Rally was exhausted. Climbing over and through the ancient labyrinth, she felt her legs would give out at any moment. The three of them had emerged at last from the tunnels beneath the Cosmodrome, only to find their path blocked by a manmade mountain of rusting, long-abandoned shipping containers. The empty vessels had been piled by the thousands, and whatever their original purpose had been, they now served as a fortress to house the Fallen. With arc-blades and plasma torches, an army of dregs had cut their way through, forming a network of branching catacombs within the rubble. Despite the massive undertaking, the dilapidated structure now seemed truly deserted. As Rally trudged on, she was only vaguely aware of the weary footsteps of her companions behind her. She had never felt so alone.
She staggered from one steel tomb to the next, oblivious to her surroundings. Ancient thoughts, forever shrouded in hazy corners of her memory, now rushed forth in brutal flashes of clarity. There were no names, no faces, only pain and loss. It was always her. It was always him, and the beautiful child that their love had created. She couldn't have been older than four, and They ripped her away. They. Them. Him. All screams and breaking glass, a four-armed nightmare reaching, clawing, dragging her away. They reach to shield her, a streak of light, and then…nothing. Nothing ever again. Rally pried loose the buckle of her battered plasteel breastplate and slipped a hand inside. She withdrew a tattered scrap of fabric, yellowed with age, and examined it for the last time. It was adorned with subtle pastels, perhaps once a floral print, but obscured with a century or more of exposure. A single torn strip of cloth was all that remained to prove she had ever even existed. Her ghost told her that she had been clutching this when it found her. Rally wrapped the fabric into a ball and tightened her fist around it. Her eyes grew wet, but she fought back tears and gritted her teeth. She had not uttered a word to anyone since that fateful day, but tonight she would be heard. She would make them hear.
Twenty feet behind, just out of earshot, Vane was determined to get some answers. He drew Rubik close, and practically spat as he addressed him in an angry, whispered hiss. "I'm gonna ask you one last time, what exactly is the deal with this chick?!" The aloof warlock merely produced his familiar shrug, a knowing smile spreading across his luminous features.
"A wise man accepts a gift without question", he replied simply, his enlightened manner contradicted mightily by the shank hovering drunkenly behind him. "You have other gifts as well; perhaps you should make us of them."
Vane stiffened a bit at this, and grabbed the Awoken by his ruffled collar. "This is suicide! She's got some kind of death wish, we're surrounded by cosmic bad guys, and you're just…okaywith this?!" He glared at his companion, his eye twitching with rage as he struggled to keep a hushed tone. "I mean, that's fine for 'Joan of Arc-burn' over there, at least she's got that whole 'powered armor' thing, I'm just a dude!"
Rubik gently removed his friend's hand from his robes. "Any bird can fly, you must learn to fly as well." He stared at Vane expectantly, hoping to see some sort of epiphany within him.
"A bird only flies because it has wings", he replied sarcastically, and gestured towards Rally with one hand, while grabbing his own sleeve with the other. "Powered armor…just a dude."
Rubik looked at Vane as if he were an impertinent child. "Have you considered that perhaps a bird has wings because it already knows it can fly?"
Vane sneered at him. "Okay, if you're so smart, what about p-"
"Penguins are full of doubt", he replied sharply. "Don't be a penguin." Rubik drew in a deep breath and decided to abandon the subject. "On that note, I must leave you. I have other matters to attend to, but with any luck we shall meet again soon." Startled, Vane struggled to object, but he only managed an inarticulate murmur as the Awoken turned away from him. Rubik made some brief gesture in the air, as if thumbing through an invisible manuscript, and then both he and the damaged shank vanished in a purple flash of light. Vane cursed under his breath and shook his head. He stood there in silence for a moment, wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess. Eventually, he resigned himself to his fate and turned to catch up to the young woman who had been this cause of all of this. He was sure she was going to get them all killed.
Roughly an hour later, the pair had at last reached the end of the sprawling maze. Rally paused to press her ear against a set of monstrous iron doors, twenty feet wide and high. On the other side, a muddled din of nervous snorts and snarls could be heard. This was it. Her scattered thoughts were now sharpened to laser focus. She calmly put a hand to her hip and pulled her old revolver from its magnetic holster. She took one last look at the worn cylinder, but she already knew the answer: three rounds left. She bristled slightly as she felt a warm hand caress her shoulder, trying to reassure her. She looked into his eyes, gleaming with false bravado, and she knew this was right. Suddenly, she jerked in surprise, her attention turning to the darkened corridor behind them. Vane whirled around to meet this new threat, but was stopped short as a crashing blow connected with the back of his skull. His eyes fluttered briefly and he collapsed with a heavy thud that echoed through the metallic chamber.
