#which exo is incapable of but ya know

[suuho]

we need this man in the exo comeback

[bittersweetbiscotti]

A Murder of Misfits

Chapter 3 - Fireteam Corvidae

Fandom: Destiny 2

Rating: M for language, violence, and general unpleasant happenings

Ships: The Crow & Female Guardian (platonic)

Characters: Original Female Guardians, the Crow, and pretty much everyone else makes an appearance

Tags: Platonic Relationships, Found Family, Action/Adventure, Survival Horror, Humor with a lot of underlying angst, Canon-typical Violence, a bit of blood and gore, gonna get ya in the honey-nut feelios, the Fridge Horror that comes with being immortal

Summary: Murder (noun): 1) the unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another 2) an unpleasant experience or punishment 3) a group of crows

Icarus and Atara-7 never had a full fireteam. No one really wants to work with a trigger-happy pyromaniac whose answer to everything is to throw a miniature sun at it. Then there's the intimidatingly huge EXO with a creepy Ghost. And the one Hunter who did have the guts to join their fireteam... he got kinda murdered by an insane Awoken Prince. That's just bad luck right there. Like broken mirrors and the number 13. But thanks to the Spider’s most selfless generosity, all that is about to change. What a whimsical twist of fate that his newest “assistant” happens to be an outcast, too, a newly born Lightbearer. And a Hunter! To complete the package! One could even call it “destiny”.

Nevermind that the new guy is the Crow, Uldren Sov, that aforementioned Royal Nutcase who murdered their previous Hunter. Nevermind that his new team members are the ones who killed him before his rebirth as a Guardian conveniently wiped away all his memories.

This is fine. Everything’s fine.

“Too slow!” The Spider slammed all four of his hands down upon the dead Walker head he used as his throne, and the room shook from the force of it. The two Fallen guards jumped. Crow flinched. Atara-7 and Icarus, used to dealing with Lord Saladin, didn’t move. The Spider was not nearly as scary as the stiff-assed Iron Lord.

The Spider’s gravel voice rolled like a landslide as he rasped, “How long has it been now!? Two Luna cycles!? And you’ve only succeeded in destroying two Wrathborn!?! A docked Ketch was attacked by those violent creatures a few days ago. The entire crew slaughtered! And where were the Guardians at the time, the Light-bearers chosen by the Traveler, so they say, to, hmmm I don’t know, protect the rest of us unworthy beings?”

“Baron, the Wrathborn have proven to be far more powerful than we initially anticipated,” Crow interjected, stepping forward. “If we can have just a little more time — “

“HA!” The Spider barked a laugh, then glared with all four eyes at the Crow. “And you!”

His gut wrenched. When did this suddenly become about him?

The Spider’s eyes gleamed a sneer. “Never had these old eyes of mine beheld something so pathetic. How utterly wretched you’ve become. It doesn’t surprise me that you would be incapable of making cryptolith lures which can charge reliably quickly.”

Crow had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming at the Spider that the lures were this way because he had extremely limited resources.  The Spider’s secret stores had given him the transmitter he needed to even begin this project, but there was only so much a transmitter could do if everything built around it was barely more than useless scrap metal.

The Spider turned his Eliksni sneer back to the Guardians. “And you two are no better. Where are they? Where are the mighty Guardians who tore through the Scorn Barons during your little… manhunt?”

The Baron of the Tangled Shore sat back and chuckled. That inside joke of his again. The Guardians still didn't say anything, which surprised Crow. He thought Icarus at the very least would be firing off some snarky comment by now. Given that they were Guardians, they could get away with a lot more than he ever could.

“I don’t like this, Crow,” Glint whispered, also noticing the pair’s uncharacteristic silence. Not to mention, the Spider wouldn’t stop glancing at Crow’s way with a gaze that was nothing short of predatory.

“Thankfully for the three of you, I have worked out a deal with the Vanguard that should prove beneficial for all of us,” the Spider said in a soft voice that made no one in that room want to think about what the Vanguard had to give up to get back on the Spider’s good side. There was nothing the Vanguard wouldn’t sacrifice for the “greater good”. It was their biggest praise and their biggest criticism.

