All Hunters go to heaven. At least, Celcius Krix hoped that were true as he sat on the threshold of what would quite possibly be the last firefight of his resurrected life. If there was some god or benevolent spirit animal that guided the fortunes of all created things, he figured a good guardian would start praying to it then; but Krix wasn’t a good guardian, so he wouldn’t start now. To some guardians he was Krix the Heretic. To others he was Krix the Impotent. Impotent because the all-hallowed Light had never blessed him with the power of the Golden Gun. Oh well. For the faithless Hunter a quick wit and a quicker trigger finger had been religion enough: he would make no supplication to the cloying light. Instead he counted the six lonely shells which remained to his most loyal friend. Six was a meager prayer. One by one he slid the holy rounds into [i]Deliverance[/i], each one an offering to the jet black hand cannon. Better than nothing, right? Right. “Salvation will not be found in lead and steel. The path we tread is naught but Light and Void,” came the hollow voice of Sarae Deadstar behind him. Krix turned to face the dour Warlock. The vaguely apocalyptic anecdotes were a small price to pay for having her on the fireteam; her knack for obliterating Fallen with various space magics had served them well on their mission and saved Krix’ life more than once. She wasn’t bad with a pulser either. “Listen, Deadstar,” She obviously made that name up. “I can appreciate your way of doing things. I must admit I loved watching you burn half a Ketch worth of Dregs into thin air back there, and you looked great doing it-you probably looked even better under that obsidian dome of yours-“ “The point, Hunter.” “The point being,” continued Krix. “you have your way of doing things, I have mine. You embrace the void, I’ll count my bullets. I want to make sure I can actually go out with guns blazing before I go out with guns blazing. And I, personally, don’t need a sermon as I come to grips with my fate. Isn’t that right, Frank?” The stoic Titan working the panel to the control room door before them flashed a lazy thumbs up in Krix’ direction. The mute Titan had perfected an art that transcended words. “See, Frank agrees.” Krix imagined the she-Warlock digging into him with purple-fired eyes beneath her helm. “We do not embrace the Void” she said after a moment. “The Void embraces us.” “Well let’s hope it gives nicer hugs than the Baron behind this door, huh?” Krix smiled a stupid smile that she obviously couldn’t see. Were their ghosts not frantically sealing shut every carcass-ridden hallway behind them to prevent the Fallen cavalry from catching them, Frank wouldn’t have been left to work the panel to the last damn doorway to the Baron. But left to work he was, so he continued his delicate persuasion by smashing the panel with his fists. Again, his communication with the tech was transcending words. (Stories varied as to how Frank lost his voice. Some said a Hive wizard tore it out before Frank took her head. Others said he got it caught in the engine of a sparrow. No one knows, and he was obviously not talking about it.) Krix spun [i]Deliverance’s[/i] chamber into position with a satisfying click. “Well, it’s been-“ *CRUNCH* *HISSSSSSS* At last the doors gave in to Frank’s wrath and disappeared in terror. The control room was crawling with Fallen, ready and waiting, a seething Baron at the center atop a flight of stairs. He screamed defiance in an alien tongue. His followers frenzied, more Dregs poured from hidden holes about the room. This was it and there was no time for last goodbyes. The three guardians crossed the threshold; what followed was chaos and bliss. Lead, fire, and arc seared the air. What felt like a final eternity to Krix may have been a minute, it may have been ten. Captain, dreg, and shank alike fell to his burning blade. His six shots were yet unspent. The Warlock, the Titan, and the Hunter crashed through endless waves of rabid animals and hateful machines. Deadstar’s scream cut through the madness, “Push to the target, Krix! Frank, we must clear the way!” There was no need for affirmation. Krix pushed forward. Fire and void blistered in a maelstrom to his right. Deadstar seemed to be wielding light in one hand and darkness in the other: a violent and terrible beauty. But was that possible? There was no time to verify. Krix kept running and stabbing. Meanwhile, Frank was making widows of Dreg wives from the deeping throng of screaming Fallen. *CRUNCH* *CRACK* Things sounded like they were going pretty well. A clutch of vandals fell before Krix’ light-speed blade. Bracing for a melee, an unsuspecting Captain crumpled instantly with a single round from [i]Deliverance[/i]. Two more Captains took his place. Five seconds and two rounds later, Krix found himself ten feet from his prey atop the center platform. The Baron locked his death gaze upon the hunter-one of them was going to die and they both knew it. The Baron screamed a long and terrible scream that shook Krix’ unbelieving soul. Krix took that moment to shoot him in the face. The Baron disappeared. The bullet buried itself in the ceiling somewhere. “Wonderful.” Krix said as the Baron blinked three feet closer. Krix braced for the final charge but the Baron did not advance. Breaking his gaze from the Hunter, the Fallen beast surveyed the room that had become a battlefield and cackled. Something was wrong. Krix could no longer hear alien skulls crack nor bones shatter. He turned about to see that the lights behind had ceased to glow. Sarae lay still at the foot of the stairs, arc energy caressing her body. In the far corner of the room Frank was disappearing beneath a writhing mass of vengeful Fallen flesh. The beast before him laughed again-Krix was left alone with his best friend. He couldn’t recall how many shots [i]Deliverance[/i] had left to give as he backed away from the approaching Baron. Krix was jarred by the pillar behind him. He was about to spend the last of his leaden prayers. *BANG* *BANG* *CLICK* *CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK* No answer. The Baron was upon him. With two arms and one motion the Fallen demon wrenched the knife from Krix’ hand and took hold of his neck. Helplessly held aloft in the Baron’s grip, he probably wasn’t going to breathe ever again. As capillaries burst and vision began to blur, Krix felt the welcome sensation of warmth. Odd, considering all the talk about the “icy hand of death”. It started from the outside then grew from within. It made him smile. The room was hot and bright. There was light behind the Baron. Beneath him. Inside him. [i]What? [/i] Straining with eyes that were set to burst from his skull, Krix found the source of light and warmth. At the bottom of the stairs, cloaked in radiant flame, was Sarae Deadstar. Her obsidian helm floated in splinters about her, mad planets orbiting the fiercest sun in the universe. She was beautiful, and she was filling the room with light. Tendrils of flame reached from her ascending body into the debris of battle, sparking a blue eruption in the center of a Fallen crowd. With outstretched arms the invigorated Frank rose and eviscerated every Fallen about him. The Baron’s grip twitched as he heard his forces die below him, Krix’ lungs grasped for the air, clutching enough to steady his vision. The fiery tendrils had come to him. [i]Deliverance[/i] was in his hand and she was aglow. She was golden. “Let the Light ride through you, Celcius Krix,” the radiant Sarae Deadstar sang to him from below. Celcius Krix smiled a stupid smile that she obviously couldn’t see. And he let the Light ride.