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No need to be rudantly outrageous. Lets go with "Venom Laced Omnipenetrable Hypereffective" needles instead. Poison + Explosions is a little much even for the EEB.

What is this… thing… Cold wondered. How in hell did anyone expect a blow gun, even one bolstered with a tiny linear accelerator, to be useful here on the surface of the Moon? What was he supposed to do? Take off his helmet, and expose himself to hard vacuum, just to try and use the thing? He shook his head, then reared back, hoping that a good strong throw would somehow send the "weapon" beyond lunar orbit. It didn't.

Roger, the Hunter Guardian, couldn't believe his luck.

Born and raised under the shadow of the Traveler's ship itself, Roger was considered a spoiled little mommy's boy by his fellow colleagues, born with a platinum spoon in his mouth. Always under his father's shadow, the greatest Warlock in the City's history, Roger never could quite achieve the necessary level of abstraction to successfully be trained in the dark arts of wizardry and so he was reluctantly inducted into the Guardian infantry, such as to not completely shame his father into political disgrace.

Excelling in the crafts of Huntership, partly due to his royal upbringing, partly due to his inability to make friends, Roger was rapidly dispatched to the Advanced Scouting Program, a program infamous for its high mortality rate.

His first day of duty had him orbital dropped halfway across Earth, in the midsts of the surviving Amazonian Forest, Earth last natural bastion. His briefing suggested there were possibly hidden pre-Traveler treasures within, relics from the Golden Age space endeavours, gifts from the humans of the past of incalculable worth to the City. Roger was to search and find them, securing as many as he could and placing beacons for future Titan incursions.

Day one was possibly the worst day of Roger's life. After swallowing up a bug bigger than Roger's foot, his Pike lost all its air-worthiness, sucumbing to a simple night heater and immobile power pack. By staying at one place for so long, Roger was easily tracked by the local fauna, which quickly made short work of Roger's rations and portable equipment. Luckily, he had carefully studied the briefing datapad, so he had deep knowledge of which plants could be used as poisonous barbs to fend off the bigger animals, the ones that would consider Roger for dinner.

Day two was a bit better. Even though he stayed up all night, Roger found the sight of the sunrise among the forest canopies the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Making good use of the Sun's hard stare, he scouted out the surroundings and was pleased to find a river. He quickly cleaned himself up and, with much effort, managed to drag the downed Pike to its margin, setting up a much more resourceful camp than the crash site. Protected by the rivers strong odors and sounds, Roger was able to peacefully sleep that night.

Day three began with a heavy downpour. Due the peculiar geography of the reagion his Pike crashed, the river suddenly turned into a raging rapid, so fast Roger had no time to escape its fast and forceful claws. Much to his chagrin, the Pike didn't even bulge and so Roger was relentlessly threw downriver away from his only source of sustenance and security. A mere hour later, though it felt like years, Roger was washed up beneath a massive stone ruin. He, correctly, observed the ruins must have predated even the Golden Age humans, certainly predating space flight. Excitement quickly recovering his energies, Roger set out to explore the ruins.

At night, Roger finally stumbled into a chamber that promised to be more than a simple dining hall. It was a room about 10 meters underground with a single pedestal, two meters across, sitting in the disconcertingly precise middle of the chamber. His excitement could barely be contained, given he found the symbol of the Traveler. The symbol of the Traveler! Buried beneath clearly pre-space flight ruins! Roger could all but keep himself from touching the pedestal. His whole perception of self suddenly shifted. The room was no longer. Roger was now standing on the Traveler, several kilometers above the City. A sense of dread filled him, but it was not his. A golden god, clearly the personification the Sun told him of the imminent threat locked in stasis beneath the City. One of the Terrors. Roger, being the only one told with sufficient advance, would be the only one capable of stopping the threat. Thrown back into the pedestal room, Roger found himself surrounded by similarly golden people, each holding a small tinker in their grasp.

