Spread your wings. (Fan Fiction Contest)

A dead and desolate landscape with only giant monoliths and buildings to mark that life ever existed in this lost and ancient place. The surface was tortured by the air that still seemed to carry the screams and fires of the souls that died long ago here. Deep underneath, buried in the sands, was something far different from the surface that masked it, something lurked in the dark here. whispers and hushed screams filled the darkened corridors, the only [i]things[/i] that existed in this place were demented and tortured by the fallen. hostile to anything that so much as breathed. Determined only to protect the only thing they had worth taking, their [i]home.[/i] As we descend further into the darkness more is uncovered. Every level that we delve further the more the walls talk, the more "stories" that are force fed through our eyes, those stories we relive every moment we spend down here. But there are promises in the dark that keep us moving. There is a light down here. we just have to find it... we have to uncover it... [b]we cannot falter.... we cannot fail...[/b]else we suffer the fates of those before us and all those counting on us will suffer too. If we do find what we are looking for... if [i]it's[/i] here, we might just take another [i]step[/i] toward the next golden age. A new dawn for us all!

Winnoen was here. The dust - still alive in the air, the bones - still red where they broke, the buildings - looming toward the courtyard; all these things spoke of her passing. The smell of ozone hinted at her means. The lack of sound to her thorough nature. She had taken her time. The cabal scout nearest to the central plinth of the ruin had been stripped of armor down to the joints with which it had been fused to the creature's skeleton. Then it had been slagged until the blood boiled into the air and the nano in its veins had oozed in rivulets through the rust-colored sand. I knew this because Winnoen had taken none of these things with her. They were stacked, fused together in a macabre warning to the others. A warning that they clearly had not heeded. Three Juggernauts in various states of... not death, exactly. Disassembly. Methodical, surgical. She had removed armor, an eye, and just the front - Ghost says 3.4277 centimeters - of the creature's brain, up to the point where it stood, gaping, drooling, unaware of me or anything else. It would not move until it starved to death. The other two were worse. I envied her dispassion. Following in her footsteps, knowing it took me just a fraction of the time to pass through a given hunting ground than it took her, a fear grew in my mind. The Traveler had blessed her, same as me. And where I was conflicted, she was merciless. Where my marks felt nothing, she made hers suffer. And blessed she remained. I have learned all I need to. Ghost tells me that I have been in this ruin for two hours. Not long enough. At this rate, I will catch my sister.

