Mess Is Mine
TYPE: Transcript.
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Ghost-type, designate [REDACTED] [u.1], One [1] Guardian-type, Class [REDACTED] [u.2]
ASSOCIATIONS: [REDACTED]; Breaklands; Durga; Last Word; Malphur, Shin; North Channel; Palamon; Thorn; Velor; Ward, Jaren; WoS; Yor, Dredgen;
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[u.1:0.1] You were not always this man.
[u.2:0.1] True.
[u.1:0.2] Then the math says you do not need to remain this man. You can be other.
[u.2:0.2] I am other.
[u.1:0.3] You can be better.
[u.2:0.3] This is better.
[u.1:0.4] That matter, at best, is subjective.
[u.2:0.4] Then what? Lesser.
[u.1:0.5] Some would say.
[u.2:0.5] But what would you say?
[silence]
[u.2:0.6] All we've seen and now, here with me, you have no words.
[u.1:0.6] I have words.
[u.2:0.7] But...?
[u.1:0.7] But you will not like them.
[u.2:0.8] There is much I do not like.
[u.1:0.8] More now than ever it would seem.
[u.2:0.9] Heh.
[u.1:0.9] I find no laughing matter in your path.
[u.2:1.0] Only in the journey.
[u.1:1.0] What brought you here was nobility.
[u.2:1.1] And my prize.
[u.1:1.1] That is no prize.
[u.2:1.2] A curse then?
[u.1:1.2] I would say.
[u.2:1.3] And I would disagree.
[u.1:1.3] You are no longer yourself.
[u.2:1.4] I am myself. It's who I was that's gone.
[u.1:1.4] Who you were held all the value.
[u.2:1.5] To you.
[u.1:1.5] To the Light.
[u.2:1.6] The Light...
[u.1:1.6] It is all.
[u.2:1.7] It is nothing but a crutch.
[u.1:1.7] One that has held you up.
[u.2:1.8] Only just. And nothing more.
[u.1:1.8] Nothing more? You were a hero.
[u.2:1.9] And yet people still die. Corruption still exists. Light still fades. And Darkness still spreads.
[u.1:1.9] As it will ever be, that doesn't mean you give in to...
[u.2:2.0] To what? Hope.
[u.1:2.0] This is not hope.
[u.2:2.1] This is peace.
[u.1:2.1] You have blood on your hands.
[u.2:2.2] How's that any different than prior?
[u.1:2.2] Innocent blood.
[u.2:2.3] Matter of perspective.
[u.1:2.3] That's the shadow talking.
[u.2:2.4] And am I not.
[u.1:2.4] The shadow?
[u.2:2.5] Ya know... These past cycles, you've made an honorable effort. Tried your best to correct my course. But I don't know it needs correcting.
[u.1:2.5] And if it does?
[u.2:2.6] Could be too late.
[u.1:2.6] 'Could be' is a winding path.
[u.2:2.7] Long way from where I was to where I'm going.
[u.1:2.7] That is my hope. That there is still time.
[u.2:2.8] For?
[u.1:2.8] Corrective measures. The righting of our path. The cleansing of your shadow and a return to the Light.
[silence]
[u.2:2.9] Why'd you pick me?
[u.1:2.9] It doesn't work that way.
[u.2:3.0] Was I special?
[u.1:3.0] You were.
[u.2:3.1] But only as special as any other.
[u.1:3.1] You are all special.
[u.2:3.2] Seems to contradict the word don't it.
[u.1:3.2] Not in my estimation.
[u.2:3.3] If we're all special, are any of us special?
[u.1:3.3] Is that what you want? To be special?
[u.2:3.4] Heh.
[u.1:3.4] You dismiss, but it's a very serious question. Is that all you're after? Is all of the death worth that badge?
[u.2:3.5] Am I not already more than the rest?
[u.1:3.5] Looking at you here, now. The smoke, ash and bone at your feet mark you as so much less.
[u.2:3.6] Maybe. And yet here you are.
[u.1:3.6] Meaning?
[u.2:3.7] You have been at my side every step of the way.
[u.1:3.7] Where else would I be?
[u.2:3.8] Yet you disagree so thoroughly with my change in perspective.
[u.1:3.8] If only the change was simply one of perspective. Your "evolution" was no choice. This is not you having come to an understanding after careful considered thought. This is corruption.
[u.2:3.9] The shadows?
[u.1:3.9] The Darkness.
[u.2:4.0] Maybe so.
[u.1:4.0] There is no maybe here.
[u.2:4.1] And you think you can save me?
[u.1:4.1] I rekindled your Light, it falls first to me to aid in its survival.
[silence]
[u.2:4.2] I tire of it.
[u.1:4.2] You must try...
[u.2:4.3] I tire of you.
[u.1:4.3] [REDACTED]...
[u.2:4.4] That is no longer my name.
[u.1:4.4] I will not speak the other.
