Fireteam Lazarus

"Are you sure it's not just a malfunction?"

"My sensors aren't wrong, okay? They say they detected movement, so they detected movement."

"That cave was marked as 'clear' by Orron. I don't think he would lie."

"Maybe they're back, I don't know. Regardless, something tripped them." The reedy voice of Tel, the Warlock on the fireteam, stopped for a minute, as if he was catching his breath. "We should go check it out. Just to be safe. It's at least something to do, right?"

Markos grunted his assent. He was tired of sitting around.

When Lazarus had been asked to watch Rasputin, Markos had accepted the orders with gusto. A chance for his fireteam to prove itself, protecting one of the most sensitive secrets in the galaxy. What had promised to be a prestige-enhancing tour of duty had instead turned into another boring slog, like any other patrol assignment. Occasional Cabal incursions, a stray Hive Knight or two, and an utterly silent Warmind looming over them all.

Markos didn't want to admit it, but he was happy when Tel had reported in that his motion sensors had been tripped. Ever cautious, the Warlock had set them up deep in the caves pockmarking the Hellas Basin. The team's Hunter, an Exo named Emilie, had objected, claiming it was "cheap". Emilie was ever more wild than your average Hunter, preferring long sojourns into the wild, ostensibly to "get in touch with her Light." Markos knew it was really just to kill things.

The massive Titan pulled on his helmet. He didn't grab a weapon. Markos didn't use weapons. He made a fist with his enhanced gauntlets, feeling the drivers in the armored wrist and knuckle tighten, and then loosen, as he unclenched his hand. Markos' armor was a marriage of technology and Light, one of the finest close-combat sets ever made, or so Banshee-44 assured him. Markos chose to believe him. He felt better that way. As he strode out of the rusting hall the fireteam had chosen as a forward operating position, he raised Emilie on the com.

"Emilie, meet me at the entrance to the cave Tel was talking about. We got a ping."

"Probably just another Cabal scout force."

"Probably. Come anyway."

Markos knew from the silence that met him that the Hunter assented. He started off on the long trek through the snow and red dust-covered ruins of the Clovis Bray facility. The skies were quiet; the Cabal dropships had slowed in regularity recently. Markos had intended to write a brief on it, but decided against it as soon as he opened his portable word processor. Too much work, and not even the soul-crushing boredom of this assignment could force the Titan to present a formal report to Zavala, or Ikora.

The cave entrance appeared, a jagged hole in an otherwise seamless red cliff. Emilie was already there, leaning on the mouth. Her scout rifle was cradled in her arms, her hood down and cloak flapping nonchalantly in the breeze.

"You're slow, Markos."

He just shook his head.

"Sorry I was actually guarding the Warmind like we were assigned." Emilie fell in behind him as he entered the cave.

"Did you know there's a crashed Reef jumpship here?" Emilie's almost-natural voice echoed off the cavern walls as they walked.

"Huh?"

"Interesting, right? I couldn't get a closer look, but…"

They passed in silence for a few minutes before Markos opened up the fireteam com channel.

"Tel, we're coming up on the triggered beacon. Where are you?"

There was an acute silence.

"Tel?"

Still, nothing. Something was wrong, and Markos could feel it. They entered a large cavern, the intersection of several tunnels. The beacon was here all right, and-...

"Guardian. Markos. There's...I can't revive you hear. The Darkness is overwhelming. I think it's Vex tech, but...be careful." Markos' Ghost suddenly spoke up.

"Vex tech? That doesn't make any sense, Dmi."

"I don't know what else to say, Markos."

Markos shook his head. "Try not to die," he said jokingly to Emilie, who didn't smile at his comment. Markos walked forward to the beacon, which was blinking.

"Hello, Guardians."

The voice that called out was smooth, calm, implacable. Markos couldn't place the speaker's location, or who it was. He saw glowing eyes emerge from one of the caves - and the unmistakable outline of a handcannon. Markos switched to fighting posture, heard Emilie flip the safety off of her scout rifle. The figure stayed obscured in the shadow.

