Why I like the Holiday Season 

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! – Someone I forgot their name. 

I’ve always loved the holiday season for so many reasons. 

For starters, the cold. With the cold comes my endless supply of jackets and sweaters and heavy clothing. And down goes my car windows for a drives filled with cool air. 

Next, the holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas have to be one of my favorite holidays period. The lights and trees go up, the turkey is in the oven, and everyone is around giving out presents. Being 20 years old I have been getting less presents and more money (not that I’m complaining). It was always something I looked forward to every year.

Last thing is the smell. There is something about that Christmas smell that is just divine. I still haven’t found a candle for it but I know just what it is by the smell of it.

And that’s why I love the holidays. Thanks for listening to my rambling as I wait for my next class to start. Have a good day and happy holidays. 

P.S. Still haven’t gotten to Road to Publication episode (?). I will eventually. In the meantime I’ll post another short story I wrote with a festive holiday theme. 

-Andrew 🙂


Road to Publication #3.5 Another Day…

Road to Publication #3.5 Another Day…

Another rejection…

At this point in my journey to find a literary agent, I can’t even count how many rejection letters I’ve received (not to mention the ones where if they don’t respond it’s a no). I don’t know what’s wrong. The query? The pitch? Maybe the book itself?  Every time I get a rejection, that grey cloud always comes back and turns my day gloomy and the occasional existential crisis comes.

But there was something about this particular rejection. Could it be that this one was the last letter to bring all the weight down? And whenever this happens, that creative flow that fuels my writing sessions every night goes dry and I can’t write a single thing.

I hit the wall again. And sure I’ll get out of it as I always have. But I’m being more and more cautious about who I’m sending queries to. Reason? Maybe with all the previous rejections, I’m just scared of getting another rejection.

Every time I get a wave of rejections I go back to the drawing board and rewrite some or even the entire book. It’s as polished as it can be. Every book can benefit from a revision but how many revisions will it be until the project I fell in love with isn’t what I remembered it to be?

Just a stream of conscious

If you had happened to stumble across this, I’m just trying to put my thoughts down. Sorry if you don’t know what’s going on. But if you do want to know, feel free to visit the other parts of this series where I try and get my book published.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading my self-pity existential crisis. Promise in the next entry I’ll explain what my book is. But until then, have a good night.


Just a quick announcement…

Now that I have WordPress on my phone, blog entries may be a little more frequent.

Halloween Short Story: A Night at Studio 44

Halloween Short Story: A Night at Studio 44

Happy Halloween, everyone! So for this spooky season, I thought I’d give you a short story to read. I wrote this a year ago back in my  creative writing class and was waiting for Halloween to come to share it with you all.

If you enjoyed reading it, please be sure to share it with your friends and others who love a spooky and cool story.

Have a safe and spooky Halloween!

-Andrew 🙂

A Night at Studio 44

Instead of heading home to sleep, private investigator Hammond chose to spend the night in his office. He didn’t feel comfortable at home, preferring to sleep anywhere but his apartment. With no one waiting for him at home, he had no reason to leave a comfortable chair and oak table. Hammond wasn’t what one might say as kind; since the death of his wife two years back, he’s kept to himself. But it doesn’t mean that he won’t talk to others. He will as long as it helps him make ends meet. And at times those associations are quick; any association he had with someone usually ended poorly or with the wrong end of a pistol. He lived in his own little world.

He sat by his desk, face flat in losing gambling tickets and empty bottles. Late into the night, his door creaked opened. The blinding light woke him. Hammond looked up and saw a silhouette of a woman in her late twenties standing in the frame.

“We’re closed!” Hammond said, coughing and covering his eyes from the light.

“I don’t think you would be the one to turn down a job offer,” the woman said, walking towards a window across from Hammond’s desk. Her raven black hair cascaded over the top of her black and white dress.

Hammond groaned and stood up. Walking towards the window, he pulled the blinds up to see the dimly lit city. The street lights shined on an empty Battery Park across the street as isolated cars drove by while a lone bystander strolled along the sidewalk.  The woman turned on a desk lamp and looked and him.

“You got a name, miss?” Hammond said, putting a cigar in his mouth and lighting it.