[u.2:4.5] It doesn't matter. This is where we part ways.
[u.1:4.5] I will not leave you.
[u.2:4.6] I am leaving you.
[u.1:4.6] Without me, your journey ahead will be more than any one Guardian can handle.
[u.2:4.7] That's the point. It's been sometime since you saw me as worthy of walking among those I once called brother and sister. Yet... anymore, I feel as though I am worthy of so much more.
[u.1:4.7] Without me... You will die.
[u.2:4.8] Someday. Won't be the first time.
[silence]
[u.2:4.9] Consider this my last good deed. I am releasing you of the burden of my deeds, both done and yet to come.
[u.1:4.8] I will not abandon you.
[u.2:5.0] You will. Or I will carve the Light from your shell and leave the carcass of my first and last friend in the dirt of this dull, red world for no one to find.
[u.1:4.9] Then I've failed you, completely.
[u.2:5.1] Not me. Maybe the man I was.
[u.1:5.0] He is truly dead.
[u.2:5.2] I believe so.
[u.1:5.1] Belief is not fact.
[u.2:5.3] Semantics I no longer have the patience for.
[silence]
[u.2:5.4] When you speak of me, use my proper name. Tell them of the man that stands before you, not the ghost of the hero I once was.
[u.1:5.2] You will always be [REDACTED] to me.
[u.2:5.5] If you cannot let that man go, you will forever taint his legacy. All the good I have ever done will be washed away in the fire of who I have become.
[u.1:5.3] If you care, there is still some promise within you.
[u.2:5.6] If I am being honest, I care only to give hope to the frightened, huddled masses so that when I come upon them they will have more to lose. Their pain will be greater. Their screams more pure.
[u.1:5.4] You...
[u.2:5.7] Nothing dies like hope. I cherish it.
[u.1:5.5] You're a monster.
[u.2:5.8] Finally, you see the truth.
[u.1:5.6] [REDACTED] is truly dead.
[u.2:5.9] So I've said. Long live Dredgen Yor.
[u.1:5.7] This is farewell, but you can only run from your sins so far. In the end, you will die alone.
[u.2:6.0] Maybe so. But I gotta tell ya... I tend to like my odds.
[u.1:5.8] Your tainted "Rose" will not always save you.
[u.2:6.1] Old friend... It already has.
Bastien sighed and ran a hand over his head. He blinked in the silent, dark of the Tower Archives; dark, save for the dim lights that came on during the late hours, and the electric-blue glow of the holopanel washing over his face. There were stacks of old books and documents littering the desk he sat at. A few Warlocks that had been hanging around gave him funny looks till they left. It was a rare sight to see a Hunter spend so much time in there. But it was late, and now it was just him. Just him, and a lone janitorial Frame tending to the place.
He wasn't looking up historical facts they taught in schools. He was looking up old legends whose only true confirmation had been by word of mouth, which had been all but forgotten by most. Bastien wasn't sure about the serial number on Mara's handcannon. After all, "Ward" came up many times as far back as Bastien dug through records. Many lives, different people. Was any of this even true? Maybe. He'd been obsessed with this particular legend as far back as he could remember. All because the handcannon had always been with him.
He couldn't remember when or how he came across it. There was none other like it, save for some recent, custom most models commissioned by fanatics of the legend. This must have been a custom order as well. He spent years digging up its past. Or at least, the little he could find of it. He'd even dug through Tex Mechanica's archives. The number matched their numbering algorithm, but private, custom order information had never stored. At least, not in old, public records; and he wasn't about to storm their headquarters to dig through their systems, as tempting as the thought was.
These were nothing but stories.
Bastien entered new queries and browsed for what felt like ages. Finally, buried even deeper into the system, he came across something a bit closer to what he was after.
"Source: Unknown. Figures."
He tapped on the panel, and the entry appeared before him.
Then.
Palamon was ash.
I was only a boy – my face caked in soot, snot and sorrow.
I'd assumed Jaren, my friend, our Guardian, the savior of Palamon, would always protect us – could always save us...
But I was a fool.
Jaren, and the others, only a handful, but still our best hunters, our hardest hearts, had left three suns prior. Tracking Fallen, after the bandits had caused a stir.
The stranger – the other – arrived the following day.
He rarely spoke. Took a room. Took our hospitality.
I was intrigued by him, as I was Jaren when he'd first arrived.
But the stranger was cold. Distant. Damaged, I thought.
But I wasn't afraid. Not yet.
Only a child, I knew the monsters of our world to walk like men, but they were not. They were something alien. Four-armed and savage.
The stranger was polite, but solemn.
I took him for a sad, broken man, and he was. Though, at the time, I didn't understand how that could make one dangerous.
As with Jaren, father made an effort to keep me away from the stranger.
It wouldn't matter.
As the silhouette approached, fear held tight.
The dark figure towered over me. Looking into me – through me.
