#◢ Objective: Shoot a hole into the surface of Mars | Crack ◤

[rlpandtear]

[maykrisms]

I love how easy it is to throw Variyel into situations. He might talk in a very serious tone, but he's also such a canonical enabler and has an edge of a silly spirit that he's become my go-to crack muse.

We're talking about the guy that added "Objective: Shoot a hole into Mars" not a second after Samuel went "You can't just shoot a hole into the surface of Mars." He understands the Slayer's level of crazy far beyond anyone else.

He's a friendly little guy but also keeps encouraging people to be destructive little shits.

[tally-kiza]

Horrortale and Horrorfell Headcanons

After making some Horrorswap and Horrorswapfell headcanons, I decided to try my hand at Horrorfell and Horrortale hc’s!

(this is slightly edited and revised as of 02/07/2020 so if things seem different than before, thats why)

Horrorfell Papyrus (Voss)

- Years of struggling to survive have tempered his ego and grandiose. He doesn't have the energy to loudly trumpet his own greatness anymore.

- Fights with unruly Snowdin-folk have left his teeth oddly-spaced, cracked and crooked, and a collage of small cracks along his bones and skull.

- After Undyne became queen and began her tyranny, she and Pap got into a terrible fight, which lead to Sans's cracked skull and the loss of Papyrus’s hand. The loss made surviving that much harder, but makeshift prosthetics certainly helped.

- Still the responsible one. (When they’re Underground) he cooks food for himself, Sans, and Snowdin. Sets up very gorey and deadly traps to capture humans. Motivates Sans enough to keep him from dusting. Reports to Undyne daily. Keeps her wrath out of Snowdin.

- Once, when he caught a particularly fierce monster trying to steal food, he attempted to dust them, but the monster fought back and punched a section of Pap’s jaw. Those bones, being too weak from malnutrition, shattered, leaving only half his jaw, only one cheekbone, and vision in only one of his eyes. Talking was very painful for him afterwards, and even when he does get a prosthetic jaw, he never says much, and rarely if ever yells.

- The injury caused blindness in one of his eyes. He was already partially-blind in the other eye from a scar, and with this new jaw injury, it left his vision so poor that he’s legally blind.

- Generally very serious. Resting face is just (눈_눈). After all he's been through, not much can faze him. Rarely ever smiles or laughs, and is easily irritated. He may not be able to yell anymore to express that irritation, but boy does he have a glare that could turn you to stone.

- On the surface, he's still the one taking care of him and his brother. 

- Gets his teeth fixed with braces on the surface--even though he hates how stupid he thinks he looks for the entire 2-year process, he has to admit he’s happy that he’ll be in less pain soon.

- Is given a seeing eye and therapy dog to help him and his brother. Voss says he doesn't need one, that's he's perfectly fine, but he can't deny that it makes his life easier and a heck of a lot nicer. Paps is also pleasantly surprised when the dog comforts Sans when he dissociates, and himself when his thoughts start spiraling and the dark days catch up to him. 

- Both of them try to train it into being a guard/attack dog, but attempts have been unsuccessful (i.e. the dog is sweet as heck and doesn't have a mean bone in its body.)

- While he's not particularly fond of humans, he doesn't outright avoid them like his brother does. But he is, however, the king of passive aggression, and with his irritability, there’s no telling what untoward comments or petty revenge he may hoist upon an unsuspecting human.

- Loves filling out sudoku and crossword puzzles. They’re a nice way to unwind and stretch his brain muscles. It’s almost frightening how fast he can complete them. And he has a shockingly good track record for getting them 100% right almost every time!

- An amazing cook. Can make a gourmet meal out of food scraps. But he doesn’t enjoy it much anymore. It’s just a duty, like everything else. Before the famine, he loved cooking; it was his passion, but then it was... soured for him.

- Despises not being productive, so he works a lot, at the job that makes him happiest: a plant nursery! Weeding, watering, planting trees, etc, it all seems so very mundane but it’s just... such a nice reprieve from the stress he’s used to. He loves helping things grow and flourish instead of destroying them.

Horrorfell Sans (Rem)

- Will eat anything. A N Y T H I N G. Even if it isn't edible. He doesn't go out of his way to do it, but there were times during the famine when there wasn’t any choice.

- Basically a big ol' teddy bear. His closest friends will receive unexpected tsundere cuddles. He’s fluffy no matter how hard he denies it.

- Feels very awkward generally. He doesn't know what to do with himself on the surface. He also tends to says all the wrong things at all the wrong times. Also occassionally blunt and straightforward. Almost rudely so. Doesn’t care much about people’s feelings, he just wants them to know the facts.

- Doesn't make friends easily. Basically ignores most humans on the surface until his brother makes Sans get off his ass and be a contributing member of society. Is openly hostile to humans at first, but after a few years he relaxes around them more.

- If, by some miracle, you actually befriend him and his brother he'll defend you within an inch his life. He doesn’t take friendships and closeness lightly, and if he trusts you enough, he won’t let anything bad happen to you.

- The underground was very aggressive, and you could get attacked at any time, so napping was a no-go. On the surface, however, once he feels safe, he will nap. ALL. THE. TIME. There is no waking him before he is ready.

