8th of July, 2026 - Sean Williams
LOW ROAR
Sion slowly opened his eyes.
Rainclouds hung over the Winding Cove in a grey haze - mist beading on the scope of his sniper rifle, softening the silhouettes of the Red Legion patrol moving through the valley below.
"Four Legionaries, two Phalanx, one Centurion playing tour guide," Atlas said, hovering at Sion's shoulder, shell folded tight against the drizzle. "You have a clean line on the Centurion."
"I know." Sion didn't move. "I'm savoring it."
"You're stalling."
"I'm savoring it." He exhaled, slow, and the crosshair settled on the gap beneath the Centurion's collar where the armor plating never quite closed. "Some of us like to enjoy our work, Atlas."
The shot cracked out across the valley and the Centurion dropped before the echo caught up to it. The patrol scattered for cover, shouting in barked Cabal tongue. Sion was already cycling the bolt, walking the scope toward the nearest Phalanx shield.
"Eight months," Atlas said quietly, while he waited for a lane to open. "Eight months and they're still squatting in the dead zone like there’s anything left for them."
"Give them a break, Atlas." Sion fired. The Phalanx's shield flickered and folded, and the second shot a breath later put it down for good. "They spent a lot of time redecorating the place."
Atlas didn't laugh. Atlas rarely laughed at the right places, which Sion had decided years ago was half the charm.
"I keep thinking about the cage," the Ghost said. "The field Ghaul put around the Traveler. I felt it when it closed. Like someone reached into the space between us and pinched it shut."
Sion's hands stilled on the rifle. He didn't look up from the scope.
"I remember falling from that ship," he said. "It’s funny what sticks. Not the part where I lost my Light. The part where the ground came up fast and I had time to think, ‘well, this is a stupid way to go out’."
"You weren't going to die. Not with me still-"
"I didn't know that, Atlas. Lying in a ditch in the City with nothing in my chest where the Light used to sit, I didn't know that at all." He said it lightly, but his thumb found the rifle's stock and pressed there like it was something to hold onto. "Two days is a long time to wonder if your Ghost is gone."
Atlas drifted lower, hoping his friend would take his eye from the scope for a moment. "I never left. I couldn't find you, but I never stopped looking."
"I know." Sion's voice softened briefly, before he caught himself. "You're annoyingly loyal for a flying eyeball."
"And you're annoyingly difficult to keep alive for a man who insists on lying in wet grass with a sniper rifle as a personality."
"It's not a personality, it's a lifestyle.” Another shot. A Legionary went down clutching his throat, the rest of the patrol finally finding the tree line and digging in properly, which meant Sion had maybe ninety seconds before they brought up real cover. "Besides, you found me. After everything. That's the part I think about more than the falling."
"I always will." Atlas said it plainly. “But I have to be careful.”
Sion glanced sideways at the little machine, something crossing his face before the grin slid back into place. "Careful's overrated. Ask anyone who's met me."
"Believe me. I have considered the alternative."
He lined up his next shot. The last Phalanx, shield raised, advanced in a slow mechanical lurch. That was when the ridge itself seemed to catch fire.
A comet of orange light tore down out of the haze and struck the valley floor. The shockwave rolled up the slope and rattled gravel past Sion's boots. Where the Phalanx had been standing there was only a smoking crater and a sunspot guttering golden light against the wet stone, and striding out of the blast wreckage came King. His armor was scorched, and the hammer reformed in his fist in a coil of solar fire.
He didn't so much fight the rest of the patrol as erase them. A second hammer took the last two Legionaries together, the explosion folding outward in a wave of fire that left nothing standing in the tree line at all. The valley went quiet except for the crackle of burning grass and King's low, satisfied grunt, audible even from the ridge.
Sion lowered his rifle and just watched for a moment, grinning despite himself.
"Well," he said. "Show-off."