Rally propped him into an upright position, his back against the wall of the shipping container. She gently kissed him on the forehead. This was her fight, not his. She placed the heavy revolver in his lap and turned back to the iron doors. The growls and yips of the Fallen beyond grew louder and more agitated. She knew they were waiting for her. She paused to wrap the scrap of faded fabric around the empty holster at her waist, forming a makeshift sash. Daisies. Those had always been her favorite. She clenched her jaw in resolute defiance, allowing the rage to consume her fully. It was time.
Dozens of Fallen awaited the brazen intruder. They guarded the entrance with murderous anticipation, forming a defensive line to protect their sleeping god. The Great Orb, The All-Knowing, The Many-Armed Majesty. He is much! He is all! And yet, He does not answer. We pray! We fight and kill and find! And yet, He sleeps. The dregs and vandals looked with fear at each other, searching for a sign as to why the enemy had been allowed to dig so deep. A single captain strode forward, four muscled arms flexing and clawing at the air. He snarled at the gathered throng, and in turn they adored him, enamored with his fury. Yes! This one knows! Lead the way, strike the foe, find the thing! He braced himself into a firm battle stance, glowing eyes locked on the massive doors, daring his prey to enter. He would not be disappointed.
A great grinding and scraping resounded through the Fallen shrine as the metal barricade began to move. With a final grunt of exertion, Rally heaved and the doors slammed apart with a deafening crash. She glared at the alien horde, but her gaze settled on the fearsome captain before her, eight feet tall and bristling with rage. Could it be? No, this was not the one. Still, he would have to do. This was enough. All sense of awareness washed away as pure, unbridled emotion took hold. Anger, grief, pain…and…andlossandherandhimandmeandarmsandafraidandwhyandsadandnoandnothingandAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHH! She threw back her head and silently screamed into the night, a hoarse, inhuman rasp, like Satan's fingernails across the chalkboard of God. The air was thick with her wrath, her face twisted in the unbearable bliss of ultimate agony. Grizzled Fallen veterans, warriors who had never known fear, knew it this night.
The ferocious mob was paralyzed by the sight. For a moment, even the mighty captain was given pause by her frenzied display. Her hatred was palpable, and rivulets of crackling arc lightning rippled from her armored flesh, popping and sizzling as they dissipated into the air around her. She gnashed her teeth at the beast, begging him to attack. What was this human? They are helpless and weak, they cower and scurry at our approach. This one was different. She would have to be a lesson, lest others follow. The captain bellowed at her and charged.
Terrified dregs looked on in horror at what followed. Their champion, a perfect specimen of careful breeding and unwavering discipline, was no match for a mother's anguish made manifest. She was a whirlwind, a colossus, the terrifying marriage of technology and raw emotion. Fallen grew nauseous with the squelch of cracking bone and tearing sinew and dying hope. Still, their god slept, a floating, helpless orb, ignorant to their pleas of mercy. Long moments later, Rally arose from the captain's battered corpse. She held two of its torn limbs, one in each gauntleted fist, as she leered at the stunned masses. The energy readout on her wrist was fluctuating wildly, but she was oblivious to its alarm. Her eyes were white with madness. Seeing their great hero dispatched by such a foe, the Fallen were wrought with indecision. She was human, and must be killed, but she had bested their hero, and must be worshipped. Rally made their decision easy. She leapt headlong into the panicked mass, blind fury guiding her assault.
Vane blinked as his blurry vision slowly returned. Still groggy, he struggled to make sense of the one-sided battle nearby. There were Fallen, so many Fallen, but what were they doing? They seemed to be just standing there, watching something he couldn't make out from this distance. A purple metallic orb, perhaps ten feet in diameter, hovered motionless at the rear of the Fallen phalanx. Realization struck him as he watched a slender feminine form rocket above the fray, her suit's onboard thrusters powering her ascent. Just as she reached her apex, she reversed course and plunged, boosters firing once more to propel her like a falling star.
Rally hit the earth in a brilliant-blue explosion that shook the very walls of the Cosmodrome. An entire legion of Fallen disintegrated in a fiery flash, and lashing tendrils of arc-rage razed scores more as they fled in terror. A wave of immolating blue fire washed over the area, cleansing it of all life. The great purple orb was thrown into a wall by the sheer force of the blast, but a shimmering force field protected it from the brunt of the blow. Seemingly awake at last, its singular prismatic eye swiveled wildly as it struggled to identify the source of the attack. Vane felt the hair rise on his arms as the concussive force hit him, a curious sensation akin to being told you have cancer whilst simultaneously being electrocuted. As the voltaic haze slowly lifted, it was clear that not a single Fallen lived. Dozens of them, all of them had simply been erased by the cleansing fire. Only the orb remained. Picking herself off the ground, Rally slowly struggled to one knee in a valiant effort to stand, but she was utterly spent. Now keenly aware of the danger, the orb turned its unblinking eye to her. Vane tried to shout at her, to warn her, but it was too late. A violet blast of molten plasma erupted from the eye, hitting Rally squarely and knocking her to the ground. She lay there, lifeless, as acrid smoke streamed from her body.