He smiled. My knees weak. All lost.
Then, he turned and walked away.
Leaving ruin and a heartbroken, terrified boy in his wake without a second glance.
I've been chasing that stranger's shadow ever since.
Now.
We stood silent, the sun high.
Seconds passed, feeling more like hours.
He looked different.
He seemed, now, to be weightless – effortless in an existence that would crush a man burdened by conscience.
My gaze remained locked as I felt a heat rising inside of me.
The other spoke...
"Been awhile."
I gave no reply.
"The gunslinger's sword... his cannon. That was a gift."
My silence held as my thumb caressed the perfectly worn hammer at my hip.
"An offering from me... to you."
The heat grew. Centered in my chest.
I felt like a coward the day Jaren Ward died and for many cycles after.
But here, I felt only the fire of my Light.
The other probed...
"Nothing to say?"
He let the words hang.
"I've been waiting for you. For this day."
His attempt at conversation felt mundane when judged against all that had come before.
"Many times I thought you'd faltered. Given up..."
All I'd lost, all who'd suffered, flashed rapid through my mind, intercut with a dark silhouette walking toward a frightened, weak, coward of a boy.
The fire burned in me.
The other continued...
"But here you are. This is truly an end..."
As his tongue slipped between syllables my gun hand moved as if of its own will.
Reflex and purpose merged with anger, clarity and an overwhelming need for just that... an end.
In step with my motion, the fire within burst into focus – through my shoulder, down my arm – as my finger closed on the trigger of my third father's cannon.
Two shots. Two bullets engulfed in an angry glow.
The other fell.
I walked to his corpse. He never raised his cursed Thorn – the jagged gun with the festering sickness.
I looked down at the dead man who had caused so much death.
My shooter still embraced by the dancing flames of my Light.
A sadness came over me.
I thought back to my earliest days. Of Palamon. Of Jaren.
Leveling my cannon at the dead man's helm, I paid one final tribute to my mentor, my savior, my father and my friend...
"Yours... Not mine."
...as I closed my grip, allowing Jaren's cannon, now my own, to have the last, loud word.
So, he was dead after all. But his steel could be alive as ever, as Malphur's may have been. Another fanatic, but on the other end of the spectrum. Unless, of course, Yor was not dead. But would that be possible? Would his Ghost have returned to him in the end? And what would be his motive? He wished there were more people he could talk to. Places he could find more information. But these days, folks weren't interested in old legends anymore. There was too much going on to worry about such things.
Bastien downloaded the file for later study. He sat there silently for a long while. Something was different.
The equivalent of a human headache for en Exo ravaged his mind and he waved off the holopanel, cursing under his breath. He'd get to the bottom of this one way or another. Maybe another day.
He had initially considered suggesting his suspicions to the Vanguard, but they'd attributed the horrible abilities of the stranger to the orb. Wasn't a time for sensationalist claims. No matter. Not at this very moment. He stood, grabbing the stacks of books and setting them on one of the carts. Let the floofers figure it out. He gathered his own things, stuffed them in his satchel and made his way out of the archive.
It was a cold night. There were no clouds out, and the moon was nowhere to be seen. The sky was as black as ever, save for the eerie glow of the City's light reflected on the damaged belly of the Traveler. Bastien came to the railing, leaning on it. Everything was so peaceful from here. Had you never stepped outside of these city walls, you'd never imagine the horrors beyond. Even if you'd heard of them.
Must be nice.
He lit a cigarette and placed it between his lips. Strange, despite the habit, he realized he never really found himself wondering what it tasted like. What it smelled like. He'd heard it wasn't exactly pleasant, but at that very moment, he sort of longed for it. That calming "nicotine buzz." Somehow, he'd never devoted a moments time to think about this singular thing. And certainly not to do something about it.
"Deacon?"
The little Ghost appeared. "Yes, Bastien?"
The Exo reached into his pocket and pulled out his trip chip. "Think you can program this for nicotine?"
The Ghost bobbed enthusiastically, and beams of blue light illuminated them both for a moment.
"One moment. Nicotine? Hmm. Interesting. Parasympathomimetic alkaloid. Stimulant. Carbon. Hydrogen. Nitrogen…"
The chip flashed a tiny red light.
"Done," Deacon said, a tone pleased with his success. "Interestingly enough, I found this less challenging than converting the alcohol effect equation. Retrofitted it for nicotine. I didn't expect the effect to result as potent as the very cigarette you have right now, but there it is."
"Hm," Bastien hummed, impressed. Exo's 'immune systems' were incredibly proficient, and even less completely understood. While the Ghost could resurrect Bastien intact, along with his thoughts if he were to 'die,' the blueprints, if you will, were coded for an exact reconstruction, and the Ghost couldn't change it or learn much more than that if it wanted. So he had said, anyway.
