Do Guardians Remember "Is it possible?" droned the mechanical voice of a Ghost, a sort of desperation to it's voice, if a floating A.I. could manage such. It's angled body opened outward into a wide, glowing sphere of blue light. "There you are." A flash, then a sudden sensation of warmth. A breath of air rushing through lungs, it tasted filtered and stale, almost artificual. Lying on his back, muscles amongst his body twitched, and he could feel movement returning to his limbs. His vision was pitch black behind the helmet now hiding his features, light returning to his eyes with a soft click, the electronics humming to life. Met with a view of the clear skies, clouds rolling amongst the sea of blue above. First he lifted his arms, bringing those now armored hands into view. Gloves....armored gloves, was the first thought that rushed to his mind. What's going on, where am I? Then an onslaught of memories came flooding forward, all at once, a jumbled mix of life long past, but how far past, he could no longer remember. He could resist, but perhaps these memories could lead to answers to what was going on now. So he let the walls of his mind down, and allowed the flood forward, crashing over him such overwhelming force, he couldn't hear the voice echoing to him where his body remaind. He was standing on the edge of the Cosmodrone, alarms were blaring from the walls of that massive rocket yard. This used to a place of new life, families boarding ships to carry them into the beyonds of own own galaxy, to start lives on the other worlds we'd been colonizing. Now, it was a place of panic, people running and screaming, fleeing from an enemy they had never known, let alone seen before. He was part of that crowd mere moments ago, shuffling his younger brother forward. A broad, strong man, he did not appear as strong as he looked, but in this Golden Age looks were deceivng. He used his size to his advantage, barreling over those who got in his way, his need that great to see his flesh and blood on one of the last ships escaping Earth. Now, with the last of his family safely leaving the planet, something turned him back. The alarms blaring outside had changed, voices on the loud speakers claming that the enemy was headed in their direction, right for the Cosmodrone. Right for the very ships he and all these others thought would be their salvation. Anger replaced fear, determination replaced that anger. He ran against the crowds, pushing and shoving toward the very entrance he'd fought so hard to get through minutes earlier. There were soldiers outside, but these four armed abominations were proving too much for him. It was all over the news, nations all over the planet falling to these demon-like creatures and their flashing weaponry. No matter, he thought. It's not like they'll turn down the help of anyone, let alone a baker. It was that voice, that dry robotic voice, that dragged him back to reality for but a second. "Guardian, eyes up Guardian," it went on. "It worked! You're alive!" The Ghost sounded remarkably surprised. Though, he was only there a moment, mind reeling back to those memories in just those few seconds. He was back in the Cosmodrome, his breathing quick and steady, ducked behind a crashed car on the road to avoid incoming fire. He'd only been there perhaps, ten minutes, before he realized how overwhelmed they were, how little they stood a chance. One of their ships, some tadpole shaped monstrosity with four turrets came down, firing one pounding volley of rounds near their position after another. Within the first three strikes, he could see two of the Cosmodrone's guards had gone down, broken and bloodied on the cement, eyes no longer containing any hint of life. He'd never witnessed death before, let alone dealt with it so directly. He fought back the urge to vomit, rose to one knee, and steady his rifle atop the hood of the car he'd ducked behind. He was so unfamiliar with weaponry, it was sad. Each shot went wild, few struck home, but when they did, it was another screeching creature down. Their howls, it was unnerving how often they howled, like their deaths meant nothing as they continued to pour forth from that dropship. All he could do to steady himself was to think of the people escaping on ships behind him. If he could only hold out a few more seconds. One trigger squeeze, another, then another. Click. Click. Click. His mag was empty. Panic was immediately settling in. It was then he'd noticed the gunfire had stopped on both sides, no one was shooting back at him. Suddenly, another flash, he was back with his body. Had the little robot been talking the entire time? If he'd been speaking, he hadn't registered any of it until now. "-you've been dead a long time. So you're going to see a lot of things you won't understand." The little blue eye of the Ghost blinked, then his floating body turned away from his Guardian, looking off into the distance just as a howl echoed outward, and it was quite close. "This is Fallen territory, we aren't safe here. I have to get you to The City," there was a deep sense of urgency in that small voice. The Guardian turned to where his Ghost had looked, and spotted what his little friend had spotted. The Fallen. The face, the arms, that scream. In that second, his mind left his body again, back to the flood of memories. How he wished he'd of been paying attention. In his eagerness, and his nervousness, the enemy had flanked him, and surrounded him. He had never realized he was alone, everyone around him dead in a flash, before he'd even run out of ammo. There atleast six Fallen surroundign him. In that instant, a loud rumble shook the ground beneath their feet. The ship! His brother's ship! It was off, carrying his only family to safety, he had bought them enough time with his meager efforts. It was not to last, though, two dropships dropped out of warp, and both began to pelt that little ship with fire. These were escape ships, not war birds. They didn't have any kind of armor, they'd been built with speed in mind, and so it didn't take long for the ship to erupt. He was knocked back off his feet from the force alone, feeling a pinching pain in two spots along the middle of his back, all while screaming, "No! No no no!" With tears pouring from his eyes, he glanced downward, the pain in his back had spread to his chest. Looking down, two long arcblades were sticking out of his chest, as he'd fallen toward one of those four armed filth after the explosion, only to be caught by blow that would end his life. They'd gone up through the middle of his back, protruding from his chest through his ribs. How was he alive? This made no sense. In that moment, he felt a surge of warmth. Despite the knowledge he knew was dying, someting wonderful came over him, a sense of power...a sense of justice. This sensation kept him on his feet. His arms radiated with light, trickling down to his hands. Without any further words, he knew what to do. He took hold of the grief, the anger, the hated, and bottled it up within himself. He used those emotions, picture it all like a wave of force being driven through his arms and into his fists. He brought up both arms, slammed his elbows backward one after another into the chest of the Vandal that held him, knocking himself free of it's grip. With arcblades still inside him, he took two steps forward. He upraised his arms, fists balled so tightly his knuckles had gone white, and drove them downward with all the might left in his body. When his fists made contact with the ground, the world around him exploded with light and arc energy. Hit with such force, a crater formed around him as the ground caved inward. All of the Fallen that had surrounded him with flying, limp bodies slamming into the cars around him, and hit the ground to never get up again. Their blood coated the ground where they lay. This was the only retribution he could muster, the only form of revenge he had left, before he collapsed to the ground. Eyes closed, and without another word or a sound, the light and the life went out of him with the exhale of his last breath. Then he was back, for in his death, he found his life. The Fallen, this he was familiar with. If nothing else made sense, this he knew atleast to some measure. He knew the name of his foe, now, if nothing else, that was enough. He turned his head to look at his Ghost. "Hold still." He was gone in a disintegration of light. "Don't worry, I'm still with you. We need to move, fast. We won't survive long in the open like this, we need to get inside the wall." The Guardian was off in a sprint, headed for the wall and the doorway ahead. His Ghost mentioned finding a weapon. That's all I need, was his final thought on the way in. And this time, things will go much, much different. He found the old rifle his Ghost had mentioned. It felt familiar this time around. This time, his aim hit their marks. He'd leave a trail of Fallen corpses on his way to The City. He didn't remember his brother's name, his face, or even his age. He remembered the ship being destroyed. That was all the motivation he needed, there was no need to speak of it.

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