- He's not in the best state of mind, so he probably won't ever get a full time job, but he'll probably do odd jobs once in a while. Something easy with heavy lifting or where he can slack off.

- The hole in his head gave him memory problems worse than HT Sans's. If you tell him something, Sans could very well forget it almost 5 minutes later. Gets lost often and forgets where he is, so his brother tags around with him a lot to help keep Sans on track.

- Luckily writing things down is a pretty good solution to that, so he keeps a lot of pencils and notebooks around for when he needs to jot down notes to remember.

- Much like Red, Rem adores video games. The former prefers horror and competitive games where he can whup the asses of anyone he wants, whereas the latter likes more casual stress-free games like Candy Crush and Angry Birds -- Rem’s had enough stress for one lifetime, he doesn’t want any more of it. So the more casual ones are his favorites. 

- Collects objects! Mostly little knickknacks and trinkets he finds, like marbles, tickets, stamps, even slow globes! His otherwise sparse room is filled with these and he loves every one of them.

- After Undyne smashed his skull in, it took a part of his eye socket too, so he's blind in that eye now. His other eye is bright red and dilated just like HT Sans’s eye.

- Thinking is so hard sometimes... so he doesn’t talk much anymore. And he still loves puns and jokes but making them is harder these days because of his injury. The easiest ones for him are knock-knock jokes, so he has a set of bone-themed ones that he memorized a long time ago to shoot off whenever appropriate.

- Has occasional episodes where he depersonalizes and derealizes. The world around him gets fuzzy and its hard to think and react. Those moments are... distressing. Once in a while, he’ll also have black-out fits of rage, mostly triggered by the site of heavy bleeding -- but his brother can usually talk him down from those. 

- Like all the others, the famine left him really messed up. He doesn't like thinking about it, and even though he doesn’t regret doing what he had to to survive, the guilt still eats him up sometimes...

Horrortale Sans (Mars)

- Quiet and observant. When he gets to the surface, he doesn't talk much, and when he does it's usually some sassy joke or observation. Usually talks the most when his bro is around, but generally he’ll just let Pap steer the conversation instead.

- Doesn't remember much from before Frisk left. The majority of his scientific knowledge has disappeared. He knows he used to know these things, and it frustrates him endlessly that he can't understand it anymore. He tries to read scientific studies once in a while, but always ends up just throwing his phone/book across the room in frustration.

- Not very hostile towards humans, just ignores those he can. Often people stare at him and it gets... very annoying after a while. So he just ignores them and keeps doing his thing.

- Often dissociates, he spaces out and loses himself. Occasionally during these moments he’ll forget that he’s on the surface and he’s safe. So his bro made a list for him of things to remember during these, when he’s not around to comfort Mars in person. The list includes like Frisk is gone, they can’t hurt anyone; humans are good; they’re safe and well; they're not going back underground. It’s ver comforting to Sans.

- Has a weird fascination with dark jokes. They simultaneously make him uncomfortable yet he loves them. He won’t say them too often, most of the time just to unnerve someone he dislikes. (Pap groans and chastises Sans whenever he makes them, but secretly deep down, he finds them funny too.)

- On the surface, he’ll often wear a beanie or his hood to cover up the hole in his skull. Having it exposed to surface air, especially high winds, felt similar to strong winds whipping against your face, so the beanie helps with that. Eventually though, he gets a prosthetic mold that perfectly fits into the hole, so it’s all covered and he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. Mars is a lot happier with it.

- Hates sand. It’s coarse and rough and gets everywhere like his joints and head hole.

- Loves sandwiches. Passionate about them. There’s just so many possibilities to them. Makes them out of everything so that they usually end up being at least 3+ inches tall. Yet he can’t open his teeth so how can he eat them...?? Truly, it is a mystery.

- Likes listening to instrumental songs. Especially the relaxing kind. They’re such a nice reprieve from the constant, deafening silence of the Underground.

- Post-it notes are a life-saver. He has terrible memory, so he keeps a bunch of them in his hoodie and scattered all over the walls of his house so he can write down stuff before he forgets.

- Ver affection-starved. He secretly loves affection but doesn’t get it enough (from anyone other than his bro). Is surprisingly soff for cuddles and petpats. Feeling your soft touch on his bones always makes him so soft and happy.

- When Mars got to the surface, he discovered all these insanely cool weather phenomena and fell in love. They never had anything like that underground, so seeing it all for the first time, in all its chaotic, unpredictable, majestic glory left him starstruck. It’s one of the few things hes genuinely interesting in, and his face always lights up whenever he talks about the different types of tornadoes and lightning and! the aurora!! It's so awesome, he loves all of it.

- Loves watching livestreams of the sky and weather-events. Usually it’s so chill and quiet to him, even if there’s something not-so-chill-and-quiet being recorded. It’s ver relaxing to him.

- Befriending Mars is a task and a half. He assumes anyone who tries to get close to him is up to no good. But with a combination of puns, friendliness, and persistence, he will eventually trust you. Once you get past his aloof exterior, he’s a pretty nice and chill friend to have. 

