Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Honor to glory
And iron to rust
Hate to bloodshed
From rise to fall
If I never have to die
Am I alive at all?

Apocalypse State of Mind – Aviators

April 22, 2871, Morning

Finally, finally, dawn came. The sky lightened, fraction by fraction, until the glow of the Traveler and the newly-risen moon paled in comparison. The occasional bold bird let out a few morning calls. The sun wasn't above the horizon, and probably wouldn't crest the mountains for another hour yet beyond that, but the world gained definition and color once obscured in darkness.

Jaren Ward's eyes were blue. His hair was a dirty blonde. His face held the barest hints of smile lines, when it wasn't screwed into a look of concentration. Azra's cloak was bloodstained now, along with the soot and dirt and ether. At least it helped her blend in. Her armor was battered to hell.

Worrying, the ground around them was trampled with obvious Fallen prints, headed in both directions. Several large groups had moved through the small valley the two Hunters now traveled. The prints were older, at least, dried in the streambed mud. Maybe that meant the Fallen had cleared out of this area. Maybe it meant that they were overdue for a run-in with a patrol. There were no other human prints.

"Let's take a rest," Jaren proposed when they came to a sheltered bend. The air was quiet, at least for the time being. The ravine they were in blocked any sound of gunfire that might come from the Wall.

"I'm fine. I can keep going," Azra protested. Only partially a lie. Her whole body ached. Her legs were unsteady beneath her. But she could muster the strength to carry on. She hadn't slept for nearly thirty-six hours at this point (not much of a feat, for Guardians), and she'd been on the move for over twenty of those. She was bone-weary. But not at her limit.

Jaren shook his head. "A break will do us both good. 'Sides, we need to figure out a plan. We're getting close."

Azra shrugged and settled down, back against a rock, SMG on her lap. Spark made short work of healing her aching calves and clearing the sleep deprivation from her eyes. Jaren Ward crouched next to her. His Ghost projected a map in the air.

"What's your Ghost's name, by the way?" Azra asked unthinkingly. A second later, she cursed her loose lips. Both the tan machine and its Guardian turned curious eyes towards her while she scrambled to backtrack. "I mean, you don't gotta tell me, it just seems a little rude to not ask after all this time."

Jaren smiled. "This is Toho," he said, "'s from this old legend 'bout a mountain lion, back in the Americas." Azra nodded at the small machine in greeting. Spark gave a friendly bob. Jaren's eyes moved to Azra's Ghost, who lingered in realspace. "Turnabout is fair play. What's your name, Little Light?"

"I am Spark," the Ghost replied.

"It's 'cause he gives static shocks when you touch his shell," Azra added.

Spark made a scandalized noise. "You said it wasn't about the shocks!"

A small smile touched Azra's lips. "I lied." She held on to the small bit of warmth the humor ignited in her chest.

Jaren snickered. "Well, it's a fine name in any case. But let's get back to it."

Azra shook her head and pulled out a bit of jerky to chew on. "Right, right. We're about… here." She pointed to the projected map. They were more west than north of the City, following the path of a streambed nearly dried up with the recent drought. "We keep heading down this river channel, we'll come out hereish."

Jaren studied the map with narrowed eyes. "Getting over the Wall isn't going to be easy, if transmat is down. Where's the Gap at?"

"Right about here." She pointed, marking a spot about a klick northeast. "But last time I was there, the Fallen were everywhere. It's gonna be real hard to get past them."

Jaren frowned thoughtfully. "Then why don't we follow the original path, and see what we can see when we get out of the woods? If we can't get over, we'll keep heading 'round 'til an opportunity arises or we can get a ping on the comms."

Azra shrugged. "Same thing works if there's too many Fallen at the Wall – we can keep to the screen of trees and circle 'till we find a weak spot. Sounds like a good a plan as any."

Of course, things didn't go as planned. Azra and Jaren got up, dusted themselves off, started down the channel, and immediately ran into a massive House of Winter party headed up the other way. No less than three Captains directed the dozens of Dregs and Vandals. Two Servitors. At least ten Shanks. There was no heavy machinery, at least.

