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They sit, waiting, watching—the sniper cradled lovingly in their arms is a gift from an old, dead friend, taken by the Fallen and the sniper finds it fitting that it should take part in their duty. There’s two of them, the sniper and their spotter—a wiry EXO in more ways than one by the name of Jacobs-10—and they watch, ever vigilant, the far-off enclave for the moment of their lives. They are told it is a solemn duty, one meant as a precaution rather than insurance, but they do not see it that way; their trigger fingers are too itchy for it. It is this itch that gets them.
They are sitting there, taking in the windspeed and glancing down the sights when the sound of rubble under clawed feet crunches from behind their blind. A head, a Fallen head, comes into view and the sniper’s instinct is faster than the fire in their veins as they call a gun of sun and flame into their palm. Six shots, right through the same spot between the four glowing eyes, the smell of sizzling and disintegrating flesh hitting the duo before anything even registers.
“What the hell!” Their spotter cries, “was that a-“ The sniper clenches their jaw “Fuckin Fallen, bet they’ll say it was tryin to bring us tea or some shit, not bloody likely.” However, before they could even radio in this declaration of war, a light practically explodes in front of them, swirling and forming, mixing with the ether in the air into something flesh and bone. A crisp, tenor voice sparks to life while the two do nothing but stare, disbelieving.
“How DARE you! How DARE you! You should be ashamed of yourselves, the both of you, shooting first and not bothering to ask questions like some common thug!”
The ghost looks almost completely alien, its shell covered in sloping, intricate metalwork almost like a Fallen had dressed it, then painted it like a punk-inspired street artist from the Golden Age. Its eye practically seethed at them, glowing almost iridescently azure,
“I bet you don’t even belong up here, found some way to get rid of the rightful guards then set up here to start killing innocent parents and children because someone long dead killed someone else long dead. The nerve!”
The first thing out of either two Guardians was the spotter's horse, disbelieving “What the fuck?!”