Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
For your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll Never Walk Alone – Carousel
August 09, 2877; Crew's Camp, Loch Ryan, Old Scotland, Earth
Azra is shaken awake roughly. She reaches for her knife for a moment before realizing that the person doing the shaking is Shiro.
"Gear up," the Exo orders. "We're heading out. Distress signal popped off not two hundred klicks from here."
Azra gets to her feet groggily, a bit of adrenaline giving her enough energy to shake off the urge to go back to sleep. It's still dark out, very early in the morning. The stars are blocked by clouds- the only sources of light are the dim coals of the fire and a camp lantern someone has set on an ammo crate. The scene has a weird dreamlike quality as her half-conscious mind tries to make sense out of what it's been given. The night air is startlingly cold and the strange light isn't making any of this seem more real.
Muscle memory keeps her from just standing there- Shiro's businesslike urgency has instilled a need for action in her. Andal and Tevis are already up, strapping on armor and talking in low voices. Azra notes the level of gear they are putting on, the rocket launcher Andal has leaned against a nearby tree, and knows it is serious. She begins her own preparations as Shiro moves on to rouse Cayde.
Armor, first. There isn't time for anything fancy. She slips into a fresh base layer and begins hastily throwing on her strike gear. Legs first, then the vest. Tighten the laces on the boots and tuck the loose ends inside. Gloves, then the armguards over top, while Spark sorts out what guns and holsters will be necessary. Tighten any straps, make sure everything fits snug, then settle the cloak on top of all. The helmet stays in storage until it's go time- instead Azra spends a few seconds arranging her knives and guns so that everything sits easy.
Cayde is the last one, grumbling as he gets his own gear in order. It's not the first time an emergency call has come in during the middle of the night like this. All of their usual pre-mission routines are thrown out the window. There's no time for any kind of breakfast- Azra sips on some water as Andal gives a debrief.
"Something bad is going down near Old Dublin," the Gunslinger announces. "I don't know too many details, but it seems a House of Wolves contingent has caught a research party unawares. The emergency ping says they've been trapped in an old library with at least a hundred Fallen outside screamin' for blood."
"A hundred?" Tevis says. "That's not a 'contingent', that's an army."
Andal shrugs. "Whatever it is the Fallen want, that research party isn't making it out of there, not alive."
"Not without help," Shiro vows.
Andal picks up his rocket launcher. "We'll talk strategy on the way over. No time for subtlety on this one- we take a Jumpship, get in there fast, get out fast."
"I'll drive," Shiro offers, already holding a hand out for his Ghost.
Azra stands, stretching the last of the sleep-stiffness from her muscles. It's kind of funny, she thinks to herself. It's not even a question that they're going to go throw themselves at a Fallen army. Someone needs help so they're going, just like that. Not even a second was taken to weigh odds and rewards. The ping goes out and they're all hauling their butts up at two thirty am, skipping breakfast and throwing on armor so hasty half of Cayde's buckles are still unfastened.
It gives her a warm moment of pride before Andal's call cuts through her thoughts. Let's get moving, Spark urges.