"Who is that?" Markos tried to sound official, but knew he probably just sounded stupid.

"Someone better than you." The speaker's words were dripping with arrogance, behind every syllable.

"Better tha-...what do you want?"

"I want justice."

"Where's Tel? Where's our Warlock?"

"Elsewhere, I'm afraid."

Markos was in the middle of formulating an answer when there was a flash followed by a violent report. He knew that sound - he turned, eyes wide, and saw Emilie's faceplate slide away in a molten heap. Her eyes flickered, and she for a moment it looked like she might try to say something. Then she crumpled, and her eyes dimmed.

The hot rage built fast. Markos willed his light to build as he let out a mighty yell, charging forward at the shadowy figure. He braced himself for a hand cannon round to the chest, but instead Markos saw the flash of metal - a knife.

"COWARD!" Markos swung his fist in a wide arc at what he presumed to be the figure's head. Gracefully, his opponent dodged, and the Titan saw a bright flash heading towards his back. He jerked his forearm up, caught it, then jabbed with his left hand. Again, the figure danced out of the way. Markos reset himself and watched carefully as the man opposite him stood, silently.

He was wearing a cloak, that much he could make out. From his glowing eyes, he could surmise his opponent was an Awoken - and a skilled one at that. A spy? An assassin? It didn't matter. Let the City handle the diplomacy. Markos just wanted to avenge his fireteam.

He rushed at the figure, who stepped into the glow of the beacon briefly before dashing to the side. He saw the flash of the knife again, but was too slow to stop it. A sharp pain ripped into his side, made him see white for a minute. Markos grunted and shook it off. He swung blindly with his left fist, and surprised himself when he made contact. He heard a sharp intake of breath, the crunch of something breaking in his opposite.

"Don't like fighting like a man, huh? You prefer sneaking around in the shadows like a...like damned weakling?"

"I prefer winning," his opponent hissed back. Markos saw the man sweep low, dodged towards the side - and saw the blade of the knife again caught in the beacon's light. An exploratory jab towards the rapidly-shifting shadow of the figure didn't connect and then the Titan felt another hot, searing pain followed by the unmistakable burning of a stab wound.

"You're losing a lot of blood, Guardian. I can't revive-..."

"I know, Dmi." His Ghost's fussing wouldn't help now. Still, never before had the Titan felt so...mortal. Whoever he was fighting, he was good. Very good.

Markos staggered back towards the light of the beacon in the center of the room, still blinking. His fists were raised defensively, Light surging in his gauntlets. He could see the elusive, shadowy figure edging around the room, and the Titan followed his every movement. There were no more words to say - Markos knew he had to end this, and soon. The shadow briefly moved away from the cavern wall, and he took his chance. Roaring again, he charged forward, Light pulsing through his whole body, ready to unleash it and avenge his friends, and then -... a white pain across his whole back that practically blinded him. He grunted, a choked sound, then fell forward, catching himself on his knees. He felt the figure behind him, and slowly turned to face him, aware of his own life slowly draining from his body.

The figure was in the light now, and Markos could see he had been right. An Awoken. Not just any Awoken - Prince Uldren. His mouth was curled into a sneer.

"I would say that I'm sorry, Titan, but...I'd be lying."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you already. I want justice."

"This isn't justice, this is murder."

The Prince shrugged.

"You have to start somewhere."

Markos could feel his breath coming short and heavy. Ghost was saying something to him, but he blocked him out. He raised his helmeted gaze to the Prince, whose knife was covered in Markos' own blood.

"Finish it."

The Prince chuckled, an utterly humorless sound.

"Finish it? No, no, no no. You'll die here, Titan, laying in a pool of your own blood, mortal at last."

Uldren turned around, his cloak swishing.

"It's not so easy when you're just like the rest of us, is it?" As his consciousness faded, Markos swore that he heard the Prince's voice soften.

"Not all of us have the luxury of being able to bring those we care about back."

OOC: And I'm back! The main story is gonna start to pick up now. Uldren's Vex tech is going to be an important part of the plot moving forward, so expect more of an explanation on how it works later.