"Hey, Kendrix! Come here a minute, would you?"
Kendrix winced as he heard his name loudly called across the Tower's platform. He'd made it back just a few minutes ago, right before sunset. He and Proxima had left Nova to rest in the hangar like the night before. The flight home hadn't yielded any new ideas about how to proceed following the revelation of Nova's alien status, and the day of fruitless searching had left them all exhausted, so they'd decided to sleep on the information. Proxima hoped Nova's processor would recover more data during the night, so they could better evaluate their options in the morning.
Kendrix had simply hoped that his new armor would let him avoid notice, its bright colors and haphazard design counterintuitively allowing him to blend in with the wild variety of the other Guardians. Evidently, those hopes were going unfulfilled.
Kendrix looked over to where the voice had come from, seeing Beckett-5 waving him over towards one of the stalls. He considered acting like he hadn't heard the Exo, and making a run for the elevators, but a stern presence in his head pushed him towards the other Guardian. So he gave Beckett a loose wave in reply and reluctantly walked over.
As he got closer, Kendrix realized that Beckett wasn't alone. The other Exo from the bounty board- Trinity, if Kendrix remembered right- was standing next to him. And a little further off was yet another Exo, one Kendrix didn't recognize, who was standing behind the stall's counter.
"Good to see you alive and well, soldier." Beckett said as Kendrix stopped in front of the trio of mechanical humans. "How's the second day been?"
Kendrix shrugged. "Not too bad, I guess? Just went on patrol for a while. Fought some Fallen. Got a Sparrow."
Beckett nodded his casual approval. "Good. Pretty productive, for a newbie."
A small but pointed cough flashed from Becket's right side as he finished commenting on Kendrix's activities.
"Oh, right. Uh, Trinity, this is Kendrix, that new Guardian I was telling you about. Kendrix, this is Trinity-3, a friend and fireteammate of mine."
The other Exo held out a hand, which Kendrix hastily moved to shake.
"Pleased to meet you, Archon-slayer," she said with a glowing purple smile. "You've caused quite the stir around here."
For what felt like the hundredth time since his resurrection the day before, Kendrix was extremely glad he'd opted to keep his helmet on in public, as he felt a blush of discomfort creep up his face at the foreign title.
"Uh, yeah, didn't mean to. Sorry." Trinity laughed.
"Don't be. Riksis was a monster, even by Fallen standards. You did the world a favor by taking him out of it."
"Here here," Beckett added with a nod.
"Ah. Uh... thank you, then? I guess?"
Trinity laughed again.
"You're a bit of an awkward one, huh? I take it from the robes you're a Warlock like me?"
"Uh, yeah," Kendrix replied, feeling his blush deepen under his tinted faceplate. "So I'm told, anyway."
"Well, don't worry, then. Most of our kind don't love social interaction either. You'll fit right in."
Kendrix couldn't decide whether that statement was comforting or not, so he just gave a small nod in reply. Then another thought crossed his mind.
"Actually, that reminds me," he said aloud, turning back to Beckett. "How'd you recognize me? Thought for sure the new look would've helped me lay low."
The Exo's white, metallic face shook slightly, and his mouth flashed yellow as he let out a soft chuckle.
"Don't worry. Most folks wouldn't be able to pick you out from any other Guardian. I've just got a bit of a trained eye for this sort of thing. You might dress like a veteran, but you still walk like a newbie. Deer-in-headlights sort of thing. It'll go away after a while, when you get more used to the Tower and the world in general. The other dead giveaway is the robes."
"What? What's wrong with them?" Kendrix said as he hurriedly looked down at his gear, suddenly very self-conscious.
"Nothing," Beckett assured him. "In fact, it's a pretty solid look. Your Ghost did a good job."
I like this guy. He's got good taste.
"It's the symbols that give you away." Beckett continued, gesturing to the sharp white designs tracing over the tail of Kendrix's robe. "Those are Fallen religious glyphs, decorating Devil colors. And, well, there aren't exactly many Guardians running around wearing the cloak of a Devil Archon on their shoulders."
Kendrix sent a mental scowl in Proxima's direction for dressing him up in the cloak of a dead priest, but the little light flickering around his subconscious just twinkled mirthfully at him.
"...I see. I didn't know they meant anything. I'll have to get them taken off."
Beckett shrugged.
"Don't worry about it. Like it or not, people are probably gonna think of you as 'the guy who killed Riksis' for a long time. Might as well own it."
"Speaking of," Trinity said, drawing Kendrix's attention back to her. "How'd you pull it off, anyway? Not saying I don't believe you, but it must've been a helluva challenge to take him down on your first day. I'd imagine it's quite the story."
Kendrix shrugged awkwardly, trying not to let the sudden tension gripping his mind show in his posture.
"Uh, it wasn't much, really… kept my distance, put a few rounds in him… and he went down. Just got lucky, I guess."
You're a terrible liar.
Not helping!
Trinity scoffed.
