[b]V: Operation Conversations – A D2 Short Story[/b] [spoiler]*drum roll* DRAAAAAAMA![/spoiler] Rys squints down the scope of his modified Beloved sniper rifle, peering at the Fallen squads hundreds of yards away below his position on a cliff. He lies on his stomach, hand resting near the trigger of his favorite weapon, his other hand held the gun firmly in place. By the looks of it, he had done this hundreds of times. And he had. “So this is your first op?” Rys asks Gerald, a small Titan much younger than him. “Yes, sir, first real one. I was placed with the 506th, but there was an incident, and…” “I heard about it,” Rys says solemnly. “Twelve students, ambushed by Hive, eventually joined by Taken, got killed in the cross fire. Very sad.” “Yes, sir. I was on lookout duty for my squad. No one made it out.” “Were you close with any of them?” Gerald pauses. “My brother,” he says quietly. Rys looks away from the scope and turns to the Guardian. “I’m so sorry.” “It was a year ago, sir. I’m much more capable now.” “I believe it.” Rys turns back to the scope. “And quit calling me ‘sir’. Gives me the weirds.” “Then why does Tetra do it?” “She knows it annoys me.” “Then why don’t you tell her to stop?” Now he pauses. “Because I love her.” Behind him, Gerald makes a face. “Gross. I thought you were a tough Warlock.” Rys chuckles. “I am. Tougher than most. But I still have feeling. Unlike Titans.” “Hey!” Gerald tries to sounds indignant, but Rys hears the smile in his voice. “Feeling is not weakness,” Rys continues quietly. “It is a strength. It is why as Guardians we are compelled to protect. It’s a part of our Light.” “Huh. I never thought of that before.” “There’s a lot to learn, my friend.” A voice crackles through Damian, Rys’ Ghost. “Rys, Gerald, it’s time. Fallen are ripe for the killing.” “Thank you, Tetra,” Rys replies. “Everything looks good on my end. Do your bit.” “Yes, sir.” Rys rolls his eyes, and Gerald restrains a laugh as he puts on his helmet. Through his scope, Rys sees a blur embed itself into the back of a Fallen dreg's skull, and Tetra emerges from behind a boulder and waves at him. “Showoff,” he mutters under his breath as he aims for a Captain. My finger slides over the trigger. [i]BANG![/i] The gun clicks as Rys reloads the chamber. “Go for Gerald. You’re clear.” “Yes, sir—I mean…uh…” “Just call me Rys, hotshot.” “Uh…alright, Rys.” The boy pauses, and nods to himself. In the span of ten seconds, Gerald felt his relationship with the legendary Rysedian Buern increase in status. It felt right. He scrambles off to his position. “Cute kid,” Tetra mutters to Rys through the comms. “Reminds me of you.” “Excuse me, madam, but I am a Warlock.” “Not like that. I mean demeanor.” “That’s an awfully big word for you. Where’d pick it up?” “Some idiot who spends WAY too much time in the Crucible.” Trinity's voice joins in. “And STINKS afterwards!” “Says the Hunter who secretly plays Gambit nonstop on the weekends.” “Alright, alright!” Tetra laughs. “I get it. We’re both competitive.” “Understatement.” “Very.” Trinity groans in the background. “You guys talk FOREVER to finish a conversation. Aren’t you supposed to be shooting the Traveler out of something, Rys?” [i]BANG![/i] The Ghost seethes. “I hate you.” I grin. “Your Guardian doesn’t.” “Watch it, buster,” Tetra replies.