no hope of catching it.

This "Stranger" chuckled to herself.

"A fine start, Young Wolf. Not even a day risen and you've angered one of the most powerful Fallen in the system. Yours will be a career to watch..." Shaking her head, this mysterious individual faded away, as if she'd never been there in the first place.

The Eliksni left in the throne room cowered in terror when their Archon stormed in, flanked by his personal Guard. Looking around, he saw the heart of his Empire defiled and ruined.

Riksis gazed up at the blue sky, seeing his greatest prize flying away in the hands of the insolent Thief who'd vandalized his glorious throne room. The other Guardian, the accursed Windsor, had likely long slunk off by now.

Archon Riksis, one of the largest and most feared Fallen in the system, the stuff of children's cautionary bedtime stories with nothing to take his fury out on, threw his head back and screamed.