2 of 5 High above the cold dark expanse of Old Russia, free falling a mile up, Fália was in a panic. That warlock bastard Colin had underestimated her and hadn't anticipated her to have a hand cannon strapped to the inside of her cloak, which was currently gripped incredibly tight in her hand. She'd given the crazy asshole a good blast in the side before she'd jumped ship. As she fell, thoughts raced through her head at insane speeds. She knew that there was only a very dim glimmer of hope she could possibly survive this, but she was prepared. She sighted her savior and knew it would hurt, very much so. The ground was rushing up faster, and now that she was below the lowest hanging clouds, an icy lake came into view, but it was at least a hundred yards to her right. Luckily, she remembered her jump pack. Under normal circumstances, she used it to reach vantage points while she was scouting or providing cover for her fellows, but this wasn't a normal circumstance. She pushed it to the brink and hoped for the best before she hit and everything became murky and black. The huntress awoke to great pain and a vicious and ugly sound, and she knew it could only be the voice of a Fallen. She instinctively grasped her side for her hand cannon but only found the cold metal of her leg armor. groggily, Fália's vision came to her and she found herself very suprised. Firstly, she was suprised that she was staring at the ground as she quickly realised that she was being carried. she tried to turn her head to view her carrier but that only sent a wave of pain through her body. She looked up, which was less painful and found her suspicions confirmed; it was a squad of Fallen. Damnit. They must have fished her out of the lake and taken her prisoner. Her second suprise came as she found who was being pushed and jabbed to walk faster behind her, the one and only power-crazed bastard Colin. It gave her pleasure to see that the wound from her hand cannon was deeper than she had originally thought. He raised his head, saw that she was awake, and smiled. "Hello there!" He said weakly and coughed, "You gave me quite a scratch you know, but it's nothing I can't handle." He gasped and flinched as the fallen behind him elbowed him hard on the head and pointed to his rifle to indicate to Colin to shut up or he would do it for him. He gave her one last glance and lowered his head again. They walked on for a few more miles and made camp under a starless night. The Captain, a large and especially ugly Fallen, personally tied them up in the center of the camp and managed to spit a few bogies at his two prisoners. A couple hours later, the two guardians had had their wounds tended to, only for the purpose of them having their health so their didn't keel over before torture and interrogation could be performed. They rested long enough to be able to form a plan. "There's no way that I'll team up with you, you prick." Fália was somewhat hesitant. "You know you'll never survive the torture," the warlock tried to persuade her, "and you'll never get out of here without my help." She knew he was right and had no choice but to comply. They formed their plan and waited for morning. At sunrise, they enacted their strategy. At gunpoint, Fália and Colin were slowly untied by two Dregs that grumbled under their breaths as they worked. The instant they were both untied, Colin took action. He stood up and cracked his neck, then he did something the Fallen didn't expect. Moving quickly, Colin thrust himself at the Vandal holding the gun and knocked him to the ground. Before the other Fallen could react, they all had either been blasted to bits or stabbed in the back by Fália, who had grabbed a shock dagger from one of the fallen Fallen. At the back of the camp, the Fallen Captain had been violently awoken by the shaking of an explosion. He ran out of his tent to find his men being slaughtered by the prisoners. This simply would not do. He activated his radio and issued a command to the rest of his squad that had found something special earlier that night. Fália and Colin sprinted away from the camp as fast as they could when they heard it. "Damnit!" Colin yelled as he ran from the bulletstorm flowing from his ship, "I forgot! They found me unconscious in it! I had just enough time to land before I blacked out!" "You deserve it bastard!" "Oh will you just shut up!" He stopped running and turned around. "What the hell are you doing?!" "Ending this shit!" He widened his footing and took a deep breath. A dark aura surrounded him as he focused his powers. Colin suddenly thrust his hands out above him and a black energy shot out from them, hitting the ship. The sound stopped all the Fallen following on foot. The screech of metal or metal and the booms of the explosions inside the cargo ship crippled the hyper sensitive ears of the alien creatures. The pair of escapees ran on, unfazed by it. They made it into the night. Fália's G.P.S. led them to the city wall, where they took shelter in the maintenance hatchways. The next day came and Fália knew she had been betrayed again. She woke up only to find that Colin was gone and that her arm was shackled to a pipe. She would have screamed curses at the world if not for an alien growl she heard disturbingly close. In a panic, she looked around to find something to defend herself with. Stopping, she noticed a note scrawled on a degrading newspaper. Simply, it read "Survival of the fittest, Fália-love Colin."