His death was an accident. As the hunter's hands became limp, Sasha's rifle slipped from her grasp and sank into the shifting sands of the martian landscape. She stumbled in retreat from his body, collapsing onto the sea of red grains as the Cabal descended upon her. The days that followed overflowed with taunts and abuse by the Cabal. They relished in the capture of a guardian, making no attempt to suppress their glee. Dawn after dawn they would rise to scream and roar at the face of their enemy before untying the rope that held Sasha hostage, and parading her around the carcass of the once glorious city now buried in the dunes. At dusk, as the sun gave its last rays of warmth to the sand, they returned her to the rusty lamp post where she was to be fettered for the Cabals' entertainment. A pet for them to play with. High above the sand swept city streets the ogres had hung Mickey's body, tied to the beams of two adjacent high rises. His shadow cast over Sasha, enveloping her in darkness. Even in the shade one could distinguish the effects of her internment. The color of her armor had been slowly chipped away by sand in the hot breeze. Her red, burnt, skin tissue peeled from the rest of her hide, layer after layer. Hair once deep red had bleached to a fiery orange. And marks of torture bruised her face, placed upon her with excruciating force by the behemoths who captured her. Consumed by visions of her brother shuddering from the impact of the bullet in his throat, the huntress had taken her humiliation in silence, echoes of the moment reverberating in her mind throughout her captivity. The Cabal had left her armor on, a second torture as the sun rose and baked her within the metal. No more. Days of torment had broken her of her guilt and sorrow. Leisurely her hand drifted to her elbow and quietly unbuckled the straps that held the armor to her forearm, revealing the burnt, blistered, skin underneath. Gathered at the center of their camp the group of Cabal didn't notice Sasha's actions. With ease the knife that had been hidden, attached to the underside of her gear, severed the rope that bound her and she disappeared into the shadows. Conversing in an alien tongue the monstrous soldiers sat in a wide circle around a fire. Surprised when, gracefully, a blade soared out of the dark and into the throat of the Cabal leader, like an arrow from above, bloodying the sand. The remaining Cabal, confused and unorganized without a leader, futilely searched for the apparition that haunted them. And as the yellow of the sun no longer shone between the buildings, Phobos and Deimos stared at each other from alternate horizons. Their combined light glowed upon the city's outer structures, but it could not permeate the maze of metal corpses towering towards the stars. Inside the ruined metropolis the giants lumbered in every direction. Grains of red sand crunching beneath metallic boots cut at the silence with each step. Shining it's light down the barrel of its gun the Cabal meandered farther from the light of the fire. Separated from its comrades the lone soldier shuddered in the dark night. Casting a fleeting glance at the dead commanding officer, it did not look long enough to see the empty slit where the dagger had been. A gust of wind stirred the sand from the street, forcing grains into the Cabals oxygen intake. Distracted, the Cabal didn't feel the extra weight scaling up its legs and back. Like the embers of their campfire, one by one the lives of the Cabal were extinguished. Their dying screams screeching through the cold desert expanse, warnings to any within earshot.