The Fallen seemed to be just as surprised as the Hunters at running into enemy forces, but they quickly made their decision. One of the Captains warbled a battlecry and lowered his shock rifle at the pair.

Jaren drew his hand cannon, quick as thought. Azra readied the SMG-

Shiro reloaded his sidearm, then to Azra's surprise, holstered it, leaving his hands empty. The Skiffs dropped close to the ground and disgorged their cargoes of Fallen. "Stay here, hold the door, and shoot any that get close," The Exo ordered. She nodded, feeling a strange mix of terror and excitement close her throat. "Relax," he drawled, "You'll be fine."

… and after a moment's consideration, put it away. Instead, she summoned a grenade and lobbed it at the Captains. She narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth at the crowd, even as they opened fire. Energy surged in her limbs. To hell with low profiles, she decided. It was light now, she could see. She could dance.

"I call the Servitors," Jaren shouted. He was already backpedaling for cover.

"I call—" Azra began, but she choked on the rising surge of electricity in her chest. Whoops. The world shimmered. The smell of ozone filled the air.

Jaren's eyes were wild-wide. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she said raggedly. She couldn't ignore the call, now that she'd picked up the phone. "Just don't shoot me, ai'ght?" The Staff was suddenly there, electrifying in her hand. She moved.

When she came back to herself, the field was full of dead Fallen, the shattered pieces of machines, and a very surprised-looking Gunslinger. He shot the last Dregs, one-two-three, and reloaded with a flourish. "Can't say I've seen a Hunter pull that trick for a long while. Wow. Never was too good with the 'become the lightning' thing myself."

Azra leaned on her knees and tried to catch her breath. "I'm not the lightning, I'm… path. Current. Difference." Her breath reflected hot back on her face, stifling her. She pulled off her helmet. "Damn this thing."

Jaren surveyed the destruction she'd wrought and hummed to himself. "Still, pretty impressive."

"Pretty exhausting." Sure, her body felt fine once her breathing steadied and Spark cleared away her fatigue, but her mind felt frazzled and drained. "…But necessary."

Jaren's gaze moved past the bodies and down the dry stream's path. "Let's keep going. We're almost there."

"Yeah," Azra said, looking up to the pale gray sky. The rippled clouds above were beginning to show the first hints of pink. "Almost there."

April 22, 2871, Sunrise

They came to the end of cover just as the sun peeked over the mountains. The Traveler above had wrapped itself in the early morning light, shimmering in ethereal golds and pinks and oranges. The City… wasn't burning. No smoke. No fire. If the line had broken, if the Fallen had gotten in, there should have been blood and chaos even now that the sun was up. But there just… weren't any Fallen. The air was crisp and swirled slowly, like the moment after a long sigh. Silence and stillness reigned.

Jaren and Azra moved across the cleared space as furtively as they could. "Notice how all the Fallen we've seen recent have been moving back or digging in?" Jaren asked. "If they got through, they'd be swarming the place." The two Hunters' shadows were cast long behind them in the light of the new sun. They paused almost superstitiously when they reached the edge of the Walls's shadow. They looked at the now-visible gap in the structure, then at each other, then shrugged.

Jaren professed hope as they traced a path northeast towards it. "I think the line held."

At a cost, though. They had to pick their way through corpses. Jaren's feet slowed to a halt as he took in the full extent of death. The field was colorful with red, yellow, and blue Fallen garb. Interspersed were the pinks, whites, purples, and shining golds of Guardian armor. You could read the stories in the way they were scattered. Here, a Titan lay overwhelmed and buried in the bodies of a dozen Vandals. There, a Hunter and a Captain locked in final combat, each having killed the other. Scars of scorched and shocked bodies, whole fireteams dead together, and individual last stands painted an ugly picture of yesterday's battles.

Azra turned back to see why Jaren had stopped, and their eyes met. Some unidentifiable emotion – Confusion? Anguish? Rage? – clouded his expression.

