They call him The Voice, and they say that he speaks for The Traveler. Whether or not this masked man actually serves as the mouthpiece for that massive, floating sphere in the sky is irrelevant. What matters to me is that he seems to have a plan, and he claims that I have a role to play in it. Hundreds of us have roles, it would seem, and he refers to us each as Guardians.

I don’t know how I feel about all of this “chosen few” mumbo-jumbo. I was always picked last in basketball and I sure as hell wasn’t voted prom king, so being told I’m a special snowflake isn’t exactly setting my world on fire. I don’t want to be special; I just want to make a damn difference, and this guy is telling me that I might be able to do exactly that. If that's the case, then he can count me in. I always knew how to take orders and put up a good fight when our enemies came knocking. The way I see it, I’m being given a second chance to answer the door, and this time I’m feeling more powerful, more prepared than I ever have.

The Voice tells me that the journey will be long and dark but, in the end, we may very well bring back the light. It’s a slim chance, but I’m willing to take those odds. My first destination is Old Russia, that same bit of scorched earth where my Ghost found me laying amidst the rubble. The Hive and the Fallen have taken particular interest in that region, and The Voice says he has a series of missions he thinks would be right up my alley. I guess he saw a glimmer in my eye when he brought up the matter of taking the fight to our enemies.

Like I’ve been saying, I’m ready for battle. I’m a gun, and I’m happy to fire in whichever direction they want to aim me if it means reclaiming this planet back for humanity. Call it revenge or unfinished business, but I feel like this is what I was born—or at least resurrected—to do.

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