“Margaret, you can call me Margaret,” she said, walking to a chair opposite of his desk.

Hammond sat down by his desk and looked up at Margaret. Her black eyeshadow and red lipstick reminded him of the movie he’d seen on the weekend, Mildred Pierce. Hammond straightened his sweater vest and took a drink of a nearby mug of water.

“Well what can I do for you?” he asked.

“Have you been keeping up with the times?”

“I try not to, but with the war wrapping up, I’m obligated to see current events whether I like it or not. Is there something I need to be looking at?”

Margaret reached into her small purse and handed him a slip of today’s newspaper.

Allied Forces Return Home!!

Following the death of Adolf Hitler and the surrender of the Nazi force, our troops are finally making their way home.

Hammond looked at Margaret with a sign of confusion.

“It’s just an announcement,” he said.

“Turn it around.”

On the other side of the slip, read a small column.

Strange Occurrences at the Old Radio Station

Following the big transition to another improved station, Studio 44 had been abandoned for a year.  Just two days ago, an anonymous scavenger stumbled upon strange markings on the wall and heard faint whispers in the hall. The scavenger recounts the markings as an animal skull surrounded by a circle and the whispers sounded of clicking and hissing. If anyone has any information regarding this station, please notify the police.

Margaret explained that the markings and whispers were paranormal. And that she wanted Hammond to investigate the area and report any findings back to her.  Unfortunately for her, Hammond was only a private investigator.  Unwilling to be deterred, she insisted that it should be him to undertake the job.

“Let me ask you something, Margaret,” he said. “Why me? Why should I take this job?”

“Because, Mr. Hammond, I know you are a paranormal investigator, a damn good one at that. And all this is a cover. You are a special individual, the only person I know that dabbles in the world of the wicked. Also you won’t turn down any form of money, not when you have these losing tickets to pay off. Name your rate and I will pay you. Money is no object.”

Hammond gave his rate, but he wouldn’t accept payment until the job is done. They both stood and shook hands. Before leaving, she wrote the number of her home phone on the newspaper slip.  Margaret left the office and closed the door, leaving Hammond alone with the desk light. He walked to his closet; inside hung a silver necklace, a tracking device, and his silver pistol. After grabbing his things, he left the office and made his way over to the radio station.

The drive took about a half hour. With no one on the road to block him, it was a smooth ride. Hammond reached the station in the dead of night. The radio station didn’t look broken down or decayed, and the neighboring buildings still showed signs of life inside as countless shadows flickered back and forth. He walked closer to the station doors, flashlight in hand. The loud creaking doors echoed through the empty halls. With no working lights around, the flashlight was Hammond’s best friend. He clipped the light to his belt and continued working.

Even though this seemed to be a simple job, Hammond had to go through with his usual routine. First, he had to ensure that there was in fact a paranormal event. Next the source had to be identified. Once it is, Hammond consults with the journal he kept on his person at all times. Inside the journal contained the instructions needed to fix the problem.  He then will go on and deal with the situation and collect his reward. Simple enough.

He reached for his tracker; a radio looking device that helped him find any signs of paranormal activity.  Slowly walking the hallways, Hammond pointed the tracker into the empty rooms.  Each room had knocked over chairs and rotten desks. The clicking of his loafers echoed throughout the building.  Upon reaching the last room of the first floor, he found the marking referenced in the slip. It was a skull of a stag surround by three intersecting circles, all painted in red. From his experience, he knew that the mark meant trouble. A stag skull was associated with ghosts, and the three circles would mean that there is an object in the area of importance. Hammond had to stay on his toes, knowing what he would find in the halls. The last thing he wanted was a wraith, slitting his throat and drinking blood from the wound.

As he finished checking the first floor, Hammond continued to the second. Just as he planted his feet on the final step he heard the sound of radio static. He walked closer trying to get a read on his tracker. It began to click in a slow octave with every step. Hammond finally found the source of the static, an old recording booth with a radio still on. He walked toward the radio to turn it off. But it wouldn’t shut down. The radio kept playing static. Trying again, Hammond pulled the plug from the wall, yet the static persisted. Hammond stared at it until suddenly the radio static shifted into a broadcast. He knelt down and listened closer, thinking that the radio would give him a hint as to what happened.