- Hates to think about the famine and his time underground. Even though he’d do it all over again to save him and his brother, he’s still haunted by the memories of what he had to do. Barely ever entertains the idea about doing so on the surface.

Horrortale Papyrus (Jupiter)

- Fashion icon. Like dang, can this skellie put an outfit together. If you ever need fashion tips, always go to Paps. He’ll use the opportunity to show off his wardrobe and all his cool embroidered leather jackets and boots. He even offers to embroider your clothes too so you can look like him!

- Like canon Papyrus, Jupiter is charmingly eccentric. Not crazily so, just in that usual Papyrus way. But he’s also a lot chiller, too. The famine sapped his energy, so it got harder to proclaim his cool greatness, but he still likes thinking he can still be cool and great after all these years.

- An excellent cook. Can make a buffet out of scraps. Ever since he got out from the surface, now that he has all the ingredients he could ever want, he’s taken up cooking as a serious hobby. He’s even won multiple local cooking contests! Only ever cooks vegetarian meals, but with the power of tofu, he always makes them taste succulent and delicious.

- Baking, however, is still a bit of a challenge for him, but Pap is determined to master it just like he did cooking!

- Has a giant collection of small succulent plants in his house. They’re everywhere, on the windowsills, the bookshelves, hanging from the ceiling. He loves them and their simple beauty; seeing them throughout his home always makes him smile.

- After he arrived on the surface, he almost immediately got braces to fix his teeth. The fancy kind with colorful dots! They’re kinda painful to wear, but nonetheless he’s psyched the entire time that his teeth will be better soon.

- Gets helpful glasses on the surface. He loves them; not only do they allow him to see-- which had been progressively harder underground as he became increasingly malnourished-- but they look cool too! They even fade into being sunglasses when he goes outside, so every time the sunny rays hit his face, he becomes his Ultimate Coolness Form!

- It’s... it’s harder to believe sometimes that with everything that’s happened and with the way he looks now that he’s... cool. But! He always has Sans’s and his therapist’s encouraging words to rely on when he feels down, which is always a big help to him.

- Loves wholesome memes, and will send them to you all the time. He especially likes the drink water ones, mostly because he thinks it’s an important healthy reminder. “YOU NEED WATER, HUMAN! IF YOU DON’T DRINK WATER, YOU MIGHT TURN INTO A PRUNEY, DEHYDRATED RAISIN AND DIE! AND THAT WON’T BE A FUN SITUATION FOR ANYONE. SO PLEASE DRINK YOUR LIQUIDS!”

- His favorite activity is! Picnics!! Especially in the park and with other people! They’re so much fun, he loves nomming his delicious foodstuffs on a comfy blanket while the warm sunlight shines on his happy face. It’s extra fun when there’s clouds in the sky for him and you and anyone else to find cool shapes in!

- Still gets panic attacks from time to time, when the memories get too strong and he feels like he’s still underground, starving to death... He goes to counseling to deal with his trauma. The famine really did a number on him, and even though he puts up fronts and says he's fine, it’s hard to deal with the memories sometimes.

- Really cares for his brother and always makes an effort to be there for him. The famine, even though it led the bros to be closer than ever before from seeing each other in those desperate states, put a strain on their relationship. But on the surface, after everything’s said and done and they’re getting the help they need, it’s steadily improving.

- Jupiter is hard of hearing. He has difficulty differentiating certain words, and talks loudly to be able to hear himself better. On the surface however, he gets treatment so his hearing is far improved! Apart from getting a hearing aid, he takes up learning sign language (mostly so he can be cool in more than one language!), and likes it and talking to people with it so much that he eventually becomes a sign language interpreter! It’s a great job and he loves being able to help people this way.

[inspectorboxer]

World on Fire

by Inspector Boxer

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Alex/Maggie

Rating: T

Author’s notes: This is a prompt fill for @quinnsexriot who requested prompt #10, “Did you really think I’d just give up?” This one got a bit angsty and intense, but it’s got a happy ending. Hope you like it. :)

Thanks to @zennie-fic for the quick beta.

****

Maggie struggled toward consciousness. She was warm, unbearably so, sweat slick on her body beneath her clothes, and the world waiting for her on the other side of the darkness was deadly.

A loud groan followed by a worrisome cracking finally jarred her leaden eyelids open, and Maggie woke to a world on fire.

“Alex?” Maggie whispered, struggling to sit up. Her legs were pinned by something heavy, and panic stirred in her chest, chasing away the mental cobwebs and sharpening her senses. “Alex!” she called out with a little more volume, glancing around for her girlfriend and finding nothing but destruction and flames. She drew in a deep breath of the heated air, choking on ash and smoke. “Alex!”

The old apartment building. The alien they’d chased inside. The trap they’d walked right into. It came back to her in a sick rush when she remembered the fire, Alex pushing her out of the way to save her.

“Maggie!” Alex suddenly yelled back, somewhere close, the distress in her voice agitating Maggie further, but at least she knew the other woman was alive.  

Wooden timbers dropped from the ceiling with a boom, embers shooting skyward at the impact, and the floor vibrated ominously under her. Maggie struggled to get up again. She had to get out of there. She had to get Alex out of there.