Bastien used the chip and waited. In moments a fuzzy, cool feeling washed over him, and he closed his eyes. He sighed in a sort of relief he'd never quite felt before. That was followed by a bit of dizziness. But it wasn't all bad.
"I hope you know that the only reason I did this for you is because you cannot die from its adverse effects. You also cannot become addicted. Not physically, at least. Perhaps habitually, though it seems like that's redundant to say."
The Exo smiled and tapped the ash from the tip of the cigarette. "You know me."
Deacon spun. "I am your Ghost." It dissipated.
Bastien flicked the butt off the side of the Tower, watching it fall into the night fog.
Littering ain't the biggest threat to our planet right now, is it?
He made his way back to his quarters. It'd been a good while now, and Mara was back to good health, thanks to her own seemingly flawless metabolism and healing rate. Unfortunately, the beating the stranger gave her had left her a few new scars. The thought made Bastien fiery to his core. He shook his head, wanting to push those thoughts away. What's done was done. Not that Mara wasn't plenty capable of protecting herself (in fact, there had been many times that she had saved his dumb ass from embarrassing situations), but he had sworn to himself he'd never let anything like that happen to her again anyway.
After the slow walk down, having taken the stairs, he finally reached his quarters. Sensors told him it was warm inside, but Mara wasn't there. He walked over to the bathroom, tapping on the door lightly. Nothing. He opened the door. Still, nothing. Where was she?
Walking back out, he looked at the note again, scrawled on a yellow sticky note, stuck to their refrigeration unit.
Got some things I've gotta take care of.
Everything's good.
Sorry for the secrecy. I'll be back soon, and we'll talk.
M
She'd been gone for a couple days now.
He made his way over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. He stripped down and laid back, crossing his hands behind his back, staring up at the ceiling. It was quiet, save for the low, faint hum of the power conduit in the wall.
He didn't have any real leads on his own investigations, and they didn't exactly have any missions to go on at the moment. And even though the Iron Banner competition was around the corner, he hadn't the slightest interest in competing this time around. Not with everything that had been happening. Neither did Mara.
So he closed his eyes, and shut down for the night.
"You think you're all high and mighty takin' up what ain't yours. You think you're so special cause you've got that there piece, don'tcha?"
"Truth is you ain't half the man your old man was."
The boy let the cigarette fall from his mouth, his cloak fluttering softly in the dry wind- hand itching to curl his fingers around the grip of his iron.
"Without a doubt. But if I'm even a quarter he was? More than enough to take care of the likes of you."
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Bastien stirred awake. These dreams… He shook his head. He hadn't had dreams like this since the last bit of legends he'd obsessed over. Charlemagne's Vault was-
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He reached over to the nightstand and picked up his comm. "Geez, hey, sorry. Just waking up. What's going on?"
Haden sat at the bar, a beer in hand. He wasn't in the same old bar they frequented this time, no. He was at the other old bar. The one down in the City that had been there as far back as anyone could remember. The one where he'd first met Ayla. She had knocked him on ass for being a rude drunkard.
"What? Right now?"
Bastien groaned and swung his legs off the bed, sitting up. "You're joking?"
"Nah, man. You okay?"
"Hell no, rough night last night," Bastien said as he got up and looked around. Mara was still gone. "Was up for a good while, doing research and the like."
"Sounds to me like you could use a beer."
"You know I can't drink."
"And you know what I mean. C'mon, get your shiny, metal ass over here and keep me company."
"Kinda far. Sure you'll have time for me?"
"Yep, practically just got here. Just popped the cap on this here Jolly Roger's. Got some special trip chips waiting for ya, too. Though now that I think of it, I probably should've just took a detour on the aerocab."
Bastien chuckled. "No worries. Alright, Haden, I'm on my way."
Bastien dressed casually, as he usually did when venturing into the City; he threw on a gray shirt, a faded leather jacket, black pants, boots, and of course, his shiny, new Hakke Llefelys-D sidearm, holstered on his hip. Guardians weren't seen as often out there, and when they were, people stared in awe, and few here and there even in fear. Most of the children, though, were never afraid. They were Earth's mightiest heroes.
It wasn't a terribly long trip, maybe thirty minutes to take a shuttle down to the tram station, and board one to the heart of the City. The Exo stepped down onto the busy street. Downtown never slept, and there were crowds of people moving up and down, merchant stands, performers… the conglomerate of all these sounds thrown in with traffic and the rumbling of another tram passing overhead almost made him nauseous. The Tower was so much quieter.
He made his way through the crowd. Several civilians gave him strange looks, though most didn't seem to be able to tell he was a Guardian at that point. Finally he came to the glaring neon sign over the old fashioned swinging doors.
OLD AL'S SALOON
He sighed and made his way in. The place was somewhat packed, and much like the bar back in the tower, there were ancient signs, though here? Things looked a little more run down. Didn't seem to keep the customers away at all, though. And no, nobody had any memory of who Al actually was, save for a very old, framed picture of him that hung ont he wall behind the bar. Good old Al. Bastien stood near the entrance for a moment, looking for Haden. Haden swiveled on his stool, beer in hand, waving him over to the bar.