4 of 5 Martin was worrying more every second as he piloted his ship into the Martian atmosphere. Fália was his good friend, and when she didn't return back from her scouting mission he was morbid and depressed that entire night. Missing guardians were classified as K.I.A. normally. The next morning however, when they classified her as a prisoner of war, the Titan did some digging around. The files described her last known location as Mars, now that wasn't right. He knew she was scouting on Venus because she had told him face to face before leaving. The files even mentioned a location, Charlemagne's Vault. Martin knew it vaguely. He knew it was a great place to loot, he knew it was a very large place, and he knew that it was very dangerous. As he landed on the harsh red dust that covered the planet he wondered who or what it was that would do this. The Cabal were the only real enemy inhabiting Mars and the culprit would have to be independent in nature to come here from Venus. He hoped Fália was okay. Charlemagne's Vault wasn't far off now. He looked at his G.P.S. to confirm the location and that's when his spirited lifted somewhat. The entrance to the Vault was only a mile away, but that wasn't what made the normally cool and controlled Titan gasp. Faintly, very faintly, blinking on the holographic screen was a small green dot, indicating that another guardian was nearby. She was here. Whether she was dead or alive, at least he had found her. The hulking soldier prepared for a fight when he walked up the steps to the entrance. Instead of a combatant though, he only found the cumbersome corpse of a dead Cabal Legionarre blocking the surprisingly small door cut out of the side of the cliff overshadowing it. He pushed the hundreds of pounds heavy body out of the way and examined the door more closely. Etched into it simply was the symbol of the emperor of the long fallen Holy Roman Empire, an authoritative iron crown. He was puzzled by this and walked inside, using all his strength to push the stone door inwards. Instead of the entrance he expected, he only found a strong looking spiral staircase descending deep into the darkness. "Damnit, I hate the dark." Martin whispered to himself before fastening a flashlight on the end of his shotgun and slowly descending. The staircase ended in a long dimly lit hallway. He walked with reflexes tensed and with caution, finding another dead Cabal on the other end. The hallway opened up into a large room lit only by high hanging chandeliers and the blue glow of Glimmer that was littered all over the floors. Martin had no mind for greed right now though, his only concern was finding Fália and killing whoever did this. He had determined that this was an intelligent being that had done this. No beast could have plotted such a masterful and precise course of action, and besides, it took skill to take down two, no six Cabal. Four more were heaped in a pile in the corner of the room. More cautious now then ever, Martin found a long ramp descending down into another section of the complex Vault on the opposite end of the chamber and followed it. The Vault followed a pattern like this for several more minutes until Martin, now scared out of his wits, felt that the Vault was hotter down here. Sweat dripped down his forehead inside his helmet. He felt that he was getting towards the deepest chamber as he descended an especially long ramp. This room was excellently lit for some strange reason, and the Titan removed the flashlight. He looked around and found a strange event going on far to his left. In the center of the left portion of the huge chamber a diabolical contraption stood. It seemed to be powering up, but this didn't disturb Martin so much as it slightly put him off. The real cause for disturbance was the great amount of insane giggling that echoed in the vast room originating from a person standing beside a large cage next to the machine. Colin couldn't help himself. He was so anxious to get started but the Milker needed to power up first. Fália was unconscious still. She had groggily waken up a couple of times, but he had taken care of that. "Hee hee hee hee!" He broke into another laughing spasm as the machine registered that it was ready. Martin watched with horror as the Warlock jumped up and down like a child in a candy store when the machine made a ghastly sound like a mix between a blood curdling scream and the grinding of gears. He came back to reality when he saw Fália in the cage. "Fália!" He yelled with relief to see that she was alive and breathing. Colin stopped in his crazed ecstasy and slowly turned around. Who was this?! Why was there a Titan standing in his home?! Who dared to invade him in his moment of triumph?! "Who the -blam!- are you?" He asked with pure curiosity. "Whoever he is," said the diseased portion of his mind, "I should kill him now." "Let her go, now." Was all Martin said before he rushed at the Warlock, shotgun raised. Colin took a deep breath and thrust his left hand outwards. A black bolt of energy lightninged at Martin's feet and sent him flying. Everything was a blur, all Fália saw was stars and...what was this? Lying just outside of the cage she found herself in was something that would do her just fine. That bastard. Martin was unfazed as he shot back up and whipped out the rifle strapped to his back. Colin took cover behind the thick metal Milker and knew that the intruder would have to reload sometime, and when he did.... Fália struggled but eventually got to her feet. She used what she found to break open the door to her freedom and her revenge. That bastard. The sound of the bullets exploding from Martin's rifle drowned out all others. He would destroy that crazed Warlock. He would have at least, if his barrel hadn't ran out of ammo. This was his chance. Colin ran out and jumped. Arms high, the power of eleven guardians including himself flew down into his fingertips. Contact was made, deadly force used, and a dead guardian crumpled to the floor.