Maggie turned to assess what was holding her down and discovered something far more concerning. A section of floor had given way behind her, opening a gaping chasm to the ground four stories below. It glowed with fire, smoking drifting toward the ceiling, looking for all the world like a pit straight to hell.

“Shit,” Maggie hissed. Where was Supergirl when you needed her?

With the world burning down around her, Maggie twisted, trying to pull her legs free. Pain exploded in her right ankle and she grimaced, clenching her teeth, but she kept fighting, desperate to get to Alex.

“Maggie!” Alex abruptly stumbled out of the destruction, her features streaked with soot and marred by scratches, and Maggie’s nearly collapsed at seeing her alive and whole.

Palms on the floor, Maggie had to shift to her elbows as the surface became too hot to touch. “I’m pinned,” she warned Alex. “Get help!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex shot back, ripping off her tactical vest and tossing it aside. Her features were drenched in sweat and she coughed as she edged closer, trying to find a way around the debris and flames to get them out.

Several floorboards splintered under Alex’s feet and fell away, forcing the agent to retreat from her chosen path. Alex swore as the holes revealed the inferno below them. She froze, the remaining wood creaking threateningly. The joists wouldn’t hold much longer.

Maggie stared at the other woman, a strange mixture of calm and grief descending upon her as she accepted her fate, watching as Alex searched frantically for a way to get to her.

There was none.

Maggie hated that she didn’t get more time. She hated that she wouldn’t live to see where this amazing thing she shared with Alex would lead them, but she was grateful she’d tasted it, that she’d known what it meant to fall in the kind of love that could have lasted a lifetime.

“Alex…” Maggie pleaded calmly, tears blurring her vision and choking the back of her throat as fire raged around them. “The floor is gonna go, babe. You need to get back.”

“Like hell,” Alex snarled.

“Think of Kara. She needs you. I need you to live, Alex. Please…”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex said again, her own features contorting in pain as their gazes met and held. “I can’t.”

“Alex…”

Ignoring her, Alex got down on her stomach and started inching closer, trying to displace her weight. Even when the floor cracked and splintered, dropping several inches, Alex never wavered, and Maggie realized whatever happened next, Alex was determined they would be in it together.

“No,” Maggie shouted. “Alex, no!”

Alex kept coming. She was too close now, her hand inches from Maggie’s own. “Damnit, Danvers! Get back!”

There was a loud boom below, and Maggie knew in her guts it was the end. She closed her eyes, unable to watch Alex die.

Fingers slippery with sweat and soot wrapped around Maggie’s wrist as something shattered below them. The floor tipped, and the heavy object pinning Maggie’s leg fell away. A moment later she followed, plunging toward the fire below.

Alex never let go.

****

The low murmur of voices slowly ebbed into Maggie’s awareness. She groaned softly. Her head throbbed and her lungs ached, but she willed her eyes open, wincing at the ceiling that came into focus. It was sad she recognized the view. She was in the medical bay at the DEO.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Maggie tried to sit up, ripping off the oxygen mask she found over her nose and mouth. “Alex?”

Someone shushed her gently, and a warm, firm hand on her shoulder urged her back onto the bed. “She’s okay.”

There was no resisting that pressure, and Maggie dropped her head back on the pillows, never happier to see the Girl of Steel at her side.

“She’s okay,” Supergirl said again with a reassuring smile. “Something tells me she’ll be even better now that you’re awake.”

Maggie squinted into the lights. “You saved us, huh?”

Supergirl hesitated before she slowly nodded, and Maggie saw a glimpse of remembered terror in her eyes. “Caught you both just in time and flew you to the DEO. You missed the ride, Detective,” she teased.

“Alex?” Maggie needed her, and she didn’t give a damn if that made her weak.

“I sent her to get cleaned up. Told her I’d watch you.” Supergirl’s blue eyes were kind and full of concern. She tipped her head slightly, listening. “Here she comes, though. I knew she’d hurry.”

“I told you to come get me,” Alex huffed, moving quickly to Maggie’s side. Her hair was still wet from the showers, and the scratches on her features were more vivid without the soot to disguise them.

The sight of her was better than a sedative for calming Maggie down, and she closed her eyes in simple relief. They weren’t done. Not yet. Hopefully not for a very long time.

“She just woke up, dummy.” Supergirl nevertheless grinned as Alex started fussing over her girlfriend, checking Maggie’s ankle, followed by her IV, and finally reaching up to run one of her hands through Maggie’s hair.

“You okay?” Alex whispered.

“Yeah,” Maggie breathed, opening her eyes again to stare at Alex for a long, charged moment. Even injured, exhausted, and worried, Alex Danvers was the most beautiful thing Maggie had ever seen. “But for the record? You’re an idiot.”

Supergirl snorted in amusement only to get a scathing glare from Alex.

“Wow. Okay,” Kara drawled. “I can see I’m no longer needed.” Supergirl smiled at them both, warmth and affection heavy in her gaze. Maggie captured Supergirl’s hand before she could turn and leave, squeezing as hard as she could.