Bastien, for some reason, half expected the Titan to be wearing his bulky gear. Instead, he wore dark, faded jeans, the legs tucked into his boots, and a black, unzipped sweatshirt over a black shirt. The Exo came up to the bar, and the two had a quick, back-patting hug.
"Hey, B. How you doin'?"
Bastien took a seat next to him, and Haden slid a few trip chips down the counter to him.
"Little worse for wear. Trying to keep my head of the mission and failing."
Haden took a swig of his beer and set it down on the counter, licking his lips. "I hear ya," he nodded.
"You?"
Haden shook his head, looking down at the bartop, the old wood cracked and covered in etchings of names, profanity, you name it. "Been way better. Hanging in there." The Titan took another swig. "How's Mara?"
Bastien took one of the trip chips, and leaned over the counter, lighting a cigarette. "Good, good. Pretty swift recovery, though she's been grounded until they can make sure she's fully recovered. Which it seemed like she was just a week after, but they're not taking any chances on losing her. Ghost missing and all. Left sometime yesterday though, said she had to take care of some things."
Haden raised his eyebrows. "That's a little strange."
"Yeah, a bit. Though, I haven't tried calling her. We're Hunters. Y'know."
Haden nodded. "Well, be sure to give her a call anyway if a little too much time goes by."
"I will."
The Titan downed the rest of his beer, and waved over the bartender. "How 'bout another one of these?"
The bartender, Ronald, a slightly plump, grizzled man, nodded, grabbing the empty bottle and tossing it it into the bin behind the counter. "You got it, boss. Anything else?"
Haden scratched his chin. "A scotch? On the rocks, please." The bartender nodded, and went off to get his drinks.
"So," Bastien said, flicking the ash from his smoke into an ashtray. "What do you think you're gonna do now?"
The Bartender returned, popping the lid off the beer, and setting both drinks down on the bar.
"I don't know, B. Maybe find a new fireteam." He took a swig. "Hell, maybe just take a break altogether."
"This hit you much harder than I thought it would. Didn't know you two were that close."
"Yeah. Yeah, we kept it under wraps mostly. World didn't need to know. Vanguard sure as hell didn't need to know. And we weren't always. Mostly after that time on Luna is when things got more serious."
Bastien took a second trip chip.
"Man, she was beautiful. Smart. Smarter than me, that's for sure. Kept me sane. I never realized just how weak and stupid I could be; she was always thereto get me back on track." Haden sighed.
"You loved her?"
Haden chuckled, nodding slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I did." He chugged the rest of that beer and passed another trip chip to Bastien before taking the scotch glass. "Weird to hear, huh?"
"Maybe a little bit."
"Yeah. Well, good thing is her fight's over. She's in a better place now."
"A better place?"
"Yeah. I'd say she's with God now."
Bastien tilted his head. "You believe in those old fairy tales? You?" He straightened himself out. "Sorry. Not that I mean anything by it, it's just…"
"No, I get where you're coming from. But, you believe in the Traveler, don't you?"
"Well, sure, but seems that's a bit different."
"Is it?"
"It's right out there. You've seen it, we've all seen it. That ain't about believing, that's about seeing."
"It's all about believing."
"With all due respect, Haden, what are you talking about? The Light, our abilities, our Ghosts-"
"Doesn't matter." He replied, matter-of-factly.
Bastien rubbed the back of his neck. "God? Silent. Has been since way before the Collapse. Hell, it should never have happened if God existed. He wouldn't have let this happen to all of us."
Haden sipped his scotch. "And the Traveler? Silent. Immobile. It's really done nothing."
"It protects us. Gave us the very power we wield to defend our world."
"So does God, in a way. Don't you see? It's not all very different is it? The Traveler gave us the Light, yeah. Gave us a second chance. Any man can pick up a gun and fight. But without drive, without purpose, he is nothing. He is a husk. He can be bartered with, bought. Corrupted. I've known you for a long time now, B. I know you of all people want to know more what it's like to be a little less like a machine."
Bastien grimaced. "I'm sorry, Haden. You have a right to believe in whatever you wish. And I am sorry about Ayla. She was a good person. Better than most of us. I've just been… frustrated."
"Don't worry about it, B. I don't blame you. I really do get it."
"Thanks."
"Oh, and Bastien? Maybe God and the Traveler are one and the same. Maybe they always have been. Or maybe neither is as powerful as we think. In fact, I know the chances of what I believe being mere myth are overwhelmingly high. And maybe it doesn't matter in the end, but I do know one thing..."
He downed the rest of his drink, and waved at the bartender for another.
"I'm gonna keep fighting. I won't give up. And neither should you."
"Get that shit out of my face!"