Following the gruesome attack on Studio 44, the Regional Broadcasting Station has decided to relocate to a new building, turning the other one over to nature. The attack occurred on March 15, 1944 as a lone gunman walked into the station with a loaded rifle. He gunned down the first forty people he came across. With no ammunition remaining, he switched to a trench knife and gutted those remaining. One of the few survivors around recalled what happened. “We just hid underneath our tables and behind curtains, hoping that he would walk away. I can still remember some of their cries and the blood running down the hall.” As of this broadcast it is known that the killer of the radio station has died from a self inflicted cut to the throat. This is Nicholas of NYR signing off.

Something was stalking Hammond, watching his every move. He got up and turned around as his tracker began to click in the direction of the doorway. The light of his flashlight caught some sort of deer or animal’s head. It immediately backed away into the shadows. He walked closer and turned the corner. Nothing. Once he knew what he was dealing with, Hammond rushed outside and found a nearby phone. He turned the dial and waited as the tone rang.

“Hello?” Margaret answered.

“This is Hammond; we spoke earlier about the radio station. I have some new information.”

“Yes of course, what do you have?”

“We’re dealing with a wraith with the head of a stag. If you don’t mind, could you bring me some provisions? I don’t think I can take care of the problem with what I have on me,” Hammond said.

“It shouldn’t be a problem, what do you need?”

Hammond reached into his jacket and found the list of items needed to curing the problem inside his journal.

“I need some salt, holy water, and gasoline. They shouldn’t be hard to find. Although there isn’t a church nearby to get holy water that I’m aware of,” he said.

“I know of a church near my home. I’m on my way,” Margaret said, hanging up the phone.

Hammond hung up the phone and waited. In one of the windows of the second floor, a fairly large shadow wandered the station. The head had some kind of bone or wood sticking out the top, and the limbs were long and slender. The shadow stayed in the window frame for four seconds and disappeared. Unless he wanted to end up dead and on the morning newspaper, Hammond knew enough not to reenter without the proper supplies. Instead he stood near the lamppost and quietly smoked his cigar.

With the morning sun raising its head, Hammond knew he had to finish before morning. His journal specifically instructed that the wraith must be killed before the morning sun rises. If not, it will escape and appear in another part of town. In the dawn light, he saw Margaret, still wearing her dress, walking down the street carrying a small can. She handed him a small pouch of salt, a bottle of holy water, and a can of gasoline.

“So what do you intend to do with this?” she asked.

“First, I have to take care of the wraith. He’s bound to the place by something in there. I found an old radio inside that looked in mint condition. I bet it’s that thing. And if that goes horribly wrong, I’ll have to burn the station down. If I’m gonna do it, I got to do it now. When that sun comes up, the wraith goes away and terrorizes another place. Now if you’ll excuse me Margaret, I’ve work to do.”

“I will be here if you need any assistance,” Margaret said, standing by the lamppost.

Hammond stopped, half turning around, “Are you sure you don’t want to come in? It’s dangerous to be alone at this hour,” he said.

“Well, if you don’t think I will get in your way. But won’t it be safer to stay out here?”

“It’s only dangerous if you stray too far. Stick by me and you should be fine. Besides, I can’t let a woman like you alone out here in the dark,” Hammond said, picking up the gasoline. “Let’s get started.”

The two of them returned to the radio station. Hammond gave her the pouch of salt and instructed her to sprinkle it at every door frame. The salt would trap the wraith within the station so that it couldn’t escape. With Margaret’s help, the two of them managed to lay the first floor with salt. In addition, Hammond also poured gasoline into each room as an extra precaution to burn the station to the ground. RBS wouldn’t bother with an abandoned building; hell, maybe they will benefit from insurance money.

Once on the second floor, Hammond and Margaret walked toward the wall with the marking. She held the flashlight in her hands and stared at the mark. Meanwhile, Hammond poured gasoline onto the mark and took out his lighter. He touched the gas, and the mark was engulfed in flames. As they watched the mark burn, the color of the flame changed from a bright orange to a deep blue. Margaret reached out her hand out of curiosity, but Hammond pulled it away. She apologized, and they continued preparing.