“Thanks. For everything,” Maggie added. Supergirl glanced at Alex, her gaze softening before it returned to Maggie. “Anytime,” she murmured. “Glad you’re okay.”

Alex suddenly looked a little more contrite. “I’ll come find you later,” she promised.

Supergirl nodded and left them alone.

“She’s got damn good timing, huh?” Maggie smiled.

“You have no idea,” Alex said around a weak laugh.

Maggie leaned into Alex’s touch as the other woman cupped her cheek, savoring the familiar calluses on Alex’s palm, the living warmth of her skin. “You okay?” Alex repeated quietly.

“Am now. Although I’ve got a headache and my ankle throbs like a bitch.”

Alex smiled, but Maggie could see fear lingering in her eyes. It had been close. Too close.

Maggie tilted her head, studying her lover critically. She scooted over and patted the bed beside her. “Sit down before you fall down, hon.”

The soft term of endearment never failed to bring a smile to Alex’s lips, and this time was no exception. Gingerly, Alex sat, and Maggie wondered what kind of injuries Alex was keeping from her.

“What about you?”

Alex shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal.” She swallowed and looked down as Maggie threaded their fingers together. “This…” Alex tightened her grip. “This is all I need to feel better,” she confessed.

“You’re an idiot,” Maggie reminded her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Alex.”

“Did you really think I’d just give up?” Alex chided. “Knowing you were in there? That you could be hurt? That you could be…?” She looked away, swallowing roughly as a few agents walked past the medical bay, laughing at a private joke.

Maggie stared at Alex’s proud profile. No one had ever put themselves on the line for her like that. No one. “You were willing to fall with me,” Maggie whispered, slightly awed.

Alex’s head whipped back around at the words. She shrugged, the motion jerky. “I knew Supergirl…”

“No you didn’t,” Maggie countered, easing back against the pillows again. “I saw the look in your eyes, Alex. You made the choice…” Her voice broke.

“I couldn’t…” Alex sighed. “I didn’t want to come out of there without you,” she ground out, her voice wavering. “So yeah. I was willing to fall with you.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Considering I already fell for you once…” she added, her tone a little lighter, “the second time seemed like a piece of cake.”

Maggie rolled her eyes even though she was secretly charmed. “I love you,” she breathed, saying the words she’d been holding back for several weeks now. Alex predictably melted at the declaration, and the emotion Maggie felt for the amazing woman at her side only grew stronger and sweeter at the sight.

“Maggie…”

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready,” Maggie told her. “I just… I wanted you to know that. You deserve to know that.”

Warm lips on her own meant everything until Alex spoke. “I love you too.”

Maggie tugged on Alex’s shirt, encouraging her to curl around her on the small gurney. They snuggled together, warm, close, and alive. Despite the hell they’d just been through, they’d found a slice of heaven at the end of it.

[priestandmoriah-blog]

The Coming War I: Or Never Have I Ever

"Ok, ok, my turn," Moriah said, waving her hands about the cockpit.

Priest's arm shot out over the control panel. "Watch it," he warned. It wouldn't be the first time she nearly took the ship down.

The ship was small, meant for two people, and yet she, Priest, and Tour were crammed inside. As the lone Titan, her gear took up the most room. Priest patted her knee as if to take out the sting of his warning.

Tour leaned forward, the glow of his blue eyes lighting the dim space. Without a third chair, he sat on a crate of ammunition between Priest and Moriah's seats. He was an Exo, unlike the other two, a machine with more soul than most Guardians. While her and Priest's Awoken skin shimmered with blue secrets, Tour's was topological braids of doped metallic hydrogen-or so she'd read.

"Well, we're waiting," said Tour. He polished his hand cannon with the corner of his cloak. Ace of Spades, custom made.

Moriah cleared her throat. "Never have I ever-"

"Guardian, this is Commander Zavala-" as if they wouldn't recognize his deep voice over the comms. Priest adjusted the volume. "The Cabal base on Phobos is blasting a signal on all channels. If they're willing to break transmission silence, this could be a preclude to a full scale assault."

Priest's pale eyebrows-and the dark marks above them-shot up. It wasn't like the Cabal to send a distress signal. Moriah wasn't sure they even had a word for distress.

Priest smirked. "The Cabal know to call me for a good time." He pulled hard on the ship, and Moriah grabbed the edge of her seat to keep from tipping into the controls. He set a route for Mars and its moons.

"First," said Moriah, "the Queen goes silent and now the Cabal think they have something to say?"

"The Queen didn't just go silent," Tour said. "She's dead."

"You don't know that," Priest said over his shoulder.

"We're all dead," Moriah pointed out.

Tour nodded. "Dead doesn't mean what it used to."

Priest tilted his chin, sunlight resting on his cheekbones as they headed inwards through the system. "We've never died, not really." His words rung through the cold cockpit, their three Ghosts bobbing in agreement.

"Nope," Tour said. "I've been dead, at least a hundred times."

Moriah nodded. "A thousand times for me. Dead is dead, even if you come back. Which brings me back to... Never have I ever... died in the Vault of Glass."