The first, the personification of the Moon, gave him a cup of the poison that could kill the Terror long enough to put it back into stasis. The second, the personification of the Nature, gave him the only dart sharp enough to pierce the Terror's hide. The third, the personification of the Stone gave him the magical stones that could accelerate the dart fast enough to keep the Terror from dodging the attack. Finally, the fifth, the personification of the Sun, gave him the Cerbatana, the ancient weapon that the Terror's terrible curse could not break. The five, together, chanted the Song of Distance, transporting Roger back to the heart of the City, where the Terror was now bursting from the ground, its ominous song crushing the heart of the bravest Guardians as far as the Wall.

As the Song of Distance's chanting faded into the back of his mind, Roger heard the urging: "Go, chosen one. Blow the Dart of Salvation into the Terror's hideous form! Save the world from its grasp another thousand years!"

Roger, the Hunter Guardian, couldn't believe his luck.

He finally had the chance to be a greater hero than his father. To finally break the image of a mommy's boy he always carried. To be properly treated among his peers. To have his name written on the inside of the Wall.

Roger, the Hunter Guardian, couldn't believe his luck.
After all, he was an Exo. And Exos don't have lungs.

PS: add "http://" to the image's URL, lest it automatically adds DBO in it, which points to an inexistent link. Like it is doing now.

Of course the most interesting past time that Guardians found for The Hard Time Rifle was to fire it at two other Guardians while they are close enough together that their distortion fields merge. Next the Guardians will fight while several Guardians watch and cheer, enjoying the look of a Guardian's face as it ripples around a hard blow from his opponent.

This was colloquially called a "Lag Fest." Most of the time no one even chose a winner.

I had fun just reading that. Can't imagine how fun it would be to actually use!

You definitely just drew and described my old single shot break action shotgun. Word for word. The drawing even looks the same.

This wasn't the life Xenos has signed on for. One does not train hard enough and sacrifice long enough to join the Guardians, only to be stuck in a small workshop, making one identical copy of an ill-conceived gun after another. If only The Smell of Napalm hadn't been so effective. If only someone, ANYONE, else could else could duplicate the half-assed way he wrapped the duck tape around the barrel, or the way he smashed the stock into the ground to bend it, and then straighten it again. It was just his luck that the gun that only he could make was the one thing keeping the Hive at bay. At least the job paid well he told himself for the seventh time that morning…

I'd paint my to look like pizza.

Because pizza is awesome.

Malagate dashed through the otherworldly forest, the ambush leaving him out of ammo, options, energy, and time. He stopped behind one of the larger nearby trees, gasping for breath inside the confines of his customized helmet. Automatically his hand reached back and made contact with Et in Arcadia ego, his Mercury Bow. The weapon would be useless against his pursuers, he knew, but he would not run any farther, would not die a coward fleeing from a foe he could not hope to escape.

A switch on the side started the freezing process, a small hiss indicating that the last few milliliters of mercury had been pumped into position. He only had enough time to run his thumb over the words he had etched into the black metal long ago before the first Vex unit stepped into view some two dozen meters away. He couldn't feel the small grooved letters of course, not through his sealed combat gloves, but they calmed him, focusing his mind like they always did.

The bow steamed as he brought it to bear, it's chilled surface reacting to Venus' heat. As usual the damned robots immediatley detected his movement, but even they weren't quick enough to dodge the small bolt of quicksilver that rushed towards them. Much to his surprise, the super-chilled sliver of mercury penetrated the armor of the iron toned automaton he'd aimed at, punching a small, even hole through the front of its "chest."

If it had been one of The Fallen, or a member of the Cabal, or possibly even one of the Hive (though nothing ever seemed certain with them) it would have staggered, and withered to the ground as its body felt the effects of rapid mercury poisoning. Instead, the time traveling robot simply steadied itself, and returned fire.

I lost it at "wizard wand"

The Zorg ZF-1's mom is chambered in 5.56? Are you Satan?

"Step six," ManKitten read from the instruction manual that had come with his M.O.A.G. XR5B Breach Assault Unit, "remove wand E from protective container and carefully snap so that upper and lower sections of wand remain tenuously connected…"

That bladed handle looks...hard to hold. It would suck to forget that its bladed.