After a half hour of gas and salt, they finished at the final room with the radio. Margaret sprinkled the last of the salt by the door and leaned on a table. Hammond looked at the radio one last time. It had finally died, but a red sticky liquid oozed from the speaker. Hammond realized that it was blood. The object the wraith is attached to was the radio He quickly placed it on the ground and poured gasoline over the hard. With the lighter, he lit the radio into a blast of blue fire. With the preparation complete, all they had to do was wait for the phantom to show its face. Hammond took a seat on a desk and waited.

“So what happens when the wraith shows up?” Margaret asked.

“I’ll shoot it; unfortunately, my journal says this particular ghoul can’t be harmed by silver. But they can be stunned. When it is down we’ll pour the holy water on it and burn the place down. The mark on the wall was its entrance. With that gone, it has to face us; there is nowhere for it to go. This wraith in particular is drawn to this place, maybe because of the killings I heard about on the radio,” Hammond said.

Margaret sighed and stood up. “Well for the time being, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“Doesn’t seem like the right time to talk about it.”

“It is a good time as any. The fire is still burning and the wraith hasn’t shown its face.”

He chuckled and said, “Well, you already know about me. How about you, what’s Margaret’s story?”

“Very fair, I was born in Manhattan. I graduated in the top ten percent of my class, and have a degree in Greek mythology. My mother was a nurse and my father dabbled in the dark arts. It’s how I know about things like this. Maybe someday I want to continue his work. This radio station was my way of seeing if I can handle it.”

“Sounds like you had a normal life,” Hammond said.

“Well normal in your line of work, yes.”

There was a clicking noise coming from the hall. Hammond stood with his pistol in hand. The clicking was getting louder with each step closer. He put his back to the wall and listened closely. The wraith was right behind that wall. Margaret stayed still inside the room.  Hammond swung around the corner, pointing his pistol in the empty hallway. He gave out a sigh and returned to the room. He looked at Margaret. She was staring at him, hands covering her mouth.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“It’s right behind you…”

Hammond felt a cold breath touch his neck. The sound of gurgling and snarling echoed throughout the station. In a quick motion, he ducked below the wraith and fired two shots into its chest. The thing shrieked and swung its elongated arms. Hammond ducked out of the way and pushed the wraith into the hallway. Pinned to the wall, the wraith vanished, but not without leaving a trail of a bright fluid out of the room and into the hallway.

The wraith was stunned but still walking. An extra two shots could take it down. Hammond and Margaret followed the trail downstairs to the center of the building. They spotted the wraith making another mark on the wall with the fluid. Hammond leaped onto its back to keep it off guard. The bottle of holy water fell out of his pocket. Margaret took the bottle and poured the content onto a broken chair leg. She ran up to it and struck the wraith. The holy water made the wraith burst into flames and it fell backwards into the puddle of gasoline, creating an even brighter fire. Hammond and Margaret rushed out the station to not become engulfed.

Outside in the cool weather, Hammond and Margaret sat on the curb looking at the sunrise.

“So the wraith is gone?” Margaret asked.

“I’d say so. The building is just an extra precaution. Good work with the holy water,” he said.

“I actually didn’t expect it to work. I’ve mostly just set up the contracts and that’s it. It’s a nice change of pace.”

They stood up and looked at each other. Margaret reached into her pocket and pulled out a check. She gave it to Hammond as payment for the job. Again thanking him for his work, Margaret assured him that if she finds any other issues that she will find him. They shook hands and stood there for a while, looking at the sun rise over the skyline. Hammond heard the sound of fire trucks coming their way.

“We should get out of here before the police and fire department show up,” Hammond said.

“Where would we go?”

Hammond looked in the direction of his office. “My office sounds like a safe bet.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Margaret said, brushing off her dress. “But I think I’ll just walk home.”

As the sirens came closer, Hammond and Margaret went their separate ways. The sun rose above the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. As the sun’s rays touched the ashes of Studio 44, a small blue flame died out.

Thoughts On: Battlefield 1

Thoughts On: Battlefield 1

Hi everyone! So Battlefield 1 has been out for a while if you had EA/Origin Access. But for myself, I bought it yesterday and had the 9 P.M. release yesterday. After finishing the story mode and playing some of the multiplayer, I think it’s time to give my thoughts on it.

