The man with the gun stared into the Ghosts’ eye. The little drone’s optical receptor flicked from the gun, to the man’s stony face, a metallic sheen beneath one eye, to his arm, a hunk of metal, and wiring, one finger tapping slowly on the table. The Ghost tried in vain to transmat, to disappear, back to their jumpship, his Guardian’s armor, anywhere but the little container he was trapped in, imprisoned like a jinn in a bottle. “Good luck with that. It’s designed to keep you in.” The man said maliciously. “Why are you doing this?” the Ghost asked, half tired, half terrified. His captor wore a hood that kept his face in shadow, which failed to hide a glint of metal where his eye should have been. “Because I can. Because the Light’s ‘blessing’ shouldn’t be selfishly kept from others. Even those that have lost it. Now...” His voice hardened. “Do it.” The Ghost continued to struggle feebly, before ceasing with a sigh of defeat. “I can’t.” he said. The response was near-instant, but not unexpected. “Why not?” “Because… that’s not how it works.” The Ghost said. “How does it work?” “I… don’t know.” The man’s cybernetic arm held the cannon casually. It's dark muzzle stared into the Ghost like an eyeless socket, something to be filled. “...I can’t answer that.” the Ghost said half-heartedly. The man gave a humorless chuckle. “You’re not in the position to be saying no, little Light.” The Ghost’s eye glanced to the unconscious form of his Guardian, prone in the corner of the room. “Don’t call me that, you… you’re a monster.” If the Ghost could have spat, he would have. The man chuckled again. The sound was hollow. “Oh, am I? Tell me.” The little Light said nothing as his tormentor slowly rose from his chair, and walked across the small room to the prison he was confined in. At this distance the Ghost could see beneath the man’s hood - where an eye once was there was a dark metal pit. He wasn’t sure if he was looking at the man or the gun. “Tell me what I am.” There was a brief silence. Heavy as dirt on a coffin. “You… used to be a Guardian.” the Ghost said in quiet horror, eye unable to move away from the man. The dark pit of his own eye stared back. Metal gazing into metal. “Those that took my leg, my arm, my eye… took more than flesh.” the man said, almost whispering. The Ghost trembled. In sadness or fear? He didn’t know. The man didn’t miss it. “Don’t pity me.” He spat. The cold pit of the gun pressed against the Ghost’s tiny prison, and he trembled once more. There was a minute of terrible silence. Then the man’s hand drooped. The Ghost, relieved, sank to the bottom of the container, before staring back at the man. Metal gazed into metal once more. “Choose me.” The Ghost just stared back tiredly, shell drooping like the petals of a wilted flower. “I SAID CHOOSE ME!” The man roared, face contorting with mad rage. It was at that unfortunate time that the unconscious Guardian began to stir. They barely managed to let out a confused grunt before the man’s fury set upon them. The cybernetic arm came down like a steel piston, the force of the blow rattling the Guardian’s teeth in their mouth. The man pivoted, a second strike to the abdomen, knocking the wind from their chest, a third to the ribs, a fourth, a fifth. Blow after blow, soon the punches landed with the sound of armor breaking, flesh rending. Slowly the man rose. Ghost cowered once more, ashamed of his inability to act. He couldn’t tell if his Guardian was breathing or not. All he could do was watch as the man paced around the small, shadowy room. “I see. I see that the Light doesn’t welcome back those lost from its embrace. That stray too far.” he growled, in a low, manic tone. Turning back, he stared at the captured Ghost, and stalked towards it. Lifting the caged spark of Light, the man’s face was blank as a cliffside. The only thing the Ghost could see, inches away, was raw, unbridled rage. And something more… a kind of quiet, self directed loathing. “Y-you won’t get away with this.” the Ghost stammered. “The Vanguard’ll… they’ll hunt you down.” The man’s laugh was empty. “The Vanguard? If you see them, tell them Cadmus says hello. I doubt they’ll remember. If they do, they’ll wish they hadn’t.” At that, Cadmus hefted the imprisoned Ghost, and, face blank, hurled it at the wall. The Ghost barely had time to react before he collided with the wall, and there was darkness.