I say throw it at the fallen. Then run faster. ^_^ (Maybe they will they to pick it up)

"What's the situation?"

"We've got three men pinned down in that clearing. Dang four arms caught a whiff of our resupply and cornered them there," INSANEdrive said to the leader of the newly arrived strike team.

"You got a plan?"

"Always."

The counter attack was brief and well executed. INSANEdrive's unit collapsed, imploded, and otherwise squished the Fallen warriors in a brilliantly executed pincer attack. Their special issue ISYH-1423 black hole rifles were the deciding factor. Even the heavy armor of the famous spider tanks crumpled to repeated applications of the Ishes.

After the battle INSANEdrive and his subordinates met in the clearing.

"What is that smell?" the strike force leader asked as he inspected the rescued supply crates. "It almost smells like… You said they got a whiff of the resupply? "

"I did," INSANEdrive replied, smiling. "Asian takeout. Can't expect the men to fight the galaxy on an empty stomach! And if it draws the Fallen into costly battles, all the better."

A handsome target!

(I laughed. Nice work.)

Lost it at "uneven tire wear"

"Come on, update," Dean Hofmeyer urged his account balance.

The wireless net was lagging again, most of the city's finite resources having been redirected to repelling the new attacks on the south wall. The attacks Dean would help turn back just as soon as his account updated. As an Elite Level Guardian he had access to some of the highest system priorities. His data feeds and information requests were usually processed before all but the most essential city activities, but even he rated lower than the safety of the city itself. A fact that right now seemed highly ironic, as he often was essential to the city's safety.

"About time," he said to himself, as his balance spiked upward. Ten minutes later he was inside his favorite shop, pushing rookies aside.

"Rank," he said sternly to one as justification for his cutting to the front of the line. It was all the wide-eyed youngster could to do to nod in awe and make room.

"Finally got the credits then Hofmeyer?" the weapon-smith behind the counter asked.

"Finally did," Dean agreed. "And you have my S-PUG?"

"Got it right here. Finished it yesterday, in fact," the weapon-smith replied. He retrieved the self-propelled utility glaive from a locked cabinet behind the counter and handed it over. Dean took a couple good steps away from the line and gave the implement a few unpowered swings.

"I take it you approve?" the glaive's crafter asked.

"I do," Dean confirmed. "Add it to the rest of my order."

"Already done."

Dean transferred the appropriate number of credits with a few taps of his wrist-top display. It nearly drained his newly flush account, but then the magnificent blade was worth it. He took a few more practice swings before heading towards the exit.

"Holy! That thing looked like it'd take your arm off!" exclaimed the rookie Dean had stepped in front of a minute earlier.

"Not quite," Dean replied, as he slid the glaive into the perfectly sized sheath at his side, "but you enemy's arm, that's another story."

"I'll bet," the rookie replied. "Be Brave out there!"

Dean nodded and continued on his way.

"It'll take their arm off unless your enemy happens to be a Cabal Hulk..." he muttered under his breath as he left the shop, "...then you get it caught in the the thing's shoulder and get to spend the next three weeks risking your neck slogging tech just so you can afford to have the armory craft you a new one."

(Nice image by the way!)

I'm digging the inertia optimizer!

bluerunner grimaced as he pulled his ship through another desperate max g turn. Two of the black angular fighters giving chase broke up in the atmosphere behind him, trails of fire and debris marking their inability to handle the stresses. The third, however, wisely attempted a shallower arc, and dipped more gracefully towards the blue green marble of a planet below. The edges of the enemy fighter glowed bright red as the additional air friction buffeted it about, but somehow its pilot managed to maintain control. A moment later it was again pointing starside, and had bluerunner’s larger, slower ship in its sights.

