We haven't seen battle in over four years. Even with the training, there were bound to be a few issues. An elemental marine—one of Bob's trainees specifically—melted six of his fingers off when he tried to fire his laser weapon. It jammed and overheated. He sent his complaints through Bob to The Colonel, who had a powersuit sent to him. We don't have many—he was given the elemental prototype. Painted red, equipped with a massive blowtorch, the works. Bob tried not to look as jealous as he felt. Now the marine is stomping around the station, throwing Hyperion employees into walls and setting service robots on fire. Calls the suit Flame Knuckle. He's on a complete power trip, screaming and melting the walls. I'm momentarily distracted from holding the Hub of Heroism as Flame Knuckle turns a loader bot into a melted puddle.
The Colonel's voice crackles over the radio, sharp and frantic. The signal is difficult to catch under the mess of gunfire and shouting, but it seems she's hit some resistance. The problem is, it isn't Hyperion infantry.
Corena stiffens ever so slightly as she fires. She turns and stares at me, "Did she say the heavy resistance is seven people?"
"Don't know, I didn't catch that part."
She shakes her head. "I heard something about a ship that burst through the landing bay. Maybe they called in special forces."
"Since when has Hyperion ever had special forces?" I ask, chucking my Tediore reload. It goes wide, bouncing off the wall and exploding in a trash can. I adjust to the weight as the gun digistructs in my hand.
"Since Hyperion had a space station." Corena bites back. "Keep your eyes open for a group of seven."
"Aye." I'm not worried, we haven't encountered a single person even resembling military. Some of the Hyperion employees are armed, but mostly we're dealing with turrets and other automated security. Boxer doesn't activate his Res-Gun once.
The marines, who were frothing at the bit for a real fight on the way in, are sorely disappointed. And bored. And armed. Quickly the proposed siege descends into madness, marines shooting anything that moves—even those who attempt to surrender, even each other. I try to focus on taking out the turrets with Corena and Boxer, but it's difficult to ignore the raucous laughter of the three behind us, kicking a hapless clerk into silence.
Our quest to take out the turrets leads us across the space station. Those who came before us have marked the walls with Legion slogans and warnings against opening the vaults.
We emerge into the loading bay, a docking area technically outside of the space station, but encased in a massive artificial atmosphere generator. Hyperion and their fancy toys. Escape pods try to flee, but our jets shoot them down. They tailspin back into the innards of Helios.
On the other side of the platform is The Colonel in her power suit, flanked by Bob and Best, looking like something out of a Dahl recruitment poster. The two corporals are armed to the teeth in their military green combat armor, both carrying shotguns as their primaries. Best's visor looks polished. Bob stands out in the fatigues he dyed bright red. I can feel him grinning at me when he waves us over.
Corena nudges Best's shoulder with her own, "Everything good?"
Best snorts, "I can handle myself fine," She says defensively, then caves, "But yeah, everything's good. Did you have any trouble getting in?"
While Corena and Best check in with each other, Bob claps me on the back, nearly shattering one of my relics. He inhales deeply, coming out as static through the speaker in his helmet. "Gotta love that smell. Fried air and gunpowder."
"You've been out of the field too long," I chuckle.
"Damn straight. Not that this is in the field if you get what I mean. Did you find anything other than bots and desk jockeys?"
I shake my head. Boxer tells him about the turrets.
"Colonel already shouted over the coms about it but we've been hearing about a group of seven tearing through our men. Mercenaries probably, one of them is some guy—Jack. We're thinking he's the employer, he should be wearing some Hyperion identification thing, but watch your six, copy?"
"Copy," Boxer says for me.
"I'm hoping I run into them. It'd give me something to do."
"That won't be happening," The Colonel says, turning to us. The massive arm of the powersuit nearly knocks Boxer off the platform. He jumps out of the way at the last second, taking place by my side. He stands close enough his O2 Kit bubbles around my armor.
"What?" Bob groans, "Colonel, come on."
"Some other time," She promises, "I want you inside, go capture—"
"There's Elpis," A voice says from across the platform. On the other side of the docking area stands a group of seven. They can't see us, elevated on the other side. The leader continues talking. They have to be the most ragtag group of mercs I've ever seen. Before I can get a good look at them The Colonel all but shoves us in the direction of the nearest bulkhead door.
"Go," She hisses, pounding controls into her power suit. We heed her advice, loping across the metal flooring to the door. Heavy boots reverberating against the plating. The mercenaries hear us and start shouting. And firing.
The Colonel departs in her powersuit as jets descend on the mercenaries. The jets aren't fast enough. I hear the crack of a Jakobs rifle seconds before Best trips. It depletes her shield and then some. She stumbles into Corena, who picks her up, carrying her the rest of the way as her fatigues are consumed by a growing dark stain. I turn to see the sniper chambering another round, barely noticing the woman next to her. She tips her magenta cowboy hat at me and levels her pistol. Before I can react, she fires the entire cylinder at me. My shield eats three and sputters out. The rest go through my stomach and out my back.
Pain hits me like a truck. Piercing my abdomen, swelling up my chest and down my legs. I lose my footing. Bob grabs my arm, Boxer the other. I'm venting blood like a water balloon, slipping in it, boots losing traction.