Priest rolled his eyes. "You've never even been there," but he put a finger down. Tour was down to a single finger: his middle one.

They passed Mars and approached Phobos. They skimmed over its rocky, pockmarked surface.

"Aww," Priest murmured, "candlelight, just how I like it."

They passed over moon bases and mining colonies-all alight with flame and fire. A mass exodus was occurring as the Cabal fled.

"We're setting down on Phobos now," his Ghost sent through the comm.

"I'll be monitoring your feed, Ghost," Zavala said. "Good luck to you all."

Tour kissed his hand cannon. "We don't need luck."

A moment later, they dematerialized and reappeared on a cliffside outside the base.

"Never have I ever been to Phobos," Moriah said.

"None of us have," Priest added, and she frowned. She wasn't the best at this game.

Tour chuckled to himself. "Never have I ever died on Phobos."

Moriah scoffed if none of them had been to Phobos, then none of them had died either.

A gunshot rang out.

"Guardian down," said the Ghosts in chorus.

A moment later, Moriah was back. "Son of a bitch!" she rubbed the back of her helmet where the bullet had entered. Tour and Priest were nearly bent in half from laughter. "Assholes." She marched ahead. "We have work to do."

"Oh, don't be salty." Priest grabbed her shoulders and shook her before pushing ahead. His Warlock robes flapped in the wind. Dust flew on the current, acting like prisms, throwing rainbows into the air. It took a long time for Moriah to appreciate Mars, but beauty was in its small details.

A roar ahead stopped them.

"Hold!" Priest ducked behind a bolder as a Harvester ship rose just ahead. A spotlight spread across them before the ship zipped off. They looked to each other-the Cabal just ignored them? Not even a goodbye missile?

Ahead, Mars loomed over the horizon, massive and rusted red. It nearly swallowed the sky, and Moriah herself swallowed hard, her heart pounding. Carefully, they moved forward again. A Legionary crawled onto their path, half-dead and wailing a sound she'd never heard before. Priest put him down without hesitation.

"This is getting freaky," said Moriah, pulling in closer to Priest.

"Scared?" Tour teased.

"Cautious," she sniffed.

Priest raised his Hung Jury. "Cautious is a polite word for scared."

They crested the hill. Smoke rose in swirling black pillars like ether from a Dreg's neck, and a ship, shredded in half, was spread across the field. Cabal exited the base and the fireteam pressed themselves against the cliffside, jagged rocks digging through Moriah's armor.

An explosion rent the air, bisecting the base with licks of fire. The cabal were thrown forward where they did not move again.

"Bastards started without me," Priest sniffed.

"Zavala," whispered Tour's Ghost, "the Cabal are evacuating with extreme prejudice. They're getting torn up down here."

"Torn up," Moriah said, "is a polite word for getting the shit beat out of them."

"'Torn up' is two words," Tour corrected.

They edged closer. Sirens went off as Harvester shadows passed overhead, and the fireteam picked off the few Cabal left. Moriah sent her Ghost forward, and it scanned a Cabal corpse.

"What do we got?" she asked.

"Skyburners regiment. Dead, obviously. There are no other Guardians down here. I wonder what put them down?"

"Good question," said Priest grimly.

Moriah gripped her gun tighter. "Skyburners? It's not the sky that's burning, now is it?"

The entrance to the base was singed and shooting sparks. They picked their way forward.

A grim voice spoke over comms: Eris Morn. "Something has drawn us here. I can feel it," she droned.

"Guardian," said Zavala, "I have asked Eris Morn to monitor the channel."

"Why Eris?" Moriah asked.

Priest entered the base and the others followed. "Do they think this has to do with Crota?"

Tour only shrugged.

Inside, ignited gas rippled across broken beams, and tendrils of electricity dripped between exposed cables.

"I hear whispers in the dark," Eris added.

Moriah shivered. She was not a fan of Eris-no one was really-she was a reminder that there were worse things than death or even immortality. And saying weird shit like that only made her creepier.

They pushed further and further into the base. Slain Cabal littered the halls and ramps, walls were slashed and gutted, yellow warning lights flashed from the wall and ceilings. The sinking in Moriah's stomach said they were heading the wrong way.

They entered the next room. It was dark here, and the only light strobed near the next door way. If this wasn't a sign of a very, very bad idea, Moriah would eat her Titan mark.

"What's that?" Tour aimed his gun through the doorway.

"Stay here," Priest commanded. He crouched and stepped softly forward, his boots cracking broken glass, his robes whispering against the floor.

The object was a ball of light, spinning languidly on itself like a fish. It was of pure white and pure black, Light and Darkness, beautiful and mesmerizing.

Priest stepped closer, and as if frightened, the orb shot off with a screech. He flinched backwards.

"Whoa," he said.

"What the hell was that?" asked Zavala.

In answer, Eris cried out: "Fingertips, on the surface of my mind!"

"Yes... thank you for your input, Eris."

Moriah snorted as Priest and Tour walked on-and immediately stopped after rounding the next corner.

The walls and floor were covered in thick splotches of something slick and foreign. A music seemed to emanate from whatever it was, an organic chorus, like placing an ear against a shell and hearing the roar of the ocean.

