[i]Damn, but it's cold.[/i] The thought had already passed through the Hunter's mind hundreds of time that night. He shifted slightly, trying to make himself comfortable. His perch, overlooking the decayed city, kept him mostly shielded from the Martian winds, but every now and then, a stiff breeze would seek him out, chilling him even through his cloak and armor. [i]Damn, but it's cold.[/i] He'd hoped to have fallen asleep hours ago. Since his vehicle had broken down two days ago, he'd been humping it across the Exclusion Zone, avoiding Cabal patrols. No man went against Cabal soldiers without his fire team backing him up, and it had been some time since the Hunter had been able to rely on that backup. "Damn, but it's cold." The Hunter was instantly standing, combat knife in hand, looking for the source of that voice. He knew that voice. It had been a week since the last time he'd heard the Titan's voice. It had been a week since the Titan died. He stood still, head cocked slightly, waiting for the voice to speak again. But instead of the Titan's gruff bass, a quieter voice said softly, "You don't have to tell me twice." It had been a week since he'd heard that voice, too. The Hunter stood for a moment longer, then sheathed his knife and sat back down, leaning against the wall. "Shut it, you two," he said. "I'm trying to sleep." And so he did.