"Come on," Azra said gently, "We're not there yet."

Jaren nodded and shook his head, like he could clear the smell of old blood and gunpowder from his nose, and started walking again.

Azra stubbornly ignored the flashes of maroon and swathes of black that haunted her peripheral vision. If more of her friends were dead… well-

She shook her own head and strangled that thought before it could bloom. That was not what she needed to be focusing on right now. Tomorrow would be a day of mourning and grief. Today, there was still work left to do.

The Guardian bodies thinned and the Fallen bodies increased in number as they approached the Gap. There were only a few figures upright and moving on the hill of loose stone that was all that remained of this section of the Wall. Jaren kept his hand on his Last Word. Azra shifted her grip on Adelante, finger resting lightly on the trigger.

They saw as they approached, the wall's current occupants were doing the same. They were all strangers to Azra's eyes- except for one figure. Lord Shaxx had always been easy to pick out in a crowd, with his distinctive orange-and-white color scheme and the two (admittedly cool) horns affixed to his helmet. His bombastic, gregarious nature made him a very popular figure amongst Guardians and Civilians alike. Everyone knew him, or at least knew of him. It seemed that he'd have even more claim to fame when this was said and done.

With one last sweep to confirm there were no Fallen about to shank her, Azra slung her rifle back over her shoulder. The Titans (all five of them were all Titans, she noted), relaxed marginally. They all looked harrowed. Their armor was dented, stained, scraped, torn. They leaned on stone blocks and kept their weapons ready-close. But they stood, and the City behind them was whole and gleaming still.

Lord Shaxx, for his part, was somehow cheerier than usual. "Ah, a pair of Hunters! What brings you into my office today?"

Azra looked around at the 'office'. Blocks of stone had been moved to create barricades and battlements. Rivers of ether flowed sluggishly between the chunks of rubble. The ground was choked with Fallen corpses, yet there were no Guardian dead here. Maybe they'd been moved.

"We brought news," Jaren said. The Gunslinger removed his helmet. Azra eagerly followed suit. It felt great to have the wind on her face, even if the wind was full of ether and the smell of death. "Jaren Ward," the senior hunter introduced himself. "I believe we've met before. And this here is Azra Jax."

"The young Arcstrider." Shaxx nodded in acknowledgement. "And the hero of the Panama Ravine."

Before he could get further, everyone's attention was drawn by a small avalanche of loose stone. A lone figure scrambled down the slope, dislodging rubble as they went. It was another Guardian. Not just any Guardian, but Ana Bray. Torn cloak, dirty hair, but still moving with incredible vigor and grace.

"The relay's up and running, but there's nothing coming through," she reported breathily, "which means they're not sending anything. Oh!" Finally she seemed to notice that there were two more people on their stone pile. "Hello. What have you been up to?"

"It's a long story," Jaren said.

"I'm afraid we have no contact with the Vanguard or Lord Saladin at the moment-" Shaxx started.

"Nah," said Jaren, "You seem like the person we're looking for."

April 22, 2871, 07:32

Azra sat in the cool shadow of the wall; she hadn't strength left to spend it on standing, whatever dent it did to her pride. Spark settled in the bowl of her upturned helmet beside her hand marveled at the feeling of safety. Shaxx's fireteam shared their supplies with the two travel-weary Hunters, but most of them promptly returned to their posts to keep watch. Ana retrieved a sniper rifle and took a perch herself. The way she settled in spoke of a long night.

Azra drank greedily from a fresh canteen, then passed it to Jaren. Lord Shaxx settled on a stone pile in front of her as she began her story. "Yesterday, about this time, Miles-4, the Firebreak commander, approached me and asked me to act as a forward scout for his sortie mission. I accepted. It was him, Baldr Saga, Callisto Yin, Joxer, Theus-7, and Lilavati-12. And me. We uh- went out. Wanted to clear some passes to the north."

"Where are they now?" One of the lingering Titans (who'd introduced herself as Truce Vance) asked.