[et-lesailes]

lily white in blood red // chapter three

series masterlist

pairing: curtis everett x reader

word count: 3540

chapter summary: reader experiences her first day of battle as well as a slightly intimate moment with curtis.

chapter themes: bloodshed, fighting, guns, masturbation

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy ,@songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester ,@little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @pining-and-tired @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @jbug491writinghelp, @honeyloverogers, @whores4thor, @jennmurawski13,@angrybirdcr, @mcueveryday, @scooby-doodoo, @peach-acid, @tansypoisoning, @quaideraid, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31,@melannie77, @gigistorm, @nsfwsebbie, @thisisjeany, @sadella-adams, @bookish-shristi, @avengerswon, @bangtan-serendipity, @space-helen, @strawberrylovessebby, @cptn-sgrogers, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @firstangeldragonranch, @deidrashouseofpain, @rohaintahquil, @fantua, @tragicallydawn, @iloveyoucevans, @queensevansackles, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @troublermalik, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @heyiamthatbitch, @teller258316, @lille-kattunge

notes: so sorry this took so long guys! i’ve had a little bit of a block and i’ve also been crazy busy. i hope you guys like this chapter!

You awake a couple of hours later to the sound of Edgar and Namgoong arguing, blinking sleepily as you slowly reach to rub your eyes. You see Curtis sitting a few feet away talking to Yona, clearly not interested in what Edgar and Namgoong are bickering about, but when he notices you are awake he immediately frowns in their direction. “Hey! Would you two shut up, already? Edgar, just let him focus on opening the damn gate.” He makes his way over to you, looking somewhat apologetic, his features already softening. “I’m sorry. I should have quieted them down earlier, but I guess it’s good you’re up now. Namgoong will probably manage to open the gate within the next ten minutes or so, he says this one’s a bit more tricky.” 

He can sense Edgar and Tanya staring holes into his back, and he knows why. He’s become a completely different person for you already, and while part of him wonders if he should stop acting so suspicious, why should he hold back how he feels? He can’t help but feel he’s waited his whole life for you without knowing it, and he’s not going to let his friends’ judgment change how he treats you. You’re special, and you’re his. 

“It’s alright,” you assure him softly, slowly sitting up and stretching your legs, your lips parting to let out a light yawn. He can’t help but stare at them, remembering how he had “marked” you earlier, wondering how patient he can be until your lips will consciously taste his seed rather than in your sleep. “You could have woken me up earlier, though, Curtis…”

“I wanted to let you sleep as long as possible. You’re not as… used to this as we are.” He figures this answer would at least make sense from Tanya and Edgar’s perspective, rather than making it too incredibly obvious that he’s spoiling you in every possible way he can. “Yeh, you’re a little fuckin’ princess, aren’t ya, sweet pea?” Edgar asks, though he sounds more amused than mocking-- for now, anyways. Curtis can tell he likes you enough to be somewhat playful with you in his naturally blunt fashion, but he can also tell that the young blond is wary at the same time. You blush slightly, shaking your head as you slowly stand up, wrapping Curtis’ jacket around your shoulders. “I don’t want to be, I want to help you guys.” You insist, and Curtis decides it’s time to end the conversation. “You will. Now stand back, Y/N, just in case there’s something on the other side of these gates…”

“There’s no one,” Yona confirmed, looking somewhat puzzled. “That is what I just to-”

“Are you almost done, Nam?” Curtis cut Yona off, looking to her father. The man gave a low grunt in response as he worked, and for some reason, you could interpret it as a ‘yes’. As the gates opened, you took a deep breath, ready to start your second day as a part of the revolution.

The first few carts were fine. You appeared to be going through the storage carts for the most part ever since Curtis had taken you, even a few kitchen carts where the chefs simply gave you weird looks before resuming their work. You notice that Curtis does not even stop to eat or drink any of the delicacies that are before him like the others do, yet he makes sure you are always fed any chance he gets. 

However, you know better than to expect this revolution to be easy, and sure enough, an obstacle is thrown at your team before you could even expect it.