It was noon, and Mara smacked away the vendor's hand, the bag full of mushrooms plopping to the ground and spilling its contents. He scrambled to his knees, picking the merchandise up. She bit her lip from saying further as she hastily walked away through a crowd of people, finally losing the guy. She normally wasn't this aggressive, but this vendor had been trailing her for about a block, insistent on selling her these totally, completely, not-hallucinogenic-at-all-mushrooms. She'd kept her cool and politely declined several times. She had done her best to scuff up her outfit a bit. Some tears here, some stains there. A bit of dust. It still probably screamed she bathed in glimmer every evening as she walked through this part of the City. It was one of the oldest districts near the heart of the City, and every street was crammed with people and vendor stands. Vehicles flew overhead, and only rarely would you see a Guardian wandering the streets.
She wore simple denim pants, and a grey, slim henley. She had thrown her old Hunter cloak over her shoulders. It was a bit more tattered than her new one, but it helped her blend in just a little more. Her hair was tied back into a short ponytail, with a couple loose strands over her face, and she had The Last Word nestled safely into her cloak with a shoulder holster.
She swooped into a dark alley for a moment, pulling a small datapad from her pocket. With a few taps, a holographic display appeared before her, showing a topographical layout of the surrounding area. The only problem was that, despite the City's best efforts to mark and categorize every shop and vendor, the place was organic, fluid, always changing. Some shops weren't even listed at all, and were only known of by word of mouth. Much like the one Mara was on the hunt for today.
She looked down at her left hand, the charm dangling from her grip on a silver chain. It was a claw- or perhaps a tooth- from a creature she couldn't quite identify. Outwardly, there wasn't anything particularly special about it, but upon closer inspection, one would find the material to be sort of crystalline, just barely transparent, with a faint, green glow within. Whether it was actually an organic tooth or claw, she had no idea. She shoved it back into her pocket and made her way back out onto the bustling street.
It was then that her eyes met the old sign. Quite simply, the word antiques, stenciled in chipped, cracking white paint above a storefront with barred, glass windows and elegant, yet old and dusty, curtains. She approached, her hand in her pocket, fingers lightly grasped around the claw. A free hand rose to push the door open, and a gentle breeze of cool air washed over her as she stepped in with the chime of the small bell on the door handle. Inside, there was a man in rusty looking armor, arms crossed, standing near the back, with a sidearm on his hip. A guard, it seemed. Not that the place needed much guarding with the stuff that was in here. Old furniture, trinkets, appliances. Nothing that went far back enough to the Golden Age that she could see.
She nodded in greeting to the guard, who simply stared back at her. She raised her eyebrows for a brief second, turning her attention to the counter and leaning forward on it, tapping the little bell. She overheard footsteps from the back room, when the door on the wall behind the counter creaked open, and out stepped a beautiful woman with curls of dirty blonde hair, and the fiercest pair of eyes Mara had ever seen. She shot the woman a smile.
"Why, good- oh, what is it," she said, pulling the sleeve up of her loose, red dress, to look at an old, analog wrist watch, "ah, yes, afternoon. And how may I help the weary Hunter today?"
Mara frowned. The woman chuckled. "Oh come now, you're not fooling anyone with that old Hunter's cloak," she smiled. "Although, I suppose I would be more knowledgeable than most about these things. So," she went on, her green eyes examining Mara carefully. "My name is Solana, and welcome to Solana's Antique Emporium. What can I do for you?"
Mara cleared her throat, with a quick glance over at the guard. "Yeah," she hesitated. "Do you know anything about Dredgen Yor and Shin Malphur?"
The woman's gaze turned serious. After a moment, a smile came over her. "Ah, a scholar, are we?" Mara smirked. "More of a comic book collector, if you feel me." she replied.
Solana grinned. "Well, in any case, it is always a pleasure to deal with the more educated sorts in these parts of town. Yes, I know the legends, though I am afraid if you are looking for any items pertaining to them, you would try another shop? Of course, don't let me stop you from browsing."
"Thank you," Mara replied, returning the smile. "Actually, I was hoping perhaps you could tell me more about them, so to speak."
Solana had a confused look on her. "I- Well, I suppose I could, though I assure you, I likely know just as much about it as you do, given the fact you've hunted down one of the oldest antique parlors in the city for information."
"I won't take much of your time, miss. Would you happen to know anything about Yor's handcannon?"
"These are merely legends, if the Thorn was out there, someone would have found it by now, I'm sure," she replied.
"I'm not so much looking for it, as trying to learn about it. Do you think there is any validity to the claims- the weapon itself, being able to devour it's victim's light?"
Solana sighed. "I believe so yes, if the stories are true. They say it wasn't the weapon itself, but a part of it. An essence. The gun was infused with something so dark – so terrible. A piece of the Darkness itself."
"A piece? A component? Corporeal?" Mara asked.
