Being a mercenary is never easy. It had only been a day since the job began. Of the original company, only two members had survived the trek into the heart of the Buried City. Mars was already a vicious and unforgiving world, and the constant Cabal patrols only made matters worse. Cauldron was a grizzled survivor of many of these failed treasure hunts. He scowled at the red dust that caked his scarred Titan Armor and walked up behind his comrade who was nervously glancing over a holographic map. “Simon, have you found our vault yet?” he asked, startling the Hunter to attention. “Y-yes, just beyond that loading dock should be the site that Osiris mentioned in the job description…” he stammered as Cauldron walked briskly past him. The city’s containment field had broken long ago, and the desert had wasted no time in greedily reclaiming the metropolis. Cauldron climbed the wind-scarred steps into the dimly-lit interior of the ruined building, halting in front an ancient steel door. He wedged his hand into a crack and pried the door open with his shoulder, dust billowing into the broken vacuum. “…I was going to hack that” Simon muttered. The duo stepped into the warehouse of a pre-collapse distribution center. The darkness was punctuated by the soft blue glow of scattered glimmer, illuminating a corpse that was only a few yards from the door. As they approached, the corpse twitched to life, slowly pulling its desiccated and flaking body from the floor, letting out a long wheeze. The darkness was suddenly ablaze with numerous green trifocal eyes which swiveled to face those who would dare to disturb their tomb. Simon let out a weak whimper. Cauldron sighed as he unslung his trusty autorifle from his back. Being a mercenary is [i]never[/i] easy.