“Stay back here!” Curtis demands gruffly as he practically pushes you back into the previous cart, and you widen your eyes as you watch him charge headfirst with the other tail section fighters, all sorts of weapons coming into play. You can barely identify who the enemy even is-- Yona has taken your arm and pulled you aside to hide behind a counter in the empty cart, both of you crouched low and breathing heavily. You almost let out a scream when you hear a gunshot, but Yona manages to cover your mouth before you can even make a sound, your body practically shaking from fear. She seems more composed than you, but you suppose she’s used to this.

You barely start to crane your neck to take a peek, but she shakes her head. “Don’t,” she whispers as she removes her hand, looking down at you. “You should not look. It will not be pretty.” You bite your lip but slowly nod, figuring she’s right. Still, your heart is pounding. You don’t even want to imagine that something could possibly happen to Curtis, or any of the others, for that matter.

The commotion goes on for at least a few more minutes, but you notice that it is gradually getting quieter-- most likely due to the fact that more bodies are dropping. Who’s winning? You can’t risk peeking in case it draws attention now that there are less people on the “field”. Who’s died? You’re not sure how you would feel if you were to lose your team leader already. However, you do not even have the time to think about it; your gaze is suddenly met with large black shoes standing before you, shoes that are far too clean and polished to be Curtis’. 

You and Yona look up to see a man in what would be a rather nice suit-- if it was not stained with blood. He is pointing his gun right at you, his face completely impassive. You are shivering now, partly because you’re rightfully terrified and partly because you cannot even fathom how… heartless this man is. What has he seen? What has he done? Not that you are dwelling on it too much, considering you might lose your life any second. For some reason, you are incapable of even making a sob. Yona is staring at the man with wide eyes, holding onto your arm tightly as if searching for one last action of comfort. 

And then in a split second, Curtis is there, grabbing the man from behind and shoving him roughly aside onto the floor. The assailant tries to aim his gun towards him, but Curtis kicks it out of his hand roughly before stepping on his hand entirely; you wince hearing the bones crunch. “Look away!” Curtis practically roars to you, and you do not even question it-- you immediately turn your head, now only able to hear the sounds of Curtis punching the man over and over and over again, the grunts of pain from the now victim becoming weaker and weaker...

He knows he could have simply just taken the gun and shot him.

It would have been more clean. More efficient. Less energy expended.

But when he saw that bastard standing in front of you, ready to kill you with no remorse whatsoever, he felt more rage than he ever had in his life. This man did not deserve a smooth death with a mere bullet. No, with every punch Curtis is throwing at him, he hopes each one hurts more than the last. Fuck this guy. 

The male’s face is practically unrecognizable at this point. It is a disgusting, gory sight. His hands are absolutely soaked in blood. And yet he keeps going-- the only reason he stops is when Edgar runs over, grabbing his arm and pulling him off. “Oy! He’s done for, Curtis, he’s feckin’ dead already! Chill out!” The boy’s strongly accented words bring him back to reality, the team leader blinking a few times before looking down at the body. Almost immediately after, he turns his head to look towards you. Thankfully, you are still looking away, though Yona is staring at him in horror. He sighs in relief. He does not want you to see these things. He does not even want you to see the mess of corpses in the next cart, but unfortunately, there is not exactly a way to dispose of them. But the battle is over now, and while there have been casualties on both sides, he still deems this as somewhat of a success.

“Namgoong,” he calls, breathing heavily. He is only now realizing how exhausted he is. “Open the gate. We’re moving forward.” He wipes his bloodied hands on his jacket, chest barely heaving underneath his thick clothes. “You. Come on.” He looks to you as he comes over, but before you can stand up, he has you scooped up into his arms. You blink in surprise, your cheeks barely turning pink. “I-I’m okay, Curtis, I can walk.” You insist, even feeling a little embarrassed upon sensing Edgar and Yona’s gazes upon you. “You will once Namgoong opens the gate and we’re in the next cart. But when we’re walking through, I need for you to close your eyes. Do you understand me?” The commanding way in which he emphasized his last sentence makes you immediately nod, biting on your lip. “Yes, Curtis. I understand.”

Edgar and Yona exchange glances, Edgar’s far more blatantly condemning. Curtis ignores this, instead silently appreciating how damn obedient you are, his mind taking him to slightly inappropriate places. 