War Unlike Any Other

This is the first Battlefield I’ve played since Battlefield 3. After hearing about the terrible launch of Battlefield 4 I thought that this one will be no different. And I’m big enough to say that I was wrong. Battlefield 1 is a refreshing addition to the series and perhaps the best Battlefield since Bad Company 2.

Note on Multiplayer: If you are into the Battlefield multiplayer you’ll feel right at home. Simple as that. Now onto what I really want to talk about.

The thing that really stood out for me was the story mode. Like Valiant Hearts, the story focuses on different people and what happened to them during the Great War. I loved the variety of characters and how their specialty also reflected what type of missions you’ll be playing. As an example, there is a character who specializes in driving and it’s his job to drive a tank. So some of his missions will involve driving a tank through war. Each character has their special job that makes their story very memorable.

Out of the five stories you will experience, my personal favorite is one called “Friends in High Places.” In this story you experience WWI through the eyes of a guy named Blackburn who volunteers to be a fighter pilot. I felt his story was the most interesting and his setpieces give way to some of the most visually stunning places I’ve seen in a video game. As for the other stories, they are equally good and well made except for one story regarding an Italian heavy armored fighter. This story felt the weakest out of all of them and was in turn the shortest. I’m going to keep spoilers out of this, so this excerpt is gonna be short.

The biggest gripe I have with the War Stories is that they are all short (each one being at least 2 and at the most 4 chapters). If each story was longer I’d be more engrossed in the stories and felt even more attached to the characters.

Now aside from the great story mode, the stand-out thing for me is the score. From sneaking behind enemy lines, to shooting down a zeppelin, the music was absolutely perfect. I want the soundtrack right now (and at the time of writing has not been released). My favorite track has to be during “Friends in High Places,” where Blackburn is soaring through the sky fighting German planes and the score turns heroic as the classic Battlefield melody follows the amazing score.

Final Thoughts

So overall, Battlefield 1 is a return to form for the shooter. The WWI setting is refreshing and the war stories are memorable (aside from armor guy). The multiplayer is the same thing it’s always been. So if you like Battlefield and its multiplayer, I strongly recommend playing Battlefield 1.

Thanks for reading, and I’ll see you next time.

-Andrew 🙂

Thoughts On: The Turing Test

Thoughts On: The Turing Test

Hi everyone! The Turing Test has been out for two months now. If you were on the fence or never heard about this game, feel free to stick around as I give you my thoughts about this game.

A Pleasant and Thought-Provoking Surprise

Honestly, I didn’t expect much out of The Turing Test. I didn’t even know this game existed. It wasn’t until I saw it appear on the Xbox store and Steam that I thought about picking it up. As I read the description about it, I thought to myself, “Puzzles? Philosophy? Sure I’ll give it a shot.” In a nutshell, The Turing Test is a first-person puzzle game set on Europa as a woman named Ava Turing is sent to deal with something through puzzles only meant to be solved by humans. That’s pretty much all I’m telling about the story.

The first thing that really popped out of the game is the soundtrack. The score by Sam Houghton and Yakobo is a masterpiece in of itself. My favorite track thus far has to be “Crews Quarters.” The solemn piano track that builds up until more instruments come in absolutely gives me chills every time. The soundtrack is available now and is a must-buy.

Next I’ll talk about the meat of The Turing Test, and that is the puzzles itself. Each one is carefully crafted and challenging. The gameplay is reminiscent of the Portal games and Talos Principle. As the game progresses, there will be optional puzzles that can be solve for additional story content and achievements. After solving a room, I immediately felt like I accomplished something. And when that lightbulb lights up in your head on how to actually solve the puzzle is absolutely gratifying.

What really surprised me about the game was its dilemma. There is a moral compass that floats around in the game as the A.I. companion TOM speaks to you about what is happening. He speaks about humans and machines where you actually say, “He’s actually right.” To have a game that walks on a moral gray area where both Ava and TOM are right about both ideals. This game is extremely though-provoking and sheds light on a tough subject. The double meaning of the title “The Turing Test,” is that it involves the real Turing Test (by Alan Turing) and the main character Ava Turing. The real Turing test determines if a machine can behave and solve problems just as good as a human (don’t quote me on this). Whereas the other meaning is of Ava Turing, where this is her test to find out what happened on Europa; because TOM is unable to solve the puzzles.