3 of 5 She was going to kill the bastard. No matter what it took or however long it took her, Fália wouldn't rest until she saw a knife through his throat. That warlock had betrayed her twice only for his own personal gain and she was determined to get even. The growl sounded closer now and her wrist was stick attached to that infernal pipe. Fália had no choice but to wait and she knew that whatever she was waiting for was not going to be happy to see her. A sudden sound echoed through tunnel, it was the slow clack of what sounded like hooves on the frosty cold concrete of the floor. The huntress wasn't surprised in the least by the coupling of the two sounds and knew it could only mean one thing. The smell of rotting meat was palpable as the green glow filled the tunnel. The growling and clacking were unmistakably close as it revealed itself from the darkness of the tunnel and confirmed Fália's suspicions. The space zombie's drool formed a trail as it slowly made it's way toward the cornered guardian. She had no idea how it had gotten into Old Russia, let alone how it had came to be on Earth. The Hive was only supposed to be present on and around the outer bodies. It must have gone through a lot to get there though. The damn thing was starving. normal Hive are already skin and bones, but this creature was ROTTING. That solved the mystery of the smell, and the three small holes meant to be eyes drilled in its skull by some cruel world's evolution had been the source of the green glow in the tunnel. Fália stood up as far as the waist high pipe would allow and prepared to defend herself. Colin, being the asshole that he is, had taunted her by taking and placing her shock dagger right outside of her reach. The half dead Hive picked up speed now, getting a fresh whiff of her scent. It closed in and lunged with both arms, razor claws spread wide. She dodged to the right, tripping the bedraggled creature over the chain. It barked and hissed as she stood over it and efficiently stomped its head in with her boot. Her quick wits gave her a bright idea. Kneeling over the limp body of the zombie, with great force she ripped out one of its long razor sharp teeth and started cutting through the rusted iron of the pipe that trapped her. There was almost an irony in her escape; her use of her peril as a means of freedom was almost poetic in circumstance. Fália had no inclination to try and radio a return ship from the city as she made her way out of the wall and into the rusted husk of what used to be a powerful empire. She had a score to settle before she went back to her superiors. Being a huntress, she was especially adept at tracking and quickly found the warlock's trail. She would track him to the ends of the solar system if she had to. He seemed to have made shelter in the smaller housings and buildings and not any that the Fallen would bother to inspect. She had to remember that this wasn't any normal enemy. This was a fellow guardian, ruthless and cunning, willing to do whatever was needed to survive. He made that quite clear with the note he wrote her after he betrayed her in the wall. Not to mention, he also intended on taking her powers for himself before she had given him a good blast in the side from her hand cannon and was forced to jump ship. That was another thing to consider. Even though the Fallen had tended to his wound, it was bound to be bleeding again by now. He must have been weakening this entire time. That was also most likely the reason he left her to the Hive rather than finishing her off himself; either that, or he was just being nice...bastard. She spotted something in the distance. Crouching behind a rock, she used the binoculars programmed into her helmet to get a closer view. It was. It was him. He was a good three mile away, but he was struggling. "Not so tireless after all; huh, Exo?" She murmured under her breath as she continued to jog on after him. Colin made his way deeper into the city. She tracked him to a rusted office building on the outskirts of the once great city. He was really losing blood by this time. Fália could see the crimson fluid splattered all over the floors and walls. She silenced herself now, knowing she was drawing closer. Moving very slowly and very carefully, she saw the light of a fire in the centre of the floor. Taking cover behind a cubicle, Fália peered behind the corner and saw him. It didn't make sense. He was standing there with as much strength in himself as when she met him, poised and standing in a way that just gave off a sense of self control. He was also looking straight at her. She knew he had planned all of this now and strode out to face him. "Did you really think I was weakening that much? I didn't suck the power and souls out of 10 guardians for nothing Fália. It's going to take much more than that to kill-" He had to duck to avoid the knife launched at his chest. "Okay that's it you bitc-" The kick in the crotch was simple payback. Colin collapsed and narrowly missed being kicked in the face several times. He rolled to the left through the fire he created from several mouldy office chairs and came up arms ablaze and blind jabs flying. Fália was a huntress after all and her reflexes greatly outmatched his. She dodged his blows easily and kicked him to the ground again. "-blam!- you." was all she said before she planted her boot on the beaten warlock's chest, pulled the dagger out of the wall, and was blinded by a searing light. She sliced wildly and even hit her mark a few times, but something hit her head hard and the last thing she heard before she fell unconscious was Colin's voice saying: "Nice try. That hurt greatly, but this isn't the first time I've been beaten in hand to hand combat. A compressed nova bomb will normally shift the fight in my direction. The knee to the head doesn't hurt either. You almost got me but your powers are mine now."