"What is that?" Moriah asked. "A membrane? A goo?"

"Nothingness," said Priest in awe. It was a blackness that held the depth of eons in it; it was a hole in space-and maybe time-the edges torn and burnt with wicked white heat-filament framing the firmament. Whatever it was, it affected the gravity nearby, sending debris floating like dust motes, bending light into shadows. Moriah could feel the pull of it, and it made her break out in a cold sweat.

She sent her Ghost forward. Carefully, without getting too close, it scanned a sample that had half torn through a Cabal soldier.

"This membrane," said Ghost, "is attempting to form a bridge between dimensions, but I think it requires a living host."

"Oh, a living host," said Tour. "Just what immortal Guardians of the Traveler want to hear."

"OK, well no one touch the goo." Priest entered the next room, which wrapped around an elevator shaft. A crash of metal, and he raised his gun.

An elevator stopped at their floor. Inside a lone Legionary desperately launched to his feet.

"Should we... help him?" Moriah asked.

"We should put him down," said Tour.

Priest nodded. "Especially if that goo's looking for a host." He aimed his gun as the Legionary leapt and grasped the ceiling of the elevator. Another crash, and something-beams maybe-landed on the elevator, smashing the Cabal, forcing the elevator down, down, down the shaft. "Well, that takes care of that."

Ramps wrapped around the shaft. They took them slow and carefully. Even if they were evacuating, Cabal still posed a dangerous threat and the base was clearly unstable-add the whipped goo, and it was a sundae of what the hell.

"Radar," Tour whispered. A red line edged the display, warning of a nearby enemy.

They tiptoed forward keeping to one side of the ramp.

Ahead, more goo flashed and burned in blackness. A Centurion claws his way forward when a tendril, a tether, shot out and grabbed him. It sucked him up into nothingness.

"Well, there's its live host it needed," said Tour.

"Whispers are louder," cried Eris. "I will endure."

Moriah did not point out that Eris was safe and sound at the Tower while they crawled around this Phobos death trap.

They continued through rooms and ramps, around bodies and membranes shooting out dark, grasping feelers. They watched as another Centurion was taken before their eyes, sucked away in light and darkness.

It took everything in Moriah not to grasp Priest and Tour's arms and huddle in fear. She wondered if they-even instinctively-felt the same as they pushed in closer together.

"They speak a word, a name," Eris moaned.

The ramp ahead poured into a large, circular room. As they entered, a smoke or gas began pouring in, building and building in the center.

"He is here!" Eris cried.

The tendrils of smoke and light braided itself like shadows of veins and arteries. A figure formed-a bust-of a giant being. Its three eyes glowed in white-hot anger.

"Crota?" Moriah squeaked, but the others shook their head.

"Light!" shouted the head. "Give your will to me!"

An massive orb appeared before the giant and swelled in smoke and light before exploding. Flashes like portals ushered forth monsters, and Moriah's knees nearly gave out.

A Knight appeared first, flanked by... Psions. This wasn't right. Hive and Cabal did not fight together. And the creatures weren't right either. Like the membrane, they were made of light and darkness; they were temporal and incorporeal all at once, twitching as if tortured by incredible pain. Then again, being a paradox might do that to a creature.

The Knight stomped forward, and spread forth solar jets.

"Move!" shouted Priest. They spread out, Tour rolling away from the flames.

"Up! Up!" Moriah shouted. There was a ledge looking down into the room, accessible by ramps-or their lift abilities.

The Knight once more spread flames before shooting his void projectiles from his boomer. The fireteam huddled behind one of the narrow partitions separating the platform from the room below.

Tour glanced to the left. "The've followed." He took out a strange Psion his Ace of Spades.

As he spoke, a slug hit Moriah from the right, and she staggered. She dispatched the Psion-it was sucked away like the tethers that had taken the Centurions-and another Psion leapt onto the platform. She got a shot off on its chest when it shook violently and split into two separate Psions.

"Did you see that? What the hell is going on?"

A void projectile hit Priest, and with a shout, he died.

"Shit," said Tour as he resurrected Priest. "We need a better plan."

"We need a plan," Moriah shouted back.

Priest raised his 1000-Yard Stare. "Just keep them off my back," he said. "I got a date with Destiny."

"No, that was corny," said Moriah as Priest's first round boomed across the room and into the Knight's forehead.

"Focus," said Tour as he burst into solar light, his Golden Gun raised to the heavens before lowering a shot into a Psion. Its crack was nearly as loud as Priest's sniper.

As Tour protected their left flank, Moriah focused on the right. She rushed forward, Shoulder Charging a Psion. It was joined by three others, one of which split again. She leapt and crashed back to the ground, sending out a wave of arc damage. Their platform cleared of the mutilated Psions, she and Tour focused on the creatures below, keeping any others from reaching their perch.

"Almost there, almost there," Priest said. One more shot: "And boom goes the dynamite."

The Knight was sucked away, and he took the remaining Psions with him.

"Who was that?" Moriah asked.

"Syrok," her Ghost answered, "Word of Oryx."

"Shit," Priest spat.