To wrap up my thoughts, The Turing Test is a sleeper hit for 2016. It’s challenging, thought-provoking, and a great puzzle game. Where the end of the game puts a moral weight on your shoulders. This along with Unravel, hold a place in my heart as personal favorite games of 2016. If you haven’t played this game, I strongly urge you to play it. For only $20, this game is worth the price.

That’s all my thoughts for The Turing Test. If you liked what you read, I have my thoughts on the puzzle game Unravel, music in video games, and my series Road to Publication. Have a good night or good morning and I will talk to you later.

-Andrew 🙂

Road to Publication #3: Second Doubts

Road to Publication #3: Second Doubts

Hello to whoever just happened to be reading this. It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on this and I thought I’d give an update to my road to publication for my novel The Impure.

So far, it hasn’t been easy. For the past year I’ve sent countless queries to countless literary agencies. And among the countless queries, only 40 of them responded, each one being a rejection. Those are just the ones that actually have responded. There are still ones that didn’t have time to respond, though I still think they’re rejections.

With all these rejections I’m having doubts and second thoughts. Is my writing any good? Will it ever be published? Should I just quit? Then I have to start and think about what is wrong. And usually I start with me. Mostly I think that my biggest problem is the query letter alone. Maybe it isn’t as good as it sounds in my head or it’s just bland. So I rewrite it to be more appealing and less eye-gouging. But even with that, I still get rejection after rejection.

Sometimes these doubts fill into my head right after I receive a rejection and it’s just a really bad feeling. It’s like… I pour my heart and soul out into the pages and I send it out, only to see people say “no.” I get that the market is subjective and it has preferences, but it gets rough.

Then something hits me. Is it because I don’t have “credibility?” I have to admit, I’m still in college and fairly young. Could that be the reason my queries are getting rejected? I has to be…

Nevertheless, with all the doubt, all the second thoughts, I have to power through all of it. I know my story is worth telling. Just maybe, some literary agent will just give me a shot and say “Hey, I trust your writing and you. Let me represent you.” But when will that day come?

I’m sorry, this is just gibber gabber from a college student with a dream. It’s just… I’m getting really tired of being in school for days on end hoping to get normal job and be a drone for the rest of my life. If you made it this far, you earned yourself a sticker. And thanks for reading my thoughts.

Have a good weekend and have a good night.


Cancelled Short Story: A Light in the Dark

Hi everyone! Since I’m running out of ideas and thoughts, I thought I’d give a part of a cancelled story I wrote. Originally, A Light in the Dark was supposed to be a collection of short stories based on the video game Destiny. But I cancelled the project as I had to focus on schoolwork and also trying to get The Impure published (Oh! Next post idea!).

The first story, Feron-4, was originally a two part story, but I only finished the first part. So down below will be what I wrote. So feel free and have a read. While I’m at it, I’m gonna leave a track from the Destiny soundtrack to listen to while reading the story.

Have a good night, and I’ll see you next time.

-Andrew 🙂 Destiny: The Taken King (Bow to No One)

A Light in the Dark


Those that walk through the Tower’s archives, they won’t notice the name Feron-4 scribed into neither its walls nor its books. Most see him as another guardian who fell to the power of the Darkness, lost in the reaches of time. But to the Warlocks, he was more than a guardian. He was a scholar, a friend, a legend. This is the story of Feron-4.

We begin his story at the Tower, where one would likely encounter a Warlock. In the libraries, studying the mysteries of the Vex. Amidst the endless shelves of books and journals hid Feron-4. He chose to be alone. He never bonded with the other Guardians. And because of this, he found comfort in the scripts of the Golden Age. Feron couldn’t remember his past, even before his ghost brought him back from the dead. Hell, he tried to find mentions of himself throughout the books and found nothing. Like he was a ghost unto itself.

On a cold winter day, Feron sat in a table with a pile of books trying to learn more about the Vex weaponry and technology. He was about halfway finished when a woman, with brown hair and a feathered cloak, appeared in front of him. Her hand cannon sat clipped on her back while her hood was pulled back, revealing neatly brushed brown hair cascading to her left. She looked at him with her eyebrows scrunched together, as if she wanted something from him.