Shrill warning alarms denoting hull breaches, engine fires, fuel leaks, and a whole host of additional lesser catastrophes followed a series of gut wrenching, head jarring impacts that left bluerunner momentarily dazed. By the time he shook off the effects his ship was spinning and tumbling end over end. Images of green ground, blue water, and the blackness of space flashed by in rapid succession out the front window as bluerunner fought to save his mortally wounded spacecraft. Fortunately, a few control surfaces were still active, allowing him to correct his uncontrolled counterclockwise roll. A well timed burst of reverse angled thrust similarly ended the forward tumble. All that was left was to guide his ship to the ground as best as the situation allowed. The crash landing certainly wasn’t pretty, but he had made it… made it to the outskirts of old Chicago.

bluerunner donned his suit’s helmet before opening the door sealing the cockpit from the rest of the ship. He was glad he did, as a wave of smoke and heat rushed into the smaller room the moment he activated the door control. It was a struggle, but he made it past the internal wreckage to the ship's weapons bay where he retrieved a sidearm and his “Southern Twang” CSA1860 crossbow. A nearby overhead maintenance hatch got him on top of his doomed ship and out of immediate harm’s way.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” was the ancient saying that came to bluerunner’s mind as his staggered from his now burning ship. He’d barely survived an extended, three hour air and space battle with a blockading Glimmer carrier, only to be stranded deep in territory soundly held by The Fallen. The only thing he had going for him now was his training, and his silent, nearly untraceable crossbow. Before turning away bluerunner gazed up at the column of smoke rising from what remained of the best ship he’d ever had the privilege to fly. With a sorrowful shake of his head he activated his suit’s emergency beacon and proceeded into the nearby swamp of a city, cautiously hopeful that he had the tools he needed to survive.

There has been talk of some rebellious use of two bolts tied to one another and used to link objects or enemies to each other. This technique was dubbed "Duke Boys" after the local "Duke" street gangs of Durham invented the method during their insurgency on post-calamity Earth. Unfortunately, the Traveler's security perimeter was far too small to aid this dying rebellion, and they have since gone silent.

Bluerunner’s crossbow
comes alive in Destiny.
Twang, not bang, you’re dead.

Stephen Laughlin climbed out of the second of three yellow submarines making up the covert Guardian strike force. The Cabal, or Hive, or whoever it was that had made planetfall this time were clearly searching for something lost long ago from Earth’s culture. Stephen, Revolver in hand, aimed to make sure they found it.

Kermit’s unit had outflanked the enemy by securing one of the Reef’s many upper platforms amid its myriad of crisscrossing walkways. They had a full 360 degree field of view from their high perch, and what was obviously a main enemy supply route to harass down below. They killed more than a dozen supply vehicles and accompanying escorts before the enemy even located them. Unfortunately the order to pull out came a minute too late as an amazingly well thrown pulse grenade landed in their midst.

Two Guardians, both Awoken, fell to their deaths among the wreckage of the enemy supply line. Another, the unit’s lone Exo, was thrown clear of the Rift’s short range gravity field, fated to slowly drift towards the luminescent gas clouds that hung around the enormous structure. Only Kermit, who had barely managed to dive clear, was left on the platform. Through careful ammunition management, he was able to whittle down the enemy’s response force using the few weapons left by his squad. He expertly lined up what should have been the final kill shot only to have his final gun lock open, all its ammo expended.

Out of ammo, out of stored energy provided by the Traveler back at Earth, all Kermit could do was watch while his foe ascended the various stairs, elevators, and escalators, intent on killing him up close and personal. As the enemy soldier neared Kermit noticed that one of the Awoken had dropped its Horn of Morpheus. He gave the funny, shell shaped horn his mightiest blow, the one he reserved for inflating large pool toys, but to no avail. As the enemy charged, melee weapon in hand, Kermit did the only thing he could.

He threw the horn.

It was oddly comical, watching the soldier stumble over the railing as it tried to shield its face from the unexpected projectile. Kermit expected the horn to be swatted aside, not for it to save his life!

Kermit descended to the lower level and called for an evac. His after action report would be grim, noting the deaths of three of his closest friends, but he couldn’t help but smile just a little as he opened the Horn of Morpheus’ tactical manual and appended the words: “Surprisingly useful when thrown at close range.”

