[I challenged myself to write this as close to the first mission as I possibly could, Does this idea work or detract from this piece?. Also... Is there too much inner dialogue? Takes place after Scythe dies, but before he tells his story from "Not All of Us Can Be Heroes".] What a tremendous warmth I felt… The fire that lulled me into the light. There was peace like I’d never felt before, a calm that rang through my ears as I lifted into the sky over the clouds and off of the wispy white tips. Below, fire raged and burned, driving back the night. I could see the stars, golden sunlight breaking the horizon as dawn greeted the world with gentle fingers spanning across the sky… Finally, peace at last. *** “Guardian… Eyes up Guardian.” My head throbs with a dull sense of aching. I’m coughing as I watch the vista of dusk melting into darkness, regaining my breath in subtle gasps. A figure comes into view while my eyes strain to adjust. It hurts to breathe, each time my lungs inhale and draw a breath I feel as if my bones are breaking. A floating cube with a glowing blue eye comes into focus—my eyes are still adjusting. “It worked… You’re alive!” I try to speak—I’d like to smash this creature into bits—but I’m still having trouble breathing. “You don’t know how long I’ve been looking for you…” Some of the robot’s speech fades in and out, my ears glean through the sounds and words that stand out, but my vision seems to clearing up now despite feeling dizzy. “I’m a ghost. Well, actually, I’m your ghost. And you? Well you’ve been dead a long time… So…” His voice drones on…[i] “Why the HELL is this tin can still talking?” [/i]I tune out most of what he has to say. The numbness in my arms fade, followed by a tingling sensation until finally some feeling creeps back in. Each movement aches to life as my heart pounds and blood courses throughout my body. My nerves lash at my muscles who, in return, bark back a message “Too tired, try later.” The same response given with every movement I attempt. At first, I’m only able raise my arms. Clenching my fists, there’s something missing. The familiar feeling of longing to grasp the hilt of a blade returns. [i]“I’m back! Great… I’m back.”[/i] Meanwhile, the ghost is still under the impression that I care what it has to say. “This is Fallen Territory, we aren’t safe here. I have to get you to the city.” Something about that word makes my head hurt… It sounds familiar, too familiar. “Fallen… Fallen! Vermin.” The mere sound of the word sends spikes of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The blurriness fades as my vision comes into focus.[i] “Where are you?”[/i] “This way, we have to hurry.” the ghost says. It was already halfway between where he found me and the door to the old wall—the one I used to help protect. It’s seen better days. [i]“How long was I dead for? Centuries?”[/i] Each movement reminds me how stubborn my body is; it feels like I’m forcing fire into my muscles and ignoring the burn, but I have to find it. “Hey! No, come this way guardian. We need you to survive! I’m not losing you a minute into your reviv—“ “Shut it! Stop calling me guardian, I’m not a guardian at all! Now help me find my gun you dinky little light bulb.” My raspy words spray into my helmet. It hurts so much to talk… My throat is so hoarse and dry it feels as if I’m breathing sand from my lips. “You don’t understand, I was able to bring you back; therefore, you must be a guardian. Look, there is a Fallen hunting party no more than a few clicks from us. They’ll kill us—they’ll kill you!” “I’m no guardian. And, it wouldn’t be the first time no help me find Ganon. I know it’s here!” The ghost flies back over to me. Toward the south I can hear the sounds of Fallen creeping toward us through old cars. Their spindly legs scrape along the metal as they draw nearer. Knees in the dirt, I’m searching the ground in a feverish attempt to recover my hand cannon. “Guardian. They will kill you. You’re not ready to fight them yet—you don’t even have a weapon” The Ghost flutters over my shoulder, swirling around as he hovers in front of me. “Let it go. You’ll find more.” He says, this time with more urgency. The ghost swooshes around to my face. Blue light from its ocular sensor bores into my eyes, causing them to sting. Wincing, I turn away. With both hands, I snatch the pesky robot in midair. Panicked, it tries to pull away. My fingers clasped around the body of the ghost and I squeeze the metal struts as it tries to escape. “Listen you dinky piece of—“ Plasma screeches past me, just over my right shoulder, I lift my head and see the fallen leaping over the cars, their bodies masked in the sunset’s rays. Blue light pours from their direction and sails toward me, some shots whiz and crackle the air as they zip by. “The fallen seem to have made some upgrades, their projectiles have a crude tracking system now…” “We’ll talk later. Move!” I let go and sprint in the direction of the open door. The ghost disappears and I feel all of my body surge with a sudden tingle. “[i]Did I catch a round with my back? My armor is still functional right?[/i]” “Don’t worry, I’m still with you.” The ghost’s voice echoes inside my head and ringing through both ears. There’s no time to process all this, but everything feels familiar. I’ve never felt so much aching between my movements but I have to keep moving. My legs propel me through a corridor of rotting cars coated in a thick layer of rust. All around me, I can hear the Fallen clambering after me, their legs scraping the metal of cars as they cry out their hunting cries. My head is locked on a small black rectangle in the wall, a doorway tucked into the wall… Closer, closer, each footstep feels like I could topple over at any moment and roll into the wall. I jump through the threshold but loose my footing upon landing, sliding and skidding my armor against the concrete until I crash into the wall. From there I catch a glimpse of what’s behind me: a Dreg, a Vandal, and a Captain. Three flavors of Fallen spewing hot blue plasma my way. My body rolls into the stairs and scramble to my legs as a succession of rounds impact where I had been on the ground. [i]“It’s hard to move in short bursts of speed like this, each one leaves me winded and gasping… I’m only 115 years old, I can’t be this out of shape can I? Maybe being dead for so long really takes it out of you."[/i] Three flights of stairs later and my legs feel as if they’ve already been run through a gauntlet. After three flights of stairs, I’m out of breath. The doorway at the top opens up into a room where the scaffolding allows the fading sunlight light to bleed into the room and paint it a withering amber color. It’s a surreal feeling being back inside, when I was alive, this walk way served as the lookout for whomever was on duty to watch guardians leave or return. “Okay, I need to find you a weapon before they find us.” "What do you think I was trying to do out there? Scrounge for spin metal in the scrap heaps? I had a gun on my hip before—“ “Then when didn’t you look there to begin with? Isn’t that what’s on your belt?” I feel stupid. It seems that my impulsiveness was the only thing that didn’t die whenever I did. On my hip in its holster I can feel Ganon sitting where it’s been the whole time. “Looks like you’re good for something after all.” “Quiet. They’re right above us.” The ghost chirps. The room grows darker as we move deeper into the wall toward the main channel. This open corridor was where munitions were carried via a vast system of conveyor belts throughout the wall. Here, a group of warlocks inspected and procured the sunlight for the artillery unit behind the wall. They were known as the “Storm Wardens”, the 28th Legion Enchanting Division. [i]Great. They’re inside.[/i] In the wall ahead of me I can see some of the vermin crawling around and hiding in the shadows. They slide back into the shadows as soon I notice them… They were always better fighters in the dark, experts at hit and run guerilla tactics and laying an ambush. “They’re going to flank us.” I say to the tiny robot, turning left up some stairs and walking to a dim platform overlooking on of the massive open assembly area. [continued 1/3]