“Are you Feron?” she asked, clasping her hands together.

“It depends on who’s asking,” Feron answered, turning the pages of a book. He didn’t bother looking up to see who was asking.

“Name’s Hana, I was told if I wanted information about the Vex I’d look for you.”

Feron’s eyes shifted from a bright yellow to a soothing blue color. The antennae in his head receded and he closed his book and looked at Hana. He folded his hands on the table.

“The biggest piece of information I can give, is to shoot one in the glowing part. About the middle of the chest; where you’d expect a belly. And don’t stay near its tech for too long. Otherwise you’ll end up like Osiris. Is that it?”

“Have you heard of Atheon?” Hana asked.

“Time’s Conflux? Yes, I’ve heard of it. The Vex mind that can jump from past to future as it pleases. What of it?”

“I’m putting together a team to kill it. And I need information on how to find it.”

Feron scoffed and left his chair, taking a stack of books with him. Hana got up and followed him to the aisles. Feron put a few books back while picking a couple of new volumes.

“If this is some kind of joke, you need some more work. Atheon is inside the Vault of Glass. No one has gone inside and left. And if you were to enter it, which I don’t recommend, it’s not gonna be easy to get to him. A few Guardians reported something called the Templar just waiting to take your Light. And only the Traveler knows what is beyond the Templar. If you are willing to risk your life and the lives of other Guardians to kill something that can’t be killed, don’t bring me into it.”

“No one is dying on this mission, Feron,” Hana said. “If you can help me find more information about the Vault of Glass and Atheon, I promise you can have first dibs at whatever is inside of it. Just follow me to Venus and find what you can.”

Feron was one to turn down adventure for comfort, but he wasn’t one to turn down knowledge. He returned to the table and gently put his books down. With one hand on the stack, he let out a sigh and looked at Hana.

“Fine… I’ll help you take down Atheon, on one condition.”

She put one hand on her hip and said, “Anything you need.”

“There are rumors, about someone named Praedyth that went into the Vault. Anything you or your fireteam find in there about him, you bring it to me.”

Hana looked down at the ground and back at Feron. She smiled and extended her hand. “Deal.” Feron shook her hand and the two of them left the library.

Once outside in the Tower commons, Hana followed Feron to his vault where he kept his equipment: an orange hand cannon, a fusion rifle, and a helmet with feathers sticking out the backside.  He then walked to the gunsmith, Banshee, to purchase a few packs of ammo syntheses for the journey.

On the way to his last stop, Hana and Feron encountered the third member of the team. A titan named Yung. He stood heroic, carrying his helmet. He greeted Hana and she introduced him to Feron. Yung stood six feet tall and was covered head to toe in shimmering white armor. They called him “Hive Killer.” Stories about how he slaughtered a coven of wizards had spilled through the Tower like wildfire. He was a respected Guardian, but he wanted a real challenge. Hana recruited him after meeting in the European dead-zone. Yung stood in a pose that would make him look like a statue; leaning on his left foot, helmet cradled in the right hand, and a rocket launcher “Gjallarhorn” on his back.

Yung parted ways with Hana and Feron. The two Guardians finished their preparation by meeting Amanda Holiday, the shipwright, to find Feron his old ship. Being as he rarely traveled outside of the City a ship seemed unnecessary. Luckily for him, she found his ship gathering dust in a hangar. Amanda dusted it off and after a quick tune-up, it looked good as new.

Feron and Hana stood together by the hangar doors.

“Before you can kill Atheon,” Feron said. “You need to learn how to get to Atheon first. And that means opening the Vault of Glass. As far as we know, there is no way or no known way of opening it. The Ishtar Academy may have some information on it. I’ll be heading there first.”

“Do you need someone to help you out?” Hana asked, wiping her knife. “Venus has changed and not for the better. Sure Guardians are doing their best to keep the Fallen and the Vex at bay, but none of it seems to be working.”

Feron’s eyes clicked twice and shifted the color to white. “I think I can manage. I’m still a Guardian after all.”

The two parted ways, each into their perspective ships. Feron hopped into his ship and enter the location of the Ishtar Academy and the ship parted from the Tower and into the sky.