"Oryx?" Tour added. "As in Crota's dad?"

"You have seen His face," said Eris. "It was His hand that transformed the Cabal."

Zavala urgently broke over the feed: "This mission is scrubbed. Guardians, get to your ship and get out of there!"

As he spoke, a door opened behind them.

The three turned slowly. A Phalanx-twisted and deformed like the Knight and Psions-raised his shield. A concussive blast threw them back into the partition just as Priest's grenade arched through the air. It attached to the Phalanx's elbow where it exploded like a sunspot. The shield teetered on its edge before disappearing.

Priest grabbed Moriah's arm and yanked her painfully to her feet. She groaned as they ran through the open door and into a long room washed in yellow warning lights. More orbs swelled and exploded into tortured creatures: Phalanxes mostly, but another Knight at the end of the room. Their bullets made a beautiful cacophony of chaos. Moriah slid past a Phalanx, turned, and shotgunned him.

For a second time, Tour used his Golden Gun, taking out the Knight and then several tortured Phalanxes and Psions attacking their own-or what was once their own-Cabal brethren. What had become of them?

"I've seen that before," Ghost said suddenly. Moriah turned, and on the floor was a golden hologram, of a long, oddly-shaped ship.

"Scan it," she commanded the Ghost, and its glittering matrix spread across the object.

"This matches an image I collected from The World's Grave," it said as Priest and Tour finished clearing the room. "A Dreadnaught. They don't exist in our system. I'll mark it for transmat to the Vanguard and hope we get a signal."

"There's more terminals over here," Priest shouted. "Get that one, Tour." He pointed to a second screen glowing at the far end of the room.

"The sent teams to investigate anomalous energy fluctuations across the base." Then softer, with reverence, Priest's Ghost added, "None of the units reported back..."

Tour's Ghost picked up where the others left off: "Cabal mining sites across Mars and Phobos have been hit. Losses to Blind Legion: thirty-five percent. Losses to Sand Eaters, fifty-eight percent; Dust Giants, thirty-nine percent. What is this?"

"The base is a loss!" Zavala shouted at them. "We have reports of these 'Taken' across the system. Go! Get out!"

They ran down a hallway, dodging membrane that distorted space and gravity, lifted debris in the air like a child's mobile. The corridors on this end of the base were dark and lit only sporadically by strobing, spitting wires.

Beyond, a doorway opened outside onto the Aerodrome. A ring of white light-a rupture in the sky-shot down a beam of energy like a sword slicing through the atmosphere. A ship-more accurately a ball of molten metal and flame-seared through the air and crashed into the base ahead. The three ran onto the walkway as more beams of light pierced the sky, the blasts knocking them into each other. Moriah's vision seemed to reverberate with the concussive blasts.

Priest's ship zoomed overhead and pivoted before landing several hundred meters away.

"Our ship's landing across the airfield!" said his Ghost. "Hurry!"

So much seemed to happen at once.

More Taken Phalanxes appeared as a beam rent the distant communications tower in two. It went up in a ball of flames, and came crashing down to Phobos.

"Forget the Taken!" Priest shouted as he leapt over the creatures. Moriah followed while Tour rolled between their feet.

The walkway ended and the only other way was down-into Cabal Legionaries fighting Taken Psions. They dropped behind them, with Moriah shotgunning one on her way, before leaving them to fight each other. The bridge was out ahead-ruined from the fireball of a ship they had witnessed crashing.

The three soared over the chasm and landed as two more Taken Phalanxes materialized. One raised his shield, shot forth a blast, and Tour flew backwards across the fissure.

"Tour!" Priest shouted as he shot forth a hand and grabbed his cloak before the Hunter went over the edge. Moriah tossed a grenade that stuck to the wall behind the Taken; its bolts of lightning wrecked them while she helped Priest pull Tour to safety.

"We're almost there," said Priest's Ghost as they passed through a building, avoiding Taken Psions when possible-punching and scorching and knifing them when necessary.

Outside once more was another bridge, this one mostly intact, but swarming with Taken Phalanxes and Psions.

"I'll distract them," said Priest. "You two get to the ship."

Before they could protest, Priest exploded in Radiance, shimmering like a phoenix and tossing grenades like they were candy. "Eat up!" he shouted.

Moriah and Tour kept to the right and used terminals and pipes as cover. They reached the other side-so close to the ship, when Tour pointed out a Taken Knight sprouting flames at Priest.

"Cute fire," Tour said. "Wanna see mine?" He lifted a rocket launcher and spit fire at the Taken Knight who dissolved into ash.

Priest caught up and the three leapt over barricades and fuel canisters, taking out the last two Taken Phalanxes who dared to stand between them and their ship.

They were warped away, suddenly mid-step, and sucked into their ship and to safety.

"Zavala," said Priest's Ghost, as they soared over the crumbling desolation of Fleetbase Korus, "We made it to our ship, and are heading home."

Moriah remove her helmet and leaned back into her seat. She was breathing hard, as was Priest. Tour's mechanics seemed to whir.

Finally, she said, "Never have I ever seen anything like that."

Priest stared at her. "You are terrible at this game."

[rlpandtear]

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