[url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/255163108/0/0]Table of Contents[/url] I’m pretty sure that bullet killed me all the way, full RTL, because I just woke up in heaven. Romy is kneeling beside me, leaning her head right over mine. Her helmet’s on but I can imagine her beautiful eyes locked with mine and her hair hanging down to frame her perfect face. This is so romantic- “You guys should kiss,” my Ghost chuckles. I frown sourly. Way to kill the romance, little buddy. Thankfully I’m the only one who hears his dumb voice in my head, thanks to a private comm channel. I have some choice words for him, but I keep my mouth shut for Romy’s sake. “Hey!” Romy says, snapping her armored fingers in my face, “You alive in there?” I nod, not wanting to get up, “Yup, yeah, I’m good.” She smiles -I can tell by the way her head tilts- and starts to stand, “Then eyes up, hot stuff.” My face burns red. If we weren’t in the middle of a death match, this would be so romantic- On cue, the jerk that shot me materializes mid-Blink above our heads. He lands with a showy flourish of his Warlock robes, spinning to level his submachine-gun on us. Romy lobs a grenade at him and dives away from me, rolling to her feet with rifle in hand. Our opponent evades the grenade and jumps, Blinking again to get away and sending out a defensive spray of bullets. “Watch my six,” Romy orders, leaping after the Warlock. She’s so hot when she goes into Crucible-commando mode. I hop to my feet and take a step after her, then stop. Gears start grinding in my head. Our opponents are Isabelle and a Warlock. Isabelle the Huntress. And a Warlock. In Crimson Doubles. Call me paranoid, but as a Hunter who’s committed the taboo of dating a Warlock, I know there’s only one thing this could mean. Isabelle is way too serious about the Crucible to go into a match with randoms on her team, and no self-respecting Hunter would be caught dead in Doubles with a Warlock unless… Connecting the dots, everyone? For the Titans, I know you hate math, but stop chewing on your markers for a second and focus: Huntress + Warlock + Doubles = [i]DATE[/i] Get it? THEY’VE GOT THE HOTS FOR EACH OTHER. As if on cue, I get tackled from behind right as the realization hits me. I swear, everything has the perfect worst timing today. Luckily I’m wearing my helmet or my face would have had a very intimate meeting with the ground. I manage to roll over and lash out at my assailant. It’s Isabelle, of course. She swats aside my fist and gives me a good lick to the head. My helmet is really doing its job today. “Chill! Chill!” Isabelle shouts, “Stop! Chill, dude!” Finally she manages to grab my flailing arms and pin them to the ground, “Janko! I just wanna talk, you dummy!” My blood freezes in my veins. That was the lamest insult I’ve ever heard, but she recognizes me. This is bad, very bad. If she tells anyone I was in Crimson Doubles with a Warlock I’ll be screwed. I’m so distressed I stop fighting back. We’re both still for a moment and I process the situation. Isabelle is on top of me, holding me down with her face uncomfortably close to mine. This would be a very horrible position to be found in by our dates. “Where’s your Warlock girlfriend?” Isabelle hisses. My skin crawls with dread. She figured me out. “Where’s yours?” I counter. We stare at each other in silence for a moment. “Your boyfriend, I mean,” I clarify hastily. Don’t want to let her think I’m calling her boyfriend a girl. Very valuable life lesson: don’t piss off a girl if she’s in a position to kill you, especially if she already has a habit of murdering you. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” Isabelle whispers. I know she’s talking about having Warlock dates. She glances both ways as if anyone could be listening. Shaxx probably is, but I think he gets that this is a personal situation. [i]Oh Traveler, Shaxx is watching! This is so embarrassing.[/i] “I won’t, either,” I reply carefully. “Good?” She asks, as if to make sure we’re both on the same page. “Good.” “Good,” she echoes. I hadn’t even noticed her removing her hand from my wrist, but I feel the bullet and hear the bang in the next instant. I recoil, convulsing in agony. Isabelle holds her hand cannon up to my head. “I should’ve seen that coming,” I grunt through clenched teeth. “Thank you,” Isabelle replies, then pulls the trigger. I die, my last thought that her reply didn’t even make sense. I wish I’d still been alive to see her facepalm.