2 of 5 High above the cold dark expanse of Old Russia, free falling a mile up, Fália was in a panic. That warlock bastard Colin had underestimated her and hadn't anticipated her to have a hand cannon strapped to the inside of her cloak, which was currently gripped incredibly tight in her hand. She'd given the crazy asshole a good blast in the side before she'd jumped ship. As she fell, thoughts raced through her head at insane speeds. She knew that there was only a very dim glimmer of hope she could possibly survive this, but she was prepared. She sighted her savior and knew it would hurt, very much so. The ground was rushing up faster, and now that she was below the lowest hanging clouds, an icy lake came into view, but it was at least a hundred yards to her right. Luckily, she remembered her jump pack. Under normal circumstances, she used it to reach vantage points while she was scouting or providing cover for her fellows, but this wasn't a normal circumstance. She pushed it to the brink and hoped for the best before she hit and everything became murky and black. The huntress awoke to great pain and a vicious and ugly sound, and she knew it could only be the voice of a Fallen. She instinctively grasped her side for her hand cannon but only found the cold metal of her leg armor. groggily, Fália's vision came to her and she found herself very suprised. Firstly, she was suprised that she was staring at the ground as she quickly realised that she was being carried. she tried to turn her head to view her carrier but that only sent a wave of pain through her body. She looked up, which was less painful and found her suspicions confirmed; it was a squad of Fallen. Damnit. They must have fished her out of the lake and taken her prisoner. Her second suprise came as she found who was being pushed and jabbed to walk faster behind her, the one and only power-crazed bastard Colin. It gave her pleasure to see that the wound from her hand cannon was deeper than she had originally thought. He raised his head, saw that she was awake, and smiled. "Hello there!" He said weakly and coughed, "You gave me quite a scratch you know, but it's nothing I can't handle." He gasped and flinched as the fallen behind him elbowed him hard on the head and pointed to his rifle to indicate to Colin to shut up or he would do it for him. He gave her one last glance and lowered his head again. They walked on for a few more miles and made camp under a starless night. The Captain, a large and especially ugly Fallen, personally tied them up in the center of the camp and managed to spit a few bogies at his two prisoners. A couple hours later, the two guardians had had their wounds tended to, only for the purpose of them having their health so their didn't keel over before torture and interrogation could be performed. They rested long enough to be able to form a plan. "There's no way that I'll team up with you, you prick." Fália was somewhat hesitant. "You know you'll never survive the torture," the warlock tried to persuade her, "and you'll never get out of here without my help." She knew he was right and had no choice but to comply. They formed their plan and waited for morning. At sunrise, they enacted their strategy. At gunpoint, Fália and Colin were slowly untied by two Dregs that grumbled under their breaths as they worked. The instant they were both untied, Colin took action. He stood up and cracked his neck, then he did something the Fallen didn't expect. Moving quickly, Colin thrust himself at the Vandal holding the gun and knocked him to the ground. Before the other Fallen could react, they all had either been blasted to bits or stabbed in the back by Fália, who had grabbed a shock dagger from one of the fallen Fallen. At the back of the camp, the Fallen Captain had been violently awoken by the shaking of an explosion. He ran out of his tent to find his men being slaughtered by the prisoners. This simply would not do. He activated his radio and issued a command to the rest of his squad that had found something special earlier that night. Fália and Colin sprinted away from the camp as fast as they could when they heard it. "Damnit!" Colin yelled as he ran from the bulletstorm flowing from his ship, "I forgot! They found me unconscious in it! I had just enough time to land before I blacked out!" "You deserve it bastard!" "Oh will you just shut up!" He stopped running and turned around. "What the hell are you doing?!" "Ending this shit!" He widened his footing and took a deep breath. A dark aura surrounded him as he focused his powers. Colin suddenly thrust his hands out above him and a black energy shot out from them, hitting the ship. The sound stopped all the Fallen following on foot. The screech of metal or metal and the booms of the explosions inside the cargo ship crippled the hyper sensitive ears of the alien creatures. The pair of escapees ran on, unfazed by it. They made it into the night. Fália's G.P.S. led them to the city wall, where they took shelter in the maintenance hatchways. The next day came and Fália knew she had been betrayed again. She woke up only to find that Colin was gone and that her arm was shackled to a pipe. She would have screamed curses at the world if not for an alien growl she heard disturbingly close. In a panic, she looked around to find something to defend herself with. Stopping, she noticed a note scrawled on a degrading newspaper. Simply, it read "Survival of the fittest, Fália-love Colin."