The original plan was to keep moving, but the team comes across a sleeping cart sooner than expected. While sad, it is easier to accommodate everyone with the casualties that have happened earlier that day, and you try not to think about this too much. The others, while melancholy, do not seem too shaken up by this fact. You wonder how often they have to deal with death, how many people they’ve lost. You take a deep breath. It’s not fair.

“We’ll sleep here tonight,” Curtis decides, and there is a collective sigh of relief as everyone sinks down to sit. Thankfully, this cart is also heated, and you watch as the tail sectioners who are left begin to strip out of their heavy, dirtied jackets. You look down at your own lacy white slip, more or less completely stain-free, and you feel guilt. Why are you here? What is your purpose? You can’t help but feel self-conscious that the others must hate you. 

You’re suddenly distracted from your thoughts as you watch Curtis begin to peel out of his own heavy clothing. For some reason, it has not fully occurred to you that there is a normal body under those thick layers. It sounds ridiculous, but you cannot even imagine the man in a simple t-shirt let alone completely shirtless; and yet there he is, suddenly half naked before you. The others are looking at him too, but he ignores them. You allow your rounded eyes to flicker over his figure in curiosity. He is built-- not insanely muscular with perfect abs, but there is certainly definition in his torso and arms; you imagine that those in the tail section tend to gain muscle from the work they do. You can’t help but get a little red as your eyes drift down to his happy trail creeping up from the hem of his pants-- God, why are you curious as to what he looks like underneath them? You shake the thoughts out of your head almost immediately, suddenly feeling a bit hot.

He takes your hand, pulling you to the sleeping compartment in one of the corners of the cart. “You’re sleeping with me,” he states simply, and you blink but nod your head, actually somewhat grateful for this if anything. You are still feeling a little shaken up after today’s events.

He slides open the door of the compartment and helps you inside; you let out a slow exhale upon feeling soft mattress underneath you. He carefully gets in without saying a word to his friends, closing the door shut, the only connection left to the others being a small glass window on the door. You remembered your classmates always finding fabric or using their shirts to cover their windows when they did not want anyone looking in, and you feel a pang of sentimentality as you remember the acquaintances and even friends you had. What would they think of you now?

This feeling fades away as Curtis lays down with you in the limited space, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame. Your cheeks are more red than before, but you are not uncomfortable-- if anything, this feels good. You haven’t experienced much physical contact in your life. Sure, your mother gave you love and affection as a child, but when it came to touch between you and a member of the opposite sex? You could remember kissing a boy back in elementary school, but that was about it. You were not like your friends who explored their sexualities and snuck away to their sleeping compartments or even the shower carts with their male friends. You had just… never been interested.

And now, for some reason, everything has changed as you feel the heat on your cheeks as you consciously feel how close Curtis’ hands are to your butt, your head close to his bare chest. “What are you thinking about?” his deep voice suddenly breaks the silence, and you blush more. Does he somehow know what is running through your mind? You consider brushing the question off, perhaps answering with a lame “nothing” or making up something about simply feeling tired, but quite honestly, you’re not. No, you’re wide awake now, and you have an entire list of questions in your mind now that you’re finally alone with this man.

“What was life like on Earth?” you suddenly end up blurting out, tilting your head up to look at him with curious eyes. He blinks, adjusting his own positioning so that he can look down at you more properly. He is silent for a few moments, almost searching your facial features in a way as though wondering if he should answer or not, if it is worth it. He finally sighs softly, moving one hand up to run his fingers through your hair. You shiver. It feels good. 

“I don’t remember it.” He says, and you find yourself barely frowning. You’re not sure how you know, but he’s lying. “Yes you do,” you insist, surprising even yourself let alone him. This is the first time you’ve “talked back” to him, and you have to admit you’re suddenly feeling nervous. You’re about to apologize but he slowly chuckles, the deep rumble husky and musical at the same time. “You’re right, kitten. I do.” He murmurs, and you widen your eyes slightly upon the sudden pet name. Where did that come from? And why do you like it so much? “Earth was… vast. Bigger than anyone on this train can ever know, no matter how many places they traveled to.” You think of the stories your mom told you, but you’re now more interested in his. “What was your life like?” you question, and he barely furrows his eyebrows. “Normal.” He answers somewhat shortly, though he does not seem irritated or dismissive. It seems as though he has not talked about this subject in a long, long time. “It was normal. I had a mom. A dad. A sister. They’re dead now.” You wince slightly at the sudden unfortunate ending, but he does not seem affected in the least. You suppose it’s been years since they passed.