Azra shrugged. "Miles is dead. Probably. Died buying us time out. The rest… well, that's-"

"-Getting ahead of yourself." Jaren reminded.

"Right. Yeah. So we set out on our sortie around 7. Went until around 1730. Cleared… Takanome and Dead River passes. Up to about five miles 'till they intersected, I-I've got a map…" Spark teleported from the helmet to her shoulder and projected the map on the ground. The aforementioned passes were lit up in red. Little blue dots showed the dismantled outposts. "We basically cleared out all of the Fallen and got rid of their artillery. Also burned down or blew up every fortification we came across. They definitely have dropped some more troops in there by now, but there are good routes, and they can't really entrench themselves anywhere 'cept for a couple of caves, and we know where those are."

Truce leaned closer and studied the projection with sharp eyes. "I wouldn't be surprised if they have mostly abandoned the area. We didn't see barely any attacks from the North last night. They could be focusing on digging in, but if there's no good places to dig in, they might have left to focus attention on the Gap."

"Which means they may have a gap in their own lines. What happened to the rest of your team?" Shaxx pressed.

Azra shifted. The stones underneath her were sharp. "Like I said, we were pulling out, 'cause the sun was setting. Uh, last thing we did was kill a heavily armored walker… right about here." She moved a pebble to the appropriate place on the map. "Ran into a Hunter fireteam of six, lead by Andal Brask. Decided to make our way out together. We were all pretty beat. We were half a klick to safe ship zone when the Fallen dropped a Walker basically on top of us. Then they pincered us from the west. Barely got out. Miles stayed behind to buy time, dropped out of comms unexpectedly so… yeah. He's gone. The others… we transmatted on the wall right about here, actually. The Titans made for that rally station to the north. That was when the artillery here was hit bad."

"And?"

"And the rest of the Hunters went south to do… I don't know what, but they sure as hell weren't running. I was up top when the wall fell, literally. Rezzed in the rubble alone. Barely made it out with my teeth unskinned. Got chased and harried and all of that 'bout nine or ten miles west of here. Ran into Jaren. Then we made our way back here. End of story."

Shaxx stroked the jaw of his helmet thoughtfully. Did he wear that thing so much that it became a natural gesture, or was he showboating? "If we decided to storm those passes, could you lead us?"

Azra considered it. Even now her legs still ached. Exhaustion and Darkness pulled on her like weights. But… "Give me a fresh rez and a thirty-minute nap, and I'll do my best. Get you out there, yes. Get you back if the Fallen decide to get stubborn… maybe. I'm on my last legs."

"Comms are up!" Spark announced. "Wait, no. Give it a minute… there. Link established." Ana cheered from her lookout spot. Spark was happy for the fresh tactical information, as bare-bones as it was. Lord Shaxx rose from his seated position.

A gruff voice sounded on the channel. The audio quality was poor, but Lord Saladin's voice was unmistakable. "Shaxx, do you copy?"

"Saladin." Was that disdain in Shaxx's voice? Or anger?

"Report in," the Iron Lord commanded.

Shaxx crossed his arms and raised his chin as if Saladin stood physically before him. "We held the line. The Fallen have retreated, for the time being. Do you plan to use this daylight to strike back, or will you continue to retreat like cowards?" Oof. It was anger. Definitely anger.

"We have troops mustered for a counterattack," Saladin ground out.

"I know where they should go." Shaxx replied.

"Then let us move," Zavala intoned. "There will be time to work out our disagreements later."

TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2];
ASSOCIATIONS: Bray, Ana; Fallen; Jax, Azra; Twilight Gap;
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

[u.1:0.1]: Hey, give me the map.

[u.2:0.1]: What?

[u.1:0.2]: You're not going back out.

[u.2:0.2]: Like hell I'm not.

[u.1:0.3]: You said so yourself, if you go out, you might not make it back.

[u.2:0.3]: You need someone who knows the terrain. The map won't be enough.