Sorry for going over the cap. Here's the edited version. No title. I see where are mission is taking us. A building two clicks of our position. Supposedly there are supplies in there. The Fallen are also there. I look at my comrades, a real motley crew. Some I just met, others I've known, but each has my respect. We advance forward, watching for patrols. As we move, an unusually large patrol exits the building. Twenty, followed by another ten, each carrying a crate of supplies. Before we can mobilize we notice something horrid. They have hostages. If we move, they die. I've killed many of the Fallen throughout my missions, never phased by the blood. But could I risk having the blood of a [i]human[/i] on my hands? Before I can give a command, my own charge in. They will declare the hostages having sacrificed their lives for humanity. Seeing their blood spilled on the sand makes me wonder if we have not already lost it. There are times where I question what we do to save ourselves. The violence, the loss. I wonder why we don't just die, escape. There are times where it feels like we have. But then I look up. I see it there, above our city. Hope for humanity. I realize that we don't give up because we can't. Humanity is something we humans don't give up, and seeing the Traveller there, above our species, above our world, I realize that we have a future. A future of joy, happiness, peace. The only way to get there is use what's been given to us and take back what is, and always will be, ours. So I step forward, strong in my conviction, gun in hand, and begin my mission. Praying for our dead. For our living. For myself. For our future. For our Destiny.

[i] I've given it a lot of thought- how I feel about this place, that is. This Buried City, this broken monument to the former glory of mankind. Its wretched stench, piercing even my advanced respiration systems, makes me nauseous. The dilapidated skyline is pathetic. It is complimented well by the tattered remains of society, including rusted cars, debris, and broken housing environments, which pepper the view at street level. Until you reach the Dunes of Metropolis, that is. Massive deposits of sand, collected against the buildings still grasping for the heavens, hide half the landscape, showing only the battered tops of the previous existence below. A pitiful sight to behold. These deposits slowly grow and regularly release particles back into the air, choking any hope for survival without proper filtration apparatus. They also provide the benefit of casting a sickly orange glow on the region, as the sun's unrelenting rays carve paths to the scorching hot surface. It is only by understanding how utterly miserable this place is that I remember why I came here: like most others, to scavenge like a rat. Digging into the Dunes of Metropolis and ransacking the Station for leftover supplies is commonplace. The occasional exchange of pleasantries, or lethal discharges of ammunition, still take place. The latter is happening right now, in fact. The towering skyline provides me a point of reference, as I weave from broken buildings into a debris dump bordering the base of the Dunes. Rising from cover, forcing my opponent to face the blazing sun, I fire a single round. The familiar hiss of a punctured oxygen tank blesses my ears. Taking in the sounds of a windpipe deprived of clean oxygen, I resume my stroll across this Buried City, which I love [b]so much[/b].[/i]

The sand kicked up beneath the Titan’s boots as he strolled through the desolate alleys of the forsaken city. This city was one of the many long lost relics of humanity’s past – a Golden Age unlike any other the world had seen before. What drew him to the city? Was it for the treasures that could be found beneath the sands? Was it just to remind himself of the past and what he was fighting for? He had ventured beyond the safe haven of the walls that surrounded the Last City so that he could protect humanity. His intent was to be noble, courageous, and selfless when he left his only home behind him. Now in this husk of a city did he question himself. Was he really doing this for humanity? Did greed for treasure overcome him? What he did not know was this city – though it looked empty – was still alive. Dangers lurked in the old buildings, enemies who wished root out humans stalked the ruins. But it was not just the aliens that were a threat; other treasure hunters scavenged the empty halls of the buildings. The Titan, who was one to keep up an appearance of courage, was disheartened at the abandoned city. The sound of shrieks echoed through the alleys as a group of Fallen rushed out to attack the lone wanderer. The Titan fired at them, steadily walking back to put a wall behind him to avoid being flanked. The enemies continually came at him, but a loud crack filled the air. Perched in the ruins of a building was a Hunter who fired his rifle at the onslaught of Fallen. “Why is he here?” Thought the Titan, “What drives him?” But this question had to wait for the time being.