In that terrible instant, Vane felt reality shatter around him. The rusting, moss-covered skeleton of the Cosmodrome melted away, scraps of burning paper on the wind. He remembered. Forgotten thoughts and lost lifetimes swirled around him, crying out in protest at this unfathomable atrocity. A man, a wife, and a little girl. Such simple perfection, now ripped away a second time by a mere machine incapable of even understanding such things. The orb dutifully scanned the area with a triangular beam of light, simply going through the motions, the crushing magnitude of its actions reduced to the cold efficiency of ones and zeroes. This could not stand. This wouldnot stand. Vane looked at the hefty revolver in his hands. For the first time in his life, he knew what he had to do.
He lifted the gun to eye level and aimed. The orb continued its scan unheeded, its perimeter shield intact and glistening like morning dew. For a brief moment, Vane felt doubt. The orb had survived Rally's onslaught, indeed had taken it in stride. What hope did he have with this crude peashooter? Its scan complete, the orb took notice of Vane at last, and fixed its cyclopic gaze upon him. Without warning, the orb emitted a shrill chirp, and its impenetrable shield flickered once, before disappearing entirely. Vane whispered silent thanks to his warlock companion and squeezed the trigger.
What happened next played out in stylized super slo-mo, the stuff of Hollywood wet dreams and the crutch of embattled writers the world over. As the first round left the muzzle in a ball of fire, Vane felt it carried with it the pain and regret of his failure to protect the one woman he ever truly loved. The heavy slug impacted with the transparent faceplate on the eye of the orb, splintering it but ricocheting harmlessly into the steel wall nearby. He fired again, this time the flaming bullet charged with the bitter loss of all he held dear, these foreign emotions mercifully stripped away as they powered the round's inexorable trajectory. The shot penetrated the previous fracture, doing minimal damage but causing the faceplate to explode in a shower of shattering fragments. Vane drew a quick breath and closed his eyes, allowing his emotions to guide him. He fired the final round, secretly praying that it found its target. The glowing projectile drew out his hope, his belief that one day things could be better than they are today, and channeled it into a weapon of incredible force. The blazing shot struck home, plowing through the unprotected eye as if it were rice paper and coursing through the complex workings within. The orb emitted a final, piercing shriek and ruptured violently, a cascade of broken instruments raining down from the sky. Sepiks Prime was no more.
Vane rushed over to Rally, kneeling over her body even as hunks of broken metal fell around him. She was unconscious, and badly burned, but alive. He didn't really believe in a deity to give thanks to, but he gave thanks just the same. At that moment, a familiar flash of purple light preceded the arrival of his mysterious friend. He looked up to see Rubik, shank still in tow but grievously injured. The Awoken was bleeding profusely from numerous wounds, and his already forlorn robes were now shredded beyond repair. Despite his appearance, Vane found himself suddenly thrilled at his arrival. "Whatever you did, man, you did good." Vane muttered, fully exhausted but grateful. He glanced down at Rally. Her scalp was completely scorched along the right side of her skull, half her hair burned away in angry welts, but thankfully her charred armor had protected the rest of her body. He glanced at Rubik and sighed when he saw the warlock shared his sense of relief. "One more thing," he quipped, "I'm not a damn penguin."
The warlock offered a hand to help Vane to his feet, smiling proudly. "No, my friend, I suppose you are not." They carried Rally for a short time as Rubik led the way. During his absence he had discovered an alternate exit, avoiding the vast debris field. The branching tunnels finally opened to a barren plain, a welcome sight after hours in the catacombs. The area was deserted, but two weather-beaten pikes sat neglected near the entrance. The weary men eyed their find. They were miles from the Tower, and it had been a very long night.
Rally slowly opened her eyes, finally roused by the wind rushing past her face. She realized she was secured at the waist to the speeding craft, and for a fleeting moment she feared she had been captured by the Fallen. She was reassured by Vane's familiar scent. It drifted back to her as he piloted the pike, unaware she had regained consciousness. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Rubik atop an identical craft, struggling to keep his eyes open after their exhausting ordeal. She smiled as she saw the little red shank, attached to the pike with a short rope tether and struggling admirably to stay aloft as it was battered by the wind. In the distance, the morning sun had just begun to peek out from behind the Tower, a perfect silhouette for its hopeful spire. She wrapped her arms around Vane, secure in his warmth as she pressed herself to his back. Realizing she was awake, he called back to her over his shoulder. "Good morning. You okay?"
She nestled in close to his neck, sheltering her raw scalp from the biting wind, and whispered in his ear a single word. "Yes."