[u.1:0.4]: That's why you're going to sit on tactical and guide us.

[u.2:0.4]: It'd be better if I were out in the field-

[u.1:0.5]: No, it wouldn't. Look at yourself, you're exhausted.

[u.2:0.5]: Don't care. Last few times I stayed back, it was a mistake.

[u.1:0.6]: Seriously, I don't know why you'd pick potential death over sitting in a dry, heated room.

[u.2:0.6]: I ran, when the wall fell. I shouldn't have. You didn't. I want to make up for it.

[u.1:0.7]: Then go where we need you to be.

[u.2:0.7]: You need me to be-

[u.1:0.8]: From tactical, you can guide multiple squads. And there'd be no risk of you dying and us being without direction.

[u.1:0.9]: Look, you've been on your feet for twenty-four hours.

[u.2:0.8]: So have you.

[u.1:1.0]: I actually had a few hours' sleep yesterday morning.

[u.2:0.9]: You've been through a tougher night than I have.

[u.1:1.1]: Have I?

[u.1:1.2]: I may have faced more Fallen, but I had my fireteam with me. You were out there alone.

[u.2:1.0]: Not the whole time.

[u.1:1.3]: Tell me, how many times did you die?

[u.2:1.1]: I didn't count.

[u.1:1.4]: Eighteen for me.

[silence]

[u.2:1.2]: This isn't some sort of contest-

[u.1:1.5]: No, it's not. So listen. Nobody's questioning your dedication.

[u.2:1.3]: I know, just…

[u.1:1.6]: Back when we first met, you promised me a favor. So this is my favor: no complaining. You go back there, sit with the bigwigs, do whatever they ask. We're not going to win this if we're stumbling blind.

[u.2:1.4]: …Fine.

[u.1:1.7]: Fine?

[u.2:1.5]: You get your way.

[u.1:1.8]: You'll see. What good you can do up there.

April 22, 2871, 08:33

The temporary command center was much quieter now. It hadn't taken even half of an hour for the Guardian troops to clear out once the orders were given. Commander Osiris and Titan Vanguard Zavala went with them to direct the counterattack from the ground. Only essential personnel, the injured, and the battle-weary reserves remained. Tactical support was up to a stony Lord Saladin Forge and Hunter Vanguard Alaia Ruse, who looked like she hadn't slept in a week. (In fairness, she probably hadn't.) They were both a little surprised when a battered-looking Hunter trudged into the command center and dropped into one of the chairs.

"Oh, good," Alaia said mildly, "I can take you off the 'probably dead' list. What news you got for me?"

Azra pulled off her helmet and spat on the ground. "Put Aldur Neiss on the 'definitely dead' list. Pretty sure I saw Zyanne out there, too."

Alaia's lips pressed into a thin line at that, but she tapped at her datapad nonetheless.

"We haven't been introduced," Lord Saladin said. His helmet rested ready on the table next to him. There was also a large ax leaned against the wall that was probably his. It didn't look like something Alaia could lift, much less use effectively.

"Azra Jax. I know 'bout you, obviously." She slouched as much as humanly possible in the chair. Why did they make these things so hard?

"Alright, Azra. Why are you here?"

Spark cured the sleep from her eyes, but he couldn't wipe away the exhaustion. Azra leaned forward and set about updating their holographic map. "You're going to send teams up through Takanome and Dead River passes. I know Takanome and Dead River passes well, because I was just there half a day ago on a sortie with Miles-4." Her hands paused over the Heavy Walker site. "…Who you should also put on the 'probably dead' list. They sent me to help with tactical."

"And you just went?" Alaia Ruse asked skeptically. Her tone made it obvious even she wouldn't be here without her word keeping her bound.

"You ever try arguing with Ana Bray?"

"Fair point."

"Plus, I was out on my own all night, lucky to be alive, yadda yadda. Probably rightfully doubting my ability to survive another field mission in my state. So. Yeah."

"With Lord Saladin's approval, I can give you access to the command systems," Alaia's Ghost said.