"I don't know, but I might assume. Then again, Darkness and Light can both be made into essence. Now, I may not be an expert, but I do know of some old method's, described in the works of Toland, the Shattered. I don't know the exact science of it, but one of his entries described a sort of talisman, or item that when exposed to the Darkness in a ritual, would come alive, hungering for light. Darkness, as we know, is the absence of Light-"
"I'm going on lunch," the guard called gruffly, heading out the door.
"Yes, dear, do be back on time now," Solana said. She turned back to Mara. "My apologies,"
Mara shook her head. "Not a problem; I'm learning a lot more than I expected."
The woman nodded. "Darkness, is the absence of light, and what does Darkness need to overcome light? Simply, a lack of it, or literally, more space than the light can fill. These items were some of the most powerful tools of the Darkness, and they had the ability to consume light from its most powerful incarnation - Guardians. There are only seven mentions of them across known texts, though I suspect it could be possible one of them may have been used in the creation of Dredgen's Thorn."
"I see," Mara said, her eyes trailing across the counter, her tongue in her cheek for a moment. She trembled slightly.
"Have you heard of the Shadows of Yor?"
Mara shook her head.
"I see Ikora has kept many of you out of the loop," Solana replied.
Mara shook her head again. "How... do..."
Solana raised a hand. "You came to me for information, did you not?"
Mara remained silent.
"The Shadows of Yor are a group of Guardians who idolize Dredgen Yor. To the point that they use replicas of Yor's signature weapon, Thorn, and have adopted new names in honor of him. Most disturbingly, they have even explained away his terrible misdeeds by claiming it was all a lie, that he turned because he had no choice. Their ultimate goal is to become as close to him as possible without falling to the same corruption. Surely you have encountered them, in the Crucible?"
"It's been some time," Mara replied.
"Ah, of course. Now, although these 'shadows' assert that their Thorns have been cleansed of any influence of the Darkness, the Shadows of Yor have begun exhibiting increasingly strange behavior, including ignoring objectives in the Crucible and killing other Guardians during matches seemingly for the pleasure of killing."
Solana paused.
"You may wish to find them, Mara. They may have more answers for you than I have."
"I think that's all I really needed to know then, Solana, I do appreciate the help." She nodded and started to turn for the door.
"Oh, before you go, is there any particular reason you're so interested in this?"
Mara shrugged, a half-smile on her lips. "Call me a lore buff," and turned once more.
"Of course," Solana said, walking around the counter, her hands clasped lightly together.
There was the click of a safety, as Solana held a handcannon, produced from the inner side of the counter and held it to Mara's back.
Mara froze.
Solana approached Mara carefully. "I'm so sorry. I know you have it. I need you to hand it over."
"Who are you?" Mara asked quietly, unmoving.
"I told you, my name is Solana. That, is the truth. Now, the crystal. Give it to me, and you can just walk away."
"You could have shot me by now and taken it just as easily. Why haven't you?"
Solana trembled. The truth is, she had no desire to kill Mara. To kill anyone. She had her own story. Her own motives. "Well. He still needs you. But the crystal is a priority right now."
"He? Who is 'he'? And for what?" Mara said, having turned her head enough to be looking right at her.
"You already know who he is. You've met. He's always watching. There's no escape. Just give me the crystal, and you walk. Believe me, it will only bring you pain," she replied, her face solemn. She almost looked like she was going to burst into tears.
"That's not going to happen."
Solana actually pulled back the hammer on her gun this time. "Don't make me do this, Mara."
She knew her name. All of this was more than enough to know there was something bigger going on. Mara moved her eyes towards the back of the room. Once. Then twice. It worked. The slightest of a turn of Solana's head to look behind her was all Mara needed, and she ducked, sweeping a leg up and out, swiftly kicking the handcannon from the woman's grip. In one fluid motion, she rose to draw The Last Word, but Solana was quicker than Mara had expected and grabbed her wrist, proceeding to headbutt Mara back. The gun fell to the ground. Solana dove for it, and Mara kicked it away, grabbing Solana by the back of her dress and pulling her, landing three punches to the woman's head, and tossing her over the counter with a growl.
At that moment, gunshots rang out, and the wooden door to the shop splintered as rounds tore through it. She dove for cover behind a row of large, old metal lockers, and the guard from earlier, followed by another man in armor made their way in, sidearms raised.
"ust give it up now and we'll let you go," one of them said.
"You hear that? We know you got no Ghost. We'll make this easy for ya."
Mara felt furious. She unsheathed her knife, and pushed the row lockers. It crept forward and fell. With the distraction, as soon as the men had come into view, she leapt and threw her knife. It flew true and sank into the throat of the first one. She caught up with him, and pulled the knife, a stream of crimson spattering the floor. Shots rang out from the remaining man's gun, but Mara was already too close from an angle, and she buried the blade in the last man's side, twisting it slowly.