The door hisses closed behind us. Footsteps bang on a metal staircase, echoing in a high-ceilinged room. We pass by a control console. Corena shouts something. Bob's trying to get me to walk but I can't maneuver through the pain stiffening my joints. It's getting cold.
Another door opens, closes. More stomping. Another door. I open my eyes. When did I close them? We're in a smaller room. Maintenance closet, maybe. Black and red accents like the whole damn place. Black and red, who told them black and red looked any good?
There are people in here. Hyperion employees. They scream, holding each other and babbling while Bob attaches a fresh drum to his shotgun. They go down with a shot each. I'm slumped against a wall, trying not to blackout from the pain. It's a miracle I'm even standing, but at this point, I don't think I could move if I wanted to. Everything hurts.
Bob drags the two Hyperion corpses into the corner while Boxer and Corena kneel over Best. Her helmet lies discarded on the ground. She isn't moving. Corena's helmet is impassive, but her hands shake as she pulls Best's armor off. Her fatigues are sticky and dark. Corena's fumbling and shouting at Boxer to get the Res-Gun out. He keeps trying to explain that Best is gone but Corena won't listen. She slams her fist on the ground and shoves Boxer, trying to grab the device off his belt. Bob pulls her back by her armpits, dragging her off Best and away from Boxer. She howls and claws at his hands.
"Get Montauk," Bob snaps, "get your fucking heal-gun-thing and—" Corena headbutts him in the stomach, he goes down with a groan, and they both stumble back.
Boxer heads over to me, fumbling with his Res-Gun. I'm filled with a deep sense of calm and I find myself wondering if Best felt this way moments ago. If this is the reassurance of death. Boxer loses his breath when I shift my hand and a sheet of blood pours down. My legs are shaking but I can't feel them.
The Res-Gun whirs to life, an orange glow forming between the metal claws. Boxer holds it towards me as he gets closer. He's talking softly, trying to reassure me—or himself—that I'm going to be okay. It's proving difficult to focus on his voice.
Something builds inside me. Something like nothing I've ever felt before. It's the feeling I get from the relics magnified to infinitum. I stumble forward, shoving the Res-Gun away as my vision whitens until I am blinded by the glaring brightness of my own eyes. An immeasurable feeling of belonging fills the spaces between my bones. Someone screams my name.
I'm not even touching the ground anymore. My feet have risen from the floor. I know what this is. I've stood on the edge of this power for so long. The vault calls out to me and I answer, ascending.
I am, completely and inextricably, a part of the vaults. A protector.
My senses return to me. I am hovering in the air, suspended in a sphere of crackling energy. The others are pressed against the wall, shocked by what I have become. They shout at me and talk fiercely to each other. Boxer stands in the middle of it all, Res-Gun abandoned, hands hanging at his sides. He gapes up at me with an expression of unknowing. A mix of confusion and abject horror. He is scared of me.
I fall. Crumpling to my knees on the metal floor. The moment the vault's energy leaves me I am left feeling like a tank rolled over my entire body. Not physical pain, but exhaustion. Exhaustion and the horrible emptiness that eats at me without the power of the vault. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? The vault. Or whatever's inside it, or whatever it is. Some eldritch relic of a forgotten time, bleeding through me.
Bob helps me to my feet, I fumble for my shirt, feeling beyond the shredded fabric. The bullet holes are gone. Feeling returns to my limbs. I tell Bob about the missing wounds. He shakes his head and asks me if I seriously think that's the weirdest thing about this whole situation. He sits me down on the floor next to Best. Corena slips Best's helmet over her placid face, touching the visor with two fingers before making piercing and venomous eye contact with me.
"What the hell just happened."
I glance over her shoulder at Boxer, who stands watch by the door, not looking my way. He glares pointedly at nothing, muscles in his face and neck pulled taut. I don't want to slump here answering questions. I want to go to him and make this right. I can't lose him too.
"The vault," I tell her, "I don't know how, but it—I felt it. It was like it . . ." I fumble for the words, "It was reaching out to me, but I lost it."
Corena shakes her head, "Too much shit happening today," She mutters to herself. "Will you be alright?"
I shrug, eyes drifting from Boxer to Best's corpse. Corena nods in solemn understanding, crawling over to my side and leaning against the wall with me. She closes her eyes, her way of accepting my company, showing me she is comforted in my presence. We sit together in a heavy silence. Bob paces, trying to contact The Colonel on his ECHO while Boxer keeps watch.
Life just does whatever it wants with you. Best died in seconds. The Colonel is gone. We're stranded in a closet. I've just done something. And none of us have any idea what the future holds. The vigil was so planned, each day a routine. We had a mission. Now, after four years, we enter a world that has morphed and changed and left us behind. Anything could happen at any moment. We could die here, in this closet. We could never see The Colonel again. We could go down with the space station in a blazing, unstoppable, impassive show of light and the futility of human existence.
I look over at Boxer for probably the tenth time in the last five minutes. He still doesn't look my way, brooding and disturbed in his blood-splattered armor. I've seen his face countless times, I know it better than my own hands. The lines and scars in his tanned, olive skin, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes crinkle at the sides. I think back to that time in the snow, after Corena's first birthday in the vigil. He asked me to leave with him and I refused. I don't want to refuse now. I want to leave with him, and Corena, and Bob, and The Colonel, and Best. I want to take control of my life before it takes control away from me again.