I struggled to pull myself up from the ground. I glance upward for a moment, throwing up my hand to block the sun. Around 50 feet. That was how far I had tumbled down the sand dune. One little slip of the foot sent me over the edge. I had been too tired to even care as I fell down. The heat is unbearable. Had I known the desert would be this bad, I might have prepared more. Then again, I hadn’t expected for my pike to break down 20 clicks into the trip. I remember glancing to my six, double taking, and seeing a particle beam spread from the bottom of an uncloaking fallen cruiser, only giving me long enough to dive off of my pike watch my team burn alive. We were supposed to be the elites. We were the Vanguard, the Vanguard never dies. They just keep fighting. I guess I had never realized the lie that that statement was until my team died. As I regained my orientation at the bottom of the dune, I felt a throbbing coming from my abdomen. A shard of metal is sticking out of my side. It must have impaled me as I rolled down. [i]Wait. Metal in the middle of the desert?[/i] Hopeful, I scale the next dune. The words [b]ATLANTIS STATION[/b] read across a tunnel entrance. I had arrived. The mission was a full assault on the Fallen camp stationed within the old subway. As I make my way into the square, I see a group of fallen camping out. A slight grin crosses my face. I silently slip onto the 3rd floor of a building and set up my rifle. Peering into my scope as I lie down, I slide my finger onto the trigger. [b] CRACK [/b]