"Very well," Saladin said, "but remember you are here in a consulting role. Leave command decisions to the Vanguard."

Azra was already scrolling through the casualty lists. "'Course." Spark quickly found the entries she was looking for. All MIA. No contact since the wall fell. Azra stared at them for a long minute, then pushed back her sense of gloom and stubbornly focused at the task on hand. The first group was already caught up on the lack-of-a-bridge on the Dead River.

"Hello there, Azra Jax speaking. You may have noticed the walkable trail of Dead River Pass cuts back and forth along the bank. The first bridge got wrecked, but there's a sand-er, gravelbar about a quarter klick upstream you can use with some Light jumping. Is the stick still there? Fantastic. Aim for that. Water's only a few inches deep there."

May 2, 2871, 17:30

Azra stared up at the statue as the Speaker gave his speech. She didn't pay much attention to the words. Something about bravery and sacrifice, yadda yadda. She'd heard it all before. They'd been talking about bravery and sacrifice constantly since the fighting stopped (as much as it ever stopped) two days ago.

The statue featured three Guardians: A Hunter, a Warlock, and standing proud and strong in the middle, a Titan. Their features were hidden behind generic armor. As the shadows cast by the wall grew longer, the lights in the sculpture began to turn on. The Hunter's gun shone a warm golden-orange. The orb in the Warlock's hands was an unearthly purple. The Titan's right fist, which was raised triumphantly in the air, glowed blue-white.

Officially the three weren't supposed to be in the likeness of any individual, only a representative of Guardians as a whole. Everyone agreed that, although it lacked the horns, the stature was clearly made in the image of Lord Shaxx. He was the hero of the day. Held the line, lead the counterattack, basically crushed the Fallen with just the sheer force of his will. Yet standing here in formation, studying the way the shifting lights played on the smooth curve of its helmet, Azra only saw Miles-4.

The base of the statue held rows of names in neat type. She couldn't read them from here, but she didn't need to. The names played constantly in her mind. Aldur Neiss, Ghost destroyed and shot by unknown Fallen. Ana Bray, by a Captain's shock blades and a tall cliff near the end of the battle. Lilavati-12, running ahead during the counterattack. Miles-4, a walker. Natasa-10. Shikoba Fen. Sigurd. Zyanne. And those were just the people she knew personally. There were dozens upon dozens of names carved into the granite, and plenty of space for more. They were still finding bodies.

Azra's eyes instead scanned the crowd around her. Guardians formed semi-orderly ranks, decked out in their finest. Obviously not all the veterans of Twilight Gap were here. A Guardian's work never ceased. Besides, they wouldn't have all fit in the plaza. Alaia Ruse had insisted Azra attend, though, since she had played a non-minor role in the course of the battle. Azra spotted Callisto Yin and Baldr Saga. They both looked… tired, but proud.

Andal's pack was notably absent, probably off busy somewhere. They'd gotten through the battle no worse for wear, long-term. The fact was a relief, but some deep part of Azra was left unsettled. It could very well have gone differently for them.

Amidst her reverie, someone pressed a gun into her hands. No, not a gun, a rocket launcher. Shining gold and silver, a feathered wolf's head. She looked up, confused, to see an Exo there (blue optics, yellow details). He was one of the several people moving down the lines, passing out… rocket launchers? "Made from the armor of those who fell," the Exo rasped.

Azra was immediately repulsed. She didn't want it. She opened her mouth to say as such, but the Exo had moved on down the line. Her fingers fidgeted on the detailing. Whose armor was this, then? It was too macabre for her tastes, wielding a weapon made from a dead person's gear. The gun was gleaming and new, like the ceremonial armor they all wore. Azra couldn't wait to get back into her dented, scratched gear. Newness felt like a farce.

She held the Gjallarhorn as the Speaker finished speaking, as the cheering and claps erupted from the civilians around them. Then, the ceremony over, she walked to her Vault, placed the weapon inside (on a stack of magazines she'd taken from a library), and did not touch it again for almost a year.