“What did you do for fun?”

“Played ball. Sports like baseball, football. Rode bikes with my friends. Went to school. Had some family vacations.” He looks down at you suddenly, barely raising an eyebrow. “Dated girls.” You don’t know why, but you’re blushing again. God, what was wrong with you? And why do you want to know more? “Did you… ever have a serious girlfriend? Someone you loved?” you ask slowly, hoping it’s not a touchy subject or too invasive of a question. He still seems unfazed, shaking his head. “No. Nothing serious. I was still pretty young when I boarded the train. Barely twenty, or early twenties, I don’t know. It’s all a blur now.” You’re about to ask another question but he suddenly gives your hips a light squeeze. “And how about you?” he asks, deciding it’s his turn to do the questioning. “You’re a train baby. Like Edgar. What have you been up to all this time?” He leans down, murmuring in a playfully mocking tone, “Any serious boyfriends?” You blink but slowly giggle, then realize it’s the first time you have in a while. His expression changes for a split second, suddenly becoming more serious, a look in his eyes you cannot decipher. His grip on you tightens and he pulls you closer, but in the blink of an eye, he is back to his regular countenance, though even just barely smiling. 

“No. I… I’ve never even kissed anyone, really.” You admit, teeth pulling at your lower lip somewhat in embarrassment. “I mean, I did when I was like, eight. But, you know, it wasn’t… real.” He blinks as he listens to you, and again, you can’t read what’s going on in his mind. Does he think you’re a child? Weird? Inexperienced? Is he judging you? “I’m surprised to hear that,” he says, and now you’re blinking. “I would have thought every damn front and middle sectioner there is would be lining up for you.” You blush deeper and he suddenly leans closer, his lips inches away from yours. “Can I kiss you?” You widen your eyes, your heart pounding. You’re not sure if you’re more nervous of the actual kiss itself, or of the fact that no part of you wants to tell him no.

“O-okay.” You manage to stutter, then silently curse yourself for sounding so lame. He does not seem to care, however, as his lips are suddenly pressed upon yours, his facial hair tickling the area around your mouth. You move your own somewhat slowly and hesitantly at first, not fully understanding how the hell to do this-- but he practically guides you. He kisses you with passion and intensity, and while you are overwhelmed at first, you are soon realizing that you love every second. You feel his tongue make its way into your mouth, pushing open your lips without waiting for permission, but you are more than happy to let him in. His tongue wraps around yours and you hear a low growl emitted from his lips, his body suddenly rolling on top of yours, one hand on the bed to support himself. 

He knows he’s getting carried away. He knew there was a possibility of that from the moment he asked if he could kiss you. But he can’t help it. Your taste, fuck, it’s already so addicting. His tongue is practically down your throat at this point, all blood rushing down south to his lower region-- when you move your hands to hold the side of his face, for some reason, he feels practically feral. This combination of lusty actions and sweet, innocent touches is too much for him. Even hearing you giggle moments ago had done something to him, had made him feel things he had not felt in a long, long time. 

But he knows he needs to control himself. Yes, he can be the one to guide you on this journey, but he has to take it slow. He needs to earn your trust. He needs you to want him, to crave him. Besides, he’s not so sure if he wants to take all of your innocence just yet. The fact that you are untouched and only for him to touch-- he wants to savor this for a bit longer. He finally pulls back, panting. You are staring up at him just as breathless, your wide eyes locked onto his piercing blue ones, and he almost groans at the mere sight in itself. He leans down and buries his head in your neck, covering it with frustrated kisses before forcing himself to pull back once again.

He returns to lying by your side, wrapping his arms around you. You aren’t sure if you’re disappointed or relieved. You certainly liked what just happened, but you also have no idea what you’re doing. Maybe it’s for the best that he’s stopped, but you have to wonder why he did-- did you do something wrong? However, he seems to sense your confusion. “It’s been a long day, Y/N. It’s best if you get some sleep.” His voice is even huskier than before, almost as if he’s straining himself, forcing himself to behave. “I hope that was a good first kiss, though…”

“It was,” you reply, suddenly cuddling closer to him, feeling a bit more secure and confident. “Thank you.” He blinks, almost amused by your manners, but more so… aroused.