Alternatively:

Ragashingo studied the Horn of Morpheus’ tactical manual. Or at least he tried to. Conch? Somnolent? Time and time again his field dictionary reported: “Word not found.” Tying into the linguistic database was no help either, and only returned what were probably (possibly?) equivalents of “Word not found” in languages he didn’t recognize, much less understand. The footnote at the bottom of the entry did provide a momentary chuckle, however.

Unified City Intelligence
Applied Weapons & Research Section 07-4317.328
Case Report 13.92.03

We have begun close examination of the Sigivan Dees Artifact (a.k.a. "The Horn of Morpheus", "Shancu") and the recently acquired Electromagnetic Optical Distortion Keyboard (a.k.a. “Close to Know Return”). The composition of both instruments is far more intricate than previously believed and it is becoming evident that neither artifact is of purely Awoken origin, likely dating back much further than even the First Great Collapse.

Initial attempts at close analysis of the Sigivan Dees Artifact were met with significant...resistance, from the artifact itself. To date, we have lost 17 subjects in these attempts. They appear at first to slip into some form of somnolent trance; death occurs after 48 hours. Only two have returned after falling into the trance. Upon waking, they each recalled part of an identical melody they had heard, the beginning of which was transcribed as: E2, E3, E2, A2, E3, D3

Unified City Intelligence
Applied Weapons & Research Section 07-4317.473
Case Report 13.93.49

After extensive analysis, we have successfully conceived a hybrid device based on reverse engineered schematics from the Sigivan Dees Artifact and the E.O.D.K. This technology is beyond anything we have ever seen before. We are far from ready for production and testing but under pressure from the U.C.I. High Command, I don't believe we have much of a choice in the matter.

Unified City Intelligence
Applied Weapons & Research Section 07-4317.523
Case Report 13.94.56 PERSONAL, FINAL ENTRY

Oh God. The electromagnetic pulse knocked out the cameras but...

I managed to salvage what was left of the audio record.

Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. The subject is gone. The hybrid device is gone. There was an...explosion. The test chamber lies in ruins and half my team are in some kind of coma. I told them we weren't ready. We needed more time. I led him to the chamber and told him to activate the device. As soon as he touched the keyboard...he started to play and it was like he became something else entirely. I remember how it began...*singing* E2, E3, E2, A2, E3, D3. That melody...it turned to chaos...like a thousand robots farting in unison. Space seemed to ripple and tear apart around him...a hole opened, and he walked inside. Then he was gone. POOF!

Awesome musical easter egg ya got there Kermit :)

After Action Report: Band Night

Use of the Electromagnetic Optical Distortion Keyboard known as “Close to Know Return” is herby banned effectively immediately. Counselors are scheduled to arrive at 09:00 tomorrow. ETA of cranes to repair structural damage to barracks is currently unknown.

-- MrPadraig08, City Security.

Chewbaccawakka attached a pair of micro high explosives to his BOOMerang and threw it at the oncoming enemy. Sensing rapid movement the explosives armed themselves and awaited a second significant change in velocity.

"Hey, what's that!" Chewbaccawakka's squadmate said, pointing off to the left. The distraction was brief but disastrous…

Outpost K7's strategic location was essential to the defense of the City. K7's holding actions against multiple Vex, Cabal, and Fallen offensives had made it, and its defenders, legends in the tight knit Guardian community. Its fall left a gaping hole in the City's defenses. What follows is a composite video log of K7's last battle.

<ZackDark's Helmet Cam> Flat plains and a blue sky dominate the camera's feed. In the distance a river can be seen along the top of the image. The view shifts from left to right as ZackDark does a through scan of the landscape in front of him. Every third or fourth scan the view briefly shifts downward to a table and a deck of playing cards arrayed in what appears to be a Solitaire type layout. Guardian ZarkDark appears to be losing. Badly. On the fifth cycle of watchful observation and clearly frustrated card shuffling ZackDark breaks his routine, the view jerking up and to the right. Just visible, at extreme range, a column of Spider Tanks can be seen advancing. ZackDark glances downward and slams a fist into a sizable red button then readies a large, shoulder mounted anti-tank weapon.

