Some fight for themselves, hoping to live for another day. Some fight for the ones they love, hoping that if they die they'll make the world a safer place for the people they love. Others still fight for vengeance. Wanting to see the light leave their enemy's eyes, to see them bleed. Me? None of those. I have no instinct of self preservation. You should see some of my older cloaks. I have no loved ones. The few I've gotten close to have been long dead, and I don't need that pain again. I can't fight for vengeance, because I understand war. Two sides set against each other. Nameless nothings shooting at nameless nothings. So what do I fight for? Those that can't fight for themselves. I don't like pain; giving, taking, or just seeing it. I'm all too familiar with it, and nobody else needs to suffer through something like that. If I do need to fight, I go into a trance like state. I don't have guns, I have instruments of death. Each bullet might as well be inscribed with a name. A don't have grenades. I have blasts of devastation for what can not do with more traditional weapons. I do not have a knife. I have an extension of my arm, sharpened to a fine edge, ready to cut down all who defy me. One day I find myself patroling the jungles of Venus, trying to find spirit bloom for the tower botanist. Then I hear it. "Help! Someone, please help!" "There goes my afternoon", I think to myself. I hop on my sparrow and speed off in the direction of the cry. I come up to two novice guardians, one male one female. They are pinned down by dozens of fallen. The female has a dreg coming around the stone she's using as cover, but she's ready. One quick stab to the throat and if crumples silently to the ground. The male doesn't have the same luck. Four vandals armed with swords and camouflage rush him. He shotguns three down and goes to kill the fourth but the shotgun clicks empty. Even from my distance I heard him swear. The vandal pushes one sword through his abdomen, holding him up off the ground like a shishkabob. He looks to his left and calls out," I love you Julie." Then the wire rifle shoots square between his eyes. The titan collapses to the ground, dead. The hunter drops her pistol and screams a cry of anguish. She's more than a little pissed. She pulls out her knife again, only this time it's crackling with arc energy. Normally it takes some event for a guardian to get the ability to channel pure light. I guess the death of your lover qualifies. She's suddenly not there. I look over to the fallen and see them dropping dead with knife wounds or dissipating in the air. I finally get to her, bit there wasn't much I could do. One captain try to run, but I pulled out my rifle and put an end to that. She collapsed, likely exhausted. I survey the scene. They did pretty damn well for two freshly reborns. Then I see it; a crackle in the air behind her. I whip out my faithful revolver and put one shot in to the bastards head. She looks at me and wordlessly nods. I walk up to her and hold out my hand to help her up. She takes it, again without saying anything. Numb to the world, I thought to myself. I remember my first loss. I considered putting my revolver to my head and being done with this nonsense. My mentor slapped it out of my hand. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened had she not done that, what difference there would be in the world. "I loved him," she said, startling me out of my thoughts." I could've saved him." "No you couldn't have. Don't beat yourself up. Plenty of people die every day. The best thing we can do is make sure it wasn't in vain." I handed her my knife."You're pretty good with a knife. You'll be getting more use out of this than me."That was a complete lie. I had just honed it that morning."Come on, lets get you back to the tower. I'll buy ya a round of drinks." Comment if you want me to continue!