Once he’s certain you’re sleeping, he pushes a sweaty hand into his pants. Just like the previous night, he lets himself come, chest heaving as he tries to keep his heavy breaths silent. He paints your lips lightly and delicately just as before, watching as you subconsciously lap at the saltiness with your tongue. “Good girl,” he mutters lowly, barely smirking, even chuckling slightly upon the way you barely smack your lips in your sleep from the unfamiliar taste. “I’ll teach you more tomorrow…”

[transeuntlight-blog]

Ulrek: Risen [1]

As long as breath comes from my mouth

I may yet stand the slightest chance.

A shaft of light is all I need

To cease the darkness killing me.

There had only been black. Infinite and absolute in authority.

Then a thin needle of light pierced the absolutely, ended the infinite.

The blue sky came like a crashing wave upon dead eyes. Rays of sun warmed flesh it had no business warming and the breeze cooled a body that should have long since been cold.

Ulrek gasped his first breath and sat up. He expected pain, some reptilian part of his brain almost demanded pain. A toll for this reclaimed freedom from that impenetrable veil. Before him sat a machine, smaller than his palm clade in armor of white. A blue insignia made its pupil and Ulrek knew the things was responsible.

“You’re awake!” [Voice claim for Ghost]

The surprise in its voice caused Ulrek to raise his brow, “You seem surprised?”

The machine spun its forward spiky protrusions and began to move, as if it were talking the idea of talking with its hands and modifying it to fit its handless form. “Not surprised, excited!” The machine replied, the way its eye-light dimmed and reignited implied honesty.

Slowly Ulrek got to his knees and, with the assistance of a waist-high island, he got to his feet. He stood within an enormous courtyard of a building that was tens of stories tall but was now reduced to no more than five, the remains of the building lay about his own burial site, for a moment he thought it a fitting monument. That thought was quickly erased and replaced by a panic. He tried to recall the purpose of the building, its relation to himself, any purpose such a building could possibly hold. No information returned the inquiry. Finally, his black orbs fell on the floating machine as a blue light flooded from its eye and fell onto him “Where am I? What are you?”

The machine scoffed “I am a Ghost, I am your Ghost, actually. As for where we are – “

“My Ghost? Am I dead?”

“You were,” it began, “But I brought you back. The Traveler requires your aid.” The Ghost spun its fore-segments again as it began constructing a suit of very basic armor. “Interesting…”

“What?” low-grade armor encases him.

His Ghost hums a tune as it lifts itself up and rotates, searching. Finally; “We have a long way to go, care to name yourself?”

“Ulrek,” he finally mutters as he takes his first steps into a collapsed world, “Ulrek Marcillino.”

The construct turned, as if to appraise the newly minted Risen, “Ulrek? Sounds… old.”

The township of Goldsmine was founded only years after the collapse. Nearly five hundred residents called Goldsmine their home, many lived in huts no larger than a few rooms. Goldsmine was bisected by a road that had, miraculously, come to be a sort of trading route between other townships. A Risen, known to the local populous as Jaden, had claimed the township as his own and, with the muscle provided by a small band of like-minded Risen, had come to rule the small township almost since its inception. He was a kind ruler, the humans who lived under him found protection and aid.

An alarm rang out over the township of Goldsmine, as the sun began to poke its head over the horizon. Jaden had, in his employ, a Risen who claimed to be capable of reading the, for lack of a better word, light of a person’s aura. Called it a sixth sense and had never been wrong. On this fateful morning that Risen burst into Jaden’s office, perspiration flooding his face and dampening the fabric about his collar. “Jaden! Some… thing approaches!” His voice is hoarse, his hands shaking as he slams them against Jaden’s desk, “It feels like… like the entire universe is moving towards us!”

Jaden stands, he isn’t one to take chances. “Get the other Risen ‘rounded up and situate them near the entrance – “

“No! We must run!” Jaden recognizes that its not sweat pouring down his employee’s cheeks but tears. He can feel, now, static in the air. The Warlock speaks again. “You can feel it can’t you!”