<Interior Base Camera, Aimed At Entrance To Armory> Red lights along both sides of the hallway come to life, and an alert siren sounds. A single Guardian can be briefly seen rushing past the camera's field of view, weapon in hand. Two more slide to a stop at the heavy door marked Armory. One appears to enter a code on the keypad, but nothing happens. Even fully suited up his movements, and those of his peer, convey an obvious sense of distress.

<ZackDark's Helmet Cam> ZackDark fires his weapon's two rockets, the second rotating up into firing position as soon the first is away. The first rocket travels quickly towards the enemy units but is fired upon by several of the small spherical drones floating around the advancing Fallen column. It explodes uselessly still some distance from its target, but the second gets through, and strikes a Spider Tank which topples in a heap. A secondary explosion sends a plum of smoke stretching up into the sky. Seconds later the sound of all three explosions reach the outpost. A Guardian appears at the right edge of ZackDark's view holding a long barreled rifle. Sharp cracks and bursts of flame exiting the barrel indicate that he is firing at the advancing enemy. Multiple Fallen foot soldiers drop, but there are now obviously more than the one rifle, no matter how well aimed, will be able to stop.

<Interior Base Camera, Aimed At Entrance To Armory> The two Guardians are still attempting to gain access to the armory. One is now pulling at the door, trying to slide it open, while the other angrily tries several codes in sequence before slamming his into the keypad fist hard enough that the resulting thud can be heard from the ceiling mounted camera.

<ZackDark's Helmet Cam> The image from ZackDark's helmet cam darkens considerably as he unleashes an intensely bright burst of energy. The burst speeds across the battlefield and erupts into a momentary inferno, setting several Fallen ablaze. Even the advancing Spider Tanks pause for a moment as the wave of heat washes over them. ZackDark appears to be getting set to repeat his attack when his head suddenly turns towards the entrance of the base. An instant later he is in a flat sprint, his footfalls echoing off the outpost's metal flooring. He passes through the open door and rounds a corner using his hand to slingshot himself down a long hallway lit with red lights.

<Interior Base Camera, Aimed At Entrance To Armory> ZackDark races into view, apparently having been called to assist the other Guardians in their efforts to access the armory. He briefly looks at the smashed keypad, then seems to motion the other Guardians back. He moves with them, back down the hallway, and out of frame. A couple of seconds later same searing energy burst that he unleashed on the advancing Fallen screams down the hallway and impacts the stuck door, the sound of the explosion overwhelming the camera's microphone. The heavy door crumples inward into the armory, but only for an instant, as it is flung back out again into the hallway. A mass of hundreds, if not thousands of small furry, spherical creatures follow it, spilling out of the armory with plenty more still visible inside. One of the Guardians plows into the mass of creatures, desperately throwing them aside, each purring loudly as he touches them, but it is no use. There are too many of them and they are too tightly packed. Access to the armory is effectively blocked.

<Exterior Base Camera, Aimed At The City> Four Guardians can be seen fleeing the outpost in their four wheel drive all terrain armored vehicle. A short time later two pursuing Pikes speed into view, and trade fire with the retreating Guardians.

Get your Blades of the Traveller HERE! Made from the most durable metals and the choicest pieces of our favorite protector! Who needs a warlock when you have one of these heavily infused bad boys! For a limited time only, get your very own blade of the Traveller for half the normal credits, and we'll even throw in a couple free repulsion grenades, for when those Hive swarms get a little to close for comfort! You'll only find 'em HERE, at Ragashingo's Weapons Emporium!

*Sorry to defuse the whole mythic feel you were going for, but this immediately came to mind and I couldn't resist posting it :) Awesome weapon idea!

Ragashingo led his five man team through the pitch black caverns. They were dark and claustrophobic, and were only lit by their suits’ small illuminations systems. Still, it was better than being on the vastly over exposed surface, face to face with the Sun. Mercury may have once somehow supported life, thats what the ruins up above would suggest, but it certainly didn’t now. Being up there was like being in an oven. Down here, at least, it was only like being stranded in a narrow walled, low ceilinged desert.

