A familiar song and dance many have heard before plays out in a time not unlike our own. Two Guardians stand facing each other down. One is a Hunter whose left hand holds a hand cannon bathed in solar light. The other; a Warlock holding a spear covered in the rime of Stasis in his right.

But how did it end up like this?

Elsie Bray kneels next to the body.

His armor is thick, and a perpetual layer of Dark rime crackles over his skin. A Dark Guardian. Elsie sighs, standing up.

She stops as she sees it: a smoldering hole in the center of the Titan’s face.

A Golden Gun bullet.

He’s still active? Elsie muses, turning back to her Sparrow. Perhaps…

Elsie mounts her Sparrow and speeds off, kicking up dirt and detritus in her wake.

As she speeds off she can hear the echo of gunfire in the distance.

As the engine roared from her Sparrow she quickly passed another by another corpse she barely caught a glimpse of in her wake. From what she saw it was another Dark Guardian with 5 arrows puncturing their chest as the snow was stained a prominent crimson. Another Golden Gun wound in the skull as well.

She was afraid to see him. See what he had become.

A Hunter scrambles backwards, crawling on the ground like an insect. Scorch marks stretch across his body and bullet holes riddle his lower body. Despite the wounds, there is no blood. They were instantly cauterized.

The other Hunter stalks forward slowly, flaming gun in hand. His green mechanical eyes burn beneath his hood with unbound fury and hatred. The Dark Guardians raises his hands in surrender.

“P-Please,” The Guardian says as the flaming Hunter raises the Golden Gun to his head, “Have m-mercy!”

The Gunslinger pauses, staring down at the Dark Guardian with disgust. “There is no mercy.”

He pulls the trigger, the deafening sound echoing across the tundra of Europa. The golden bullet pierces clean through the Dark Guardian’s head and into the ice below him.

The Hunter stood there quietly looking at the latest corpse in his collection. He breathed in deeply and shook his head in annoyance. He feels someone approaching him from behind.

The crunch of ice alerts him of the approach of another figure.

“Hi, V,” Elsie says.

Viper-7 doesn’t turn. “Elizabeth.”

Elsie shivers, he called her by her full name. The characteristic mirth in his voice long since gone, replaced by this cold, hard truth he’d learned. His voice was no longer warm, no longer inviting. A laugh hadn’t escaped his lips in years.

He could always bring a smile to any situation no matter how bleak things looked. But no longer. The Hunter she had once known was gone. What stood before her was no longer someone she called friend. But just a hollow shell.

They stand there for a long moment, Viper’s back to Elsie.

“V…”

“Viper.” He corrected her harshly with that cold indifferent tone of his.

She paused. Hurt by the loss of that familiarity she had with The Hunter over something as simple as his name. She looks at him seeing the trademark cloak of his former Vanguard Leader, Mentor, and Father Figure has lost a lot of it’s color and has seen it’s fair share of battles now.

What was once The Hunter’s most treasured and prized possession looks like it could fall apart any second. The cloak which was this well taken care of and cleaned replica of The Vanguard Dare Cloak was tearing apart at the seams. The cloak was dirty and covered in various scorch marks, cuts from blades, rips probably by his own hand, and just how frayed it was at its ends filled Elsie with dread at the things Viper has possibly been through.

“Viper, I need your help.”

Viper turns his head to the side.

“We can fix this. All of this.”

“You’ve said that before,” Viper counters softly. “And look where we are now.” He kicks the body of the Dark Guardian hard causing Elsie to flinch slightly. “There’s no more hope. They’re all gone, Elizabeth.”

“Not all of them.”

Viper pauses for a moment realizing who she’s speaking of. He shakes his head pushing down unwanted memories of someone he would’ve once called his Brother and Friend. He takes in a deep breath and let out a long hard sigh.

Viper fully turns to look at her. Sorrow swells in her heart as she meets his gaze, which reflects many lifetimes of pain. His eyes no longer gleam with mischief, but are dull with age and apathy. Even though the Exo’s appearance hadn’t changed, his eyes looked old. Weathered.

“He fully forsake the Light a long time ago,” Viper responds.

“But there is still hope,” Elsie tells him.

Viper scoffs at that statement.

“If we get to him, we can bring down Eris’ entire empire.”

Viper looks at her with this pessimistic glare. The years have been harsh on the Hunter. He’s buried many friends and many who he once called “friend” that had forsaken the Light for the power of Stasis and it’s corrupting influence.

“He’s her right-hand, and if we get to him, we can get to her. We can fix this, Viper.”

Viper’s gaze returns to the body at his feet. He holsters his hand cannon.

Emotions start welling up inside him as he stares at the corpse by his feet. Anger for the betrayal he felt for what happened, sadness over being unable to guide him back, grief over watching him kill their mutual friends, unbridled rage as he harmed Aria and destroyed her ability to speak. Every fiber of his being easily said it’s a lost cause but the words that escaped his mouth surprised him.

“Where is he?”

TO BE CONTINUED