The wind swept wide and the wind swept low. Sand lifted and fell. Dust swirled. The searing sun pounded the back of Mandroreyayl Derowin, his grey cloak doing little to stop its punishment. Mandroreyayl lay, stretched out on a small dune overlooking the ruins of a city. Mandroreyayl lay, stretched out wounded. Dying. He could only watch as a small contingent of Cabal marched toward the ruins. It took far too much effort for the Guardian to lift his head. His right arm lay outstretched from his body, bent and bloody. His breathing was hard and ragged. His throat burned and his body felt like fire. [i]Damn, Cabal.[/i] Mandroreyayl let out a hoarse cough as he tried to work his left arm. At least that still worked. He began to work his legs. When he felt no pain, Mandroreyayl pushed himself up with his working arm. He let out a groan when as he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he could see that his armor was broken through by some shrapnel. Mandroreyayl began looking around and his heart sunk. He bit off a cry at the scene before him. Bodies were all around him. Guardians and Cabal alike. His dry eyes teared up as he gazed upon his friends he had known for years. Mandroreyayl stumbled over to his nearest comrade and cradled her head in his lap. He reached deep down into himself, crying out toward the Traveler and the powers it gifted. [i]Please, just live. Don’t leave me alone.[/i] Brilliant light shone from his hand and enveloped the dead Guardian. Nothing. The dead remained dead. Mandroreyayl’s heart calmed, his breathing became even. Rage filled him. The Traveler’s powers filled him as he stood and hobbled toward the Cabal. Dead remained dead. That never changes.

For the first time in my memory, my feet dragged. I was tired – exhausted, even. My head was starting to feel woozy, and the sky was populated by swimming black dots. Much more of this and I would certainly pass out. According to my HUD, target location was only another two-hundred meters out. My whole body longed for rest, a chance to plop down and empty my canteen. Once this stupid objective was complete, my contractors would supply me with everything I needed. Up ahead, what looked like a stony outcropping in the wind-blown sand came into view, only it wasn’t stone. It was a metal building. [i]The[/i] building. I turned. “What’s up, Grinch?” I heard the voice crackle through my radio. It belonged to Dave, the new black-op sniper standing behind me with his team. “This doesn’t look like a tango to me. Ain’t nothin’ here but us and dirt.” “They’ll be here,” I promised, struggling to keep my voice steady. If he even [i]detected[/i] a lie… “I’ll set up on top of this hill,” Dave decided. “If anything moves, it’ll be dead before it can say ‘ouch!’” Before I could respond, he disappeared up the sandy slope. The rest of the warriors shifted awkwardly. “I guess we’ll load up,” said one, cocking his rifle. “No,” I said firmly. “Wait.” Echoing footsteps rung out as Dave mounted the metal structure. His eyes were already darting around the vast landscape like a hawk’s, sniper at the ready. I held my breath. Seconds passed. “I see movement!” he cried. “Get ready!” Three shadowy figures emerged from behind a dune close by. Straight away, one looked right at me and nodded, as eerily and deliberately as a ghost. The signal. Without hesitation, I drew my pistol at Dave and pulled the trigger.

The one and his gun is the title I am a warlock I like to head in and kill everything usually. I love to not have to reload my weapon until all my enemy's are killed and if that fails who needs backup I have ammo. And if I run out of bullets then melee kills for the win. When the dust hit me I never thought I would see this much dust. This is an old city I walked in and I seen a sign that said enter at your own risk I laughed at this and continued to walk into the city I had a feeling that someone is watching any way. I went on until there was a wired noise and next thing I know the place starts to shake I fell into a hole I then got up and there was a door that leads into a cave. I contained into the cave until something shot me then it jumped out from behind me this thing went to stab me with my own knife I grubbed this creature and throw him to the wall. Then I went over to him and the creature tired to crawl away I got my knife and ran it true him. I seen a switch I turned it on and out came a gun that spoke and said I will guide you to the riches that you seek. so I picked it up it was a little heavy for a rifle I looked to see what the rounds were and there was none the voice said I don't use rounds I charged up from sun light and I was put here to help the person that found me and your that person but the riches are not here but I can help.