“Contact. Silver reflective object around the next turn,” Ragashingo’s second in command reported over their comm channel. “It’s the door.”

“So the scouting team was right. There is a vault down here,” Ragashingo replied.

Accessing the vault was simple. The large number of shaped charges they used on the door made sure of that. Inside, the curved black rock walls of the cavern were replaced by silver-gray metallic walls lit by light panels mounted in the ceiling. The company’s boots clanked on the metal floor as they proceeded inside, but otherwise the vault appeared empty. There were no directional signs or markers, but the metal work, the way the seams and panels were evenly placed, felt Human. They were Human as far as Ragashingo was concerned.

Traveling through the Vault’s corridors was a slow process. Each curving hallway had to be mapped, each door at the end had to be marked, all before protocol allowed them to start digging into the riches they had potentially secured. Though secured was, perhaps, too strong of a word…

“Contacts! Contacts! Five light Vex units advancing. One survey unit at the rear.” Ragashingo’s second evenly reported.

They’d all been in combat before. A few low end Vex combat units would hardly slow them down. The team of Guardians handled the enemies by the numbers. One Titan at the front provided heavy fire and shielding while the other covered the rear. Ragashingo and his second, the group’s two hunters chipped away with their more accurate, longer ranged guns leaving the unit’s lone Warlock free to pound the enemy robots with powerful blasts, and debilitating distortions. Barely two minutes elapsed before the final Vex unit went down.

“It looks like they were guarding a room seventy meters ahead,” Ragashingo’s second reported a short time later as he continued scouting.

A door, cut open in the Vex’s usual oddly geometric breaching pattern, marked the location. With careful precision the team checked the entrance for more enemies, then one by one proceeded inside, with Ragashingo bringing up the rear. From the doorway the unlit, higher ceilinged room appeared to house assorted machinery, but everything changed the moment Ragashingo crossed the threshold.

Out of nowhere four armor clad figures, humans by the looks of them, appeared and took aim. The room was lit by crisscrossing exchanges of gunfire and energy, but it wasn’t until Ragashingo watched what seemed to be large caliber rounds pass harmlessly through his arm and chest that he realized what he was seeing wasn’t real. He turned and watched more of the enemy’s fire pass through him and spark and ricochet off the wall behind him. He had to admit that it was very convincing. Amazingly, his own team’s shots appeared to be hitting the enemy, but none of the newly appeared soldiers seemed to notice.

“Hold fire! They’re just holograms!” Ragashingo ordered. A moment later his team obeyed.

“Some sort of defensive program? To scare away unwanted guests?” Ragashingo’s second guessed, even as virtual bullets whizzed around him. But even as he said it, their make believe enemies obeyed a quick hand signal from what was obviously their leader and ceased fire as well.

“No… I don’t think so…” Ragashingo replied, “There’s something else going on here… I think.”

The leader of the mysterious soldiers approached Ragashingo and then, quite unexpectedly, snapped off a salute, which he held until Ragashingo hesitantly reciprocated. The soldier, by all appearances, seemed to be a human wearing some sort of advanced combat armor. The armor's various hardened plates glowed a gently pulsing white that somehow spoke to Ragashingo of intense power. Something about the armor seemed familiar somehow, but the familiarity of it danced at the back of Ragashingo’s mind, unwilling to reveal itself.

“Can you hear me? Understand me?” Ragashingo asked, putting the odd feeling aside.

The soldier nodded his helmet yes.

“Can you speak? Who are you? What is this place?”

This time the unspoken answer was no. Instead the soldier turned and gestured for Ragashingo to follow. Another hand signal had the rest of the soldiers forming up. They marched deeper into the room while their commander lingered behind, waiting.

“What is this?” One of the Guardians asked over comm, but nobody had a good answer.

