Dust. It’s everywhere. On the ground, over the ruins, in the air. Somehow, it even manages its way into my suit every time I visit this waste of a planet. The Traveler? It’s not the huge orb protecting the last bastion of humanity. It’s the tiny grain of sand that hijacks its way to Earth via my loincloth. Sure, being a Guardian has its merits—humanity’s last hope and all—but damn if I don’t find dust in every last orifice for weeks after leaving this red rock. Venus may be boiling with sulfuric acid, but at least I don’t find any of that in my nether regions once I’m back home showering in the Tower. Lucky for me, the one place it doesn’t infiltrate is my rebreather. It may end up in places I didn’t even know existed, but at least I won’t die of asphyxiation. What will I die of? There’s a Cabal Legionnaire posted nearby that would be happy to send me to my eternal rest by way of his assault rifle. But I have other plans. The only good thing about coming home with dust in every crack is that I’ve used it to dye my Hunter’s cloak. It means I’m imperceptible from the red rust. So here I sit, shrouded in my perfect camouflage, waiting for the right moment. My rifle is steady. The highly modded Monitor S11 reveals the rhino-like Cabal through its scope. I squeeze the trigger. Crack. One more alien slumps to the ground, fulfilling his own destiny, on his way to becoming what he was born to become… Dust.