“You’re hysterical. Hide then, fool!” And he does.

The Warlock would return, long after the coming storm has passed, and he would be alone.

Jaden steps into the soft light of morning. No animal calls fill the air, only the blaring of the siren. Two of his men rush up towards him, weapons loaded but aimed harmlessly skyward. “Wait here,” Jaden’s Ghost highlights the areas, “Take a few more guys with ya’. Keep a low profile for now.”

The air feels heavy. An ocean is forcing its way upon them, the Risen can feel its pressure. Movement becomes strenuous.

“Oh, it appears a party has come to greet us.” Ghost muses as it falls back behind him. Ulrek can feel it, tiny pulses of energy. Each is a star and each pulse with fear. It’s an ugly, dark vibration that permeates the air and sickens the newly Risen. “Play nice.” His Ghost chides as it vanishes in a wink of blue light, yet remains on vigil, he can even feel it like a distant star, watching.

Jaden stands at the center of the welcoming road. A weapon slung within his hands. Does he think Ulrek is incapable of sensing the other six that hide on either side of the road? The Titan stops and tilts his head “Can I help you?”

The Exo whirs, Ulrek can only guess annoyance. “Who are you? What business have you in Goldsmine?”

“I am Ulrek. Is this Goldsmine?” He half turned and cast an eye at the shacks. The stars wobble, stumble, one drops a weapon and another whimpers. “I am only passing through. I have business beyond this town.”

“Hard luck, fella,” the machine says as it levels its rifle, “I don’t much care for you.” Jaden can feel it. A pressure. Like the ocean is weighing against him. He’s almost surprised his chassis isn’t groaning in response.

Ulrek lifts a finger to retort. Suddenly a rocket flares to life. With no more thought than one would put into leaping back, Ulrek wills a wall of purple energy to form. The wall of dense energy domes away from the Titan, the rocket explodes against the impenetrable barrier and consumes the Exo before him. More scream. Many more scream curses. Ulrek can only take a step back before weapon fire begins to collide against the purple barrier.

“Impressive,” His Ghost whispers from within his head, “There are many who need to meet you.”

“And Goldsmine?” Ulrek asked, momentarily unafraid of the guns emptying into his Ward.

“You’re not nearly as emotional as I thought you’d be.”

“I don’t scare easy, Ghost.”

It hummed “I can see that.” After a half-second, “You created that Void barrier, Ulrek, shape it.”

The Void barrier wavered as Ulrek placed a hand upon it, the weapons fire stopped. He caught sight of them beyond his barrier. Scared. Many crying. The purple wall collapsed and encased him in blue, ionic flame and, in a wink, his opposition is reduced to ash. Now the civilians cry out, begging for mercy. “I only wish to pass through.”

“They’ll awaken shortly.” Ghost whispered in his head while cataloging exactly what it had just witnessed. He repeated it. The crowed shuffled into huts.

“If you’d like,” he repeated as his Ghost talked, “I will guide you to safety. An outpost. A… A City.”

Jaden sat next to the Titan, nearly a month after they had found their way to the Traveler’s shadow. “Ulrek, I…“ Speech was difficult, Jaden often felt he would be torn asunder beneath Ulrek’s hard gaze, “I swear to follow you,” the two horns of blue Light which constantly flowed from Ulrek’s brow didn’t ease Jaden’s nerves.

Ulrek took his companion’s hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze, then stood. “I am needed elsewhere, Jaden. Aid the City, follow the Traveler.”

A salute “Yes sir!” Came his eager reply before Jaden leapt to action.

“Are you sure about this?” His Ghost questioned, as if Ulrek had ever lead them astray.

“Ghost, I died and was risen again only to fight in a war. Its clear conflict is eternal. Here,” he motioned towards the humble beginnings of the Last City, “We want to make something good and the only way to make something good is to make it unbreakable and the only way to make something unbreakable is to try and break everything.”

His Ghost considered this as they walked further from the City, “Even the Iron Lords?”

“The Warlords wanted to make something good,” Ulrek countered, “And the Iron Lords broke them. This is the nature of the universe.”

“I never thought you’d be so fatalistic.”

Ulrek smiled, his horns burned the air and his Light cast an unbelievable pressure, “It is better to know.”