Ragashingo, seeing no better option, ordered his own men into formation and cautiously followed. The soldiers led them through an exit on the far side of the room and back into the narrower corridors. They proceeded through several intersections, sometimes continuing straight, and other times turning to the left or right. What seemed to be sealed doors, like the one at the vault’s entrance and the one the Vex had cut through, slid open as the commander approached them. The vault must have been truly enormous given the distance they traveled and the numerous pathways they simply walked past. Finally though, the commander led them into a small, dark room. In its center was a strange spherical object, a machine of some kind, surrounded by four curved metal humps or tubes that connected to the floor. As the four soldiers approached it rays of light streaked from the sphere to their bodies, distorting them slightly.

“That must be the holo-generator,” Ragashingo’s second said softly.

The commander pointed to the sphere then unsheathed a short combat knife and dropped to his knees. He plunged his knife into the spherical object, as if trying to kill it. He was still for a second but then repeated his stabbing action, again and again, each time with more desperation. Finally, he rested his helmet on the sphere in obvious despair, before looking back at Ragashingo.

“He wants me to stab it,” Ragashingo told his unit as he pulled out his own combat knife, one of two Traveler Blades he carried with him. Then it hit him! The way his blade glowed and shimmered when close to The Traveler, it was the same as the glow of the four soldier’s armor! “Be ready… for anything,” he ordered before stepping towards the sphere.

The commander stood clear, and nodded as the other three soldiers under his command moved so that each stood near one of the tubes. Ragashingo nodded in reply then thrust his knife into the sphere. The room around him exploded into chaos as the various panels making up the floor, ceiling, and walls began randomly fading, revealing the black rock tunnel just beyond, or blazing so white they were hard to look at. The effects alternated so rapidly among the panels that it cased the room to blink as if lit by powerful strobe lights. It was so intense that Ragashingo had to squint his eyes shut despite the active filtering performed by his visor. An instant later it stopped and everything was dark once more.

“What on Earth?” Ragashingo’s second wondered aloud. Ragashingo couldn’t believe it either. The metal room had vanished. Even back down the hallway the metal of the vault had been replaced by the dark rock of the cavern that contained it. The vault… the entire vault must have been a hologram! But that wasn’t the strangest part of it, not by a long shot. The odd sphere remained at the center of the underground room, but surrounding it floated four wispy, indistinct figures. Each was connected by dim, blue glowing filaments to what seemed to be the remains of the four armored soldiers. Each of them lay dead on the cavern floor, and each of them was arrayed around the sphere in place of the now vanished tubes.

“Thank you for releasing us,” came the … ghostly… that was the only way Ragashingo could think to describe it… voice of the figure who floated where the soldier’s commander had just been. “Leave us or burry us, it does not matter, but take our armor back with you. Though damaged, it will prove useful if what I suspect has happened… has happened. And do not put too much faith in The Traveler, it is not entirely what it appears… Just Be Brave… and… I wish I could tell you more, tell you everything but… “ he paused then yelled, “Attention!” Salute!”

The four wispy, translucent figures straightened and, in unison, proceeded to give one final salute before being sucked back down into their respective bodies like smoke and fire being vented from an airlock.

Each of the four Guardians under Ragashingo’s command carried a fallen soldier back through the caverns, back tracking along the twists and turns the long dead commander had led them down. Ragashingo, himself, carried the mysterious spherical device that… that what? Had it killed the four soldiers? Had they died defending it?

So much remained unclear.
Why had the soldiers died? How had their… spirits… remained?
Why had a human looking vault been projected deep beneath the surface of Mercury?
What were the Vex doing they and how had they even found it?

The only thing clear to Ragashingo was that his team had accomplished their objective. They’d found new, ancient technology, and would soon return with it to Earth.

As heroes.

Gah! Now I'm in two stories as Ragashingo the shady, two timing, double dealing weapons dealer!

Anyway:

"I don't get why they call them Repulsion Grenades," Mr Daax commented after having scattered another swarm of Hive warriors, "I think they're quite nice!"

"Because they push, aka repulse, the enemy away, you dolt!" his squadmate replied.

An embarrassed "Oh…" was all Mr Daax could think to say in response.