Three guardians on Old Russia sitting inside of an old Pre Golden Age building staring at the campfire in front of them. Titan: So, what are we doing in here anyway? Warlock: Holding position, and awaiting for orders from the tower. Titan: So we are doing nothing? Hunter: Pretty much. Warlock: No!, we are holding position and awaiting for orders! Titan: And exactly when will those orders come? Warlock: They where supposed to arrive 3 hours ago . . . Hunter: Great, so we are alone in the middle of this storm, with low resources and no communication with the tower, could it be worse? *The fire goes out* Titan: You asked for it. Hunter: Shut up or i will Golden Gun you. Warlock: I'm sure that's grammatically incorrect. Hunter: No it isn't. Titan: I'm pretty sure it is. Hunter: No, its NOT! Warlock: Yes it is. *Hunter trows himself onto the warlock and start fighting* Hunter: Correct me one more time you glorified Tinkerbell!! *Warlock puts himself on top* Warlock: Well at least I'm not a Red Riding Hood spin-off !!! Hunter: Don't you even dare!!! *Hunter takes down warlock and keep fighting* *Warlocks ghost materializes* WGhost: What's going on? Titan: They are fighting. WGhost: Again?, anyways, in coming transmission from the tower. Commander Zavala: Guardians there's a report of enemy movement in the area, i need you to investigate, the coordinates are encrypted and send to your ghost. *Warlock and Hunter stand up and tidy up their armors* Warlock: We have job to do!, let's go. WGhost: So who was winning? Warlock: That's none of your business. WGhost: So the Hunter? Warlock: Get back in. . . *Warlocks ghost disappears* Hunter: So, where to? Warlock: Towards the North. Titan: But there's nothing there. Hunter: There's snow and trees! *Titan punches him in the head* Titan: You retarded Dreg. *Hunter rubs his head* Hunter: Well you don't have to offend me you know? Warlock: Cut it out you two!, we need to start moving! *Hunter and Titan start dancing* Warlock: I feel the need of Nova Bombing you so hard . . . Hunter: That's not a real word. . . *They go out of the building heading towards the coordinates, while fading into the storm* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part 2: http://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/79031133/0/0/1