"And I know you don't have one either." She said, inches from the man's face, before pulling her knife back, and kicking him towards the wall. He groaned and clutched his side, starting to crawl towards the door. She followed.
"N-no, wait, p-please, I was only doing my job… Please…"
She leaned down and sank it into the man quickly another three times. He cried out, holding a shaking, bloodied hand. "P-Please!" he moaned, and Mara smacked away his hand, finishing him with a slice to his throat. Blood streaked her clothes. He toppled over. She was trembling. She quickly picked her gun up, and heard an almost derranged laugh.
Solana had gotten back up, and had another gun. Mara aimed the Last Word right back. They had both raised their weapons at the same time and both hesitated.
"You really have no idea what's going on, do you?" The woman asked. Dark tears and lines of mascara ran down her cheeks, as she walked slowly, circling Mara.
"So why don't you just fill me in?" Mara grunted.
"I can't do that. You want to save humanity, yes? Defeat the Darkness?"
"Do you really need to ask?"
"Then give me that trinket. There is no defeating the Darkness. We can only hold it back. Darkness is eternal. Before the stars, before there was anything in the void – there was Darkness. So it was at the beginning of the universe, and so it shall be at its end."
"It doesn't have to be that way."
Solana gritted her teeth, and shook her head, sobbing. "You don't know. You don't know anything."
"God fucking-damnit, then just tell me."
Solana shook her head, her weeping intensifying. "I can't. Dredgen. He is listening. He is watching. I'm done with this universe. I've been through hell and back. It's done nothing for me. I've only one thing left. He will take it from me if I don't obey."
Mara felt her rage start to subside slightly. Still, she kept her gun up. Solana hadn't lowered her own. "Dredgen? Dredgen Yor?"
"No. No, Dredgen Yor is dead."
"So he was real."
"Yes."
"As was Ward, and Malphur?"
Solana nodded. "As real as you and I. There's so much the Vanguard doesn't tell you Guardians about. I do not feel the draw of the darkness, Mara, that I can assure you. But I know my place in this fight. I am protecting the one thing, the one person that I care about. And right now, handing that crystal over is the only thing that will keep him alive."
"This 'Dredgen' is blackmailing you? The stranger from the bunker?"
"Now you understand, why I can't let you leave with that."
"Tell me what it is. You've hesitated this far. It's obviously important. I think a part of you knows you shouldn't deliver it to him."
Solana laughed, her free hand wiping her cheek. "Maybe. But then maybe I also don't care what happens to this planet. To this entire solar system."
"If you know what could happen," Mara replied, "Then you know it risks the life of whoever you are protecting."
"We can escape. There is an entire galaxy out there, Mara. The Golden Age may have been wondrous, but we barely even began to scratch the surface of our universe when we left our homeworld. Besides, I'd rather spend my final moments with him than be swallowed by the Darkness alone."
Mara shook her head. "Solana. It's not too late. We can turn the tide of war."
The woman was visibly growing more frustrated, and the gun shook in her hand. "You haven't seen what I have seen! You haven't even lived as long as I have! You do not know the power of the Darkness! Its malice. It is evil. Its will is unstoppable."
"Solana. Just. Just put the gun down. We can work-"
"No! No. I am done working things out. I am done talking. So I won't ask you again."
Mara stood her ground. "You know I can't."
"Then I am so sorry."
Solana began to squeeze the trigger. Before her gun could fire, a round tore through her. The woman gasped, firing back, but missing as she fell backwards. Smoke trailed from the barrel of The Last Word. Mara's face was blank, and she felt different. A power surged through her. Something new. Something dark. In a moment she realized, and pulled the crystalline claw from her pocket. It whispered to her and glowed brighter than before. The world around her was drowned by a low, deafening hum. She felt her ear drums pulse as tendrils of light rose from the bodies of the men she'd killed, into her fist closed around the claw. And soon? It subsided. Her emotion rushed back, when she realized what she'd done. Everything she'd done. She fell to her knees, her chest heaving. A crowd had gathered outside. Men and women had horrified looks on their faces, and the talked among themselves.
"Is she a Guardian?"
"What happened?"
"Why would anyone do this?"
"She's a hunter…"
She turned to look at them and stood slowly, backing away. A feeling of regret and shame washed over her. In her mind, she told herself she had no choice but to shoot the woman. But the man she'd disabled, and proceeded to brutally stab and slit his throat? There was no excuse for that. She had felt a rage she'd never felt before. A darkness within herself that felt like it had always been there. And she ran, tripping over Solana, the woman clutching her gut and sputtering blood as darkness crept into her mind. Mara raced to the back room of the shop. Through there, she exited through the back door into an alleyway, and she ran as fast as she could.
She was no stranger to death. No stranger to killing a man, or one of the invaders they'd all been fighting off of their worlds. But this was new to her.
Murder was different.
And here we are! Chapter 8 will be coming very, very soon!