"That's all there was to it, huh?" Kendrix nodded. "Yeah, that's not gonna last."
"Sorry...?" Kendrix asked, terror suddenly replaced by confusion.
"That story's not gonna fly. There are very few things all Guardians have in common, but pretty much all of them are gossips. A few Hunters trading drinks around a fire can whip up a better tall tale than any Axis mind could ever hope to match. By the end of the night, word on the street will say you slayed Riksis mere minutes after crossing back to the land of the living, with nothing but a welding torch and a handful of rusty screws, or some other exaggerated bullshit. I guarantee it."
"Trin's right," Beckett said matter-of-factly. "The longer you go without getting your story out there, the more of it people will have written for you. Your reputation will be built on rumor and half-truths without the slightest regard for your opinion on the matter."
"That doesn't sound good," Kendrix said in a half-groan. This was giving him a headache. Beckett just shrugged.
"Not necessarily. Having that mystique about you can be useful in the right circumstances. But you don't strike me as the sort of man who wants that kind of attention."
"Nope," Kendrix sighed.
For a moment, there was silence, though Beckett quickly broke it.
"Well, no point worrying about that right now. I see you're still running that autorifle. Any interest in branching out?" Kendrix glanced at the weapon hanging over his shoulder and shrugged.
"It's worked fine so far, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to take an extra along?"
Beckett nodded, then turned to his left.
"Hey, Banshee, got any kit for our new recruit here?"
Kendrix followed Beckett's eyes to the third Exo, the one standing behind the stall's counter. Kendrix had practically forgot the blue and yellow robot was even there, as he'd done nothing but clean and adjust the rifle in his hands since the new Warlock had arrived."
"Maybe," the Exo responded in a gravely, metallic voice, glancing up at Kendrix with piercing blue lights. Kendrix resisted the urge to pull back; the Exo's appraising gaze felt surprisingly uncanny, as if it lacked just the lightest extra edge of humanity present in Beckett and Trinity's speech. After a moment, 'Banshee' nodded and turned behind him, where he began rummaging around the various cases and displays arrayed within the stall's corner of the platform. After a moment he returned, and layed four guns out on the counter.
"Take your pick," he muttered gruffly, glancing at Kendrix once again. Not at all hesitant to break the unnerving man's gaze, Kendrix looked down at the weapons presented before him. He didn't know much about guns, he found, so he had to take his best guess at each one's function. The first three looked like rifles of some kind, with the first looking fairly similar to the auto rifle on his back. Deciding he should try something different, as that was the whole point of the exercise, he elected to ignore that one. As he passed the auto rifle over, the fourth gun caught his eye. It was much smaller than the others, little more than a grip and a barrel. It looked like a pistol, though it was a lot bulkier than he remembered those being. It struck him as something simple and plain, more like a self-defense tool than anything else. He decided he liked that, and picked it up.
It was heavier than he expected, but not unwieldy. Banshee looked at him holding it and nodded.
"Duke, Mk. 10. A good sidearm. Would make a nice complement to that Khvostov on your back."
"I'll take it."
Banshee nodded, then handed Kendrix a holster for the gun, which he quickly clipped onto his ammo belt. The Exo gunsmith then returned the other three weapons to their proper places, and went back to tending to his wares.
"Enjoy the freebie," Beckett said sagely as Kendrix slid the Duke into its holster. "Even if the Vanguard could afford to just hand out guns willy-nilly, Bashnee wouldn't be the type to do that. You want more from him in the future, you'll either have to pay in glimmer or complete missions to prove you can put it to good use."
"I'll keep that in mind," Kendrix assured him. He found it a little strange how Beckett spoke as if Banshee wasn't even there, but given the Gunsmith's highly reserved personality, he wouldn't be surprised if Banshee never even participated in a conversation that wasn't about a sale.
Their conversation was interrupted as a loud, lone voice broke across the platform.
"Yo, Beck! What's the hold up?"
The three Guardians all turned to look in the direction of the shout simultaneously. Striding towards them with a look of vague annoyance plastered across his was a somewhat short human Guardian with a bright orange cloak and brighter blue hair. After a moment Kendrix realized he recognized him, as the individual who was asking the bounty tracker about Riksis that morning.
"Apollo," Becket said with a casual smile, greeting the other Guardian as he arrived. "We were just showing Kendrix here around a little."
"Dude, I've been waiting for you guys for like, ten minutes and-" The Guardian froze mid-sentence, his eyes suddenly snapping to Beckett. "Wait, did you say Kendrix?"
"Uh, yeah, that's me," Kendrix supplied, giving a small wave. The Guardian's eyes shot over to him, and he swore there was fire in them.
"You're Kendrix? As in, the newbie who killed a Fallen Archon Kendrix?"
"Apollo…" Beckett growled, the note of warning unmistakeable in his voice.
Apollo's hand shot forward, grabbing Kendrix by the collar and yanking his head down.
"You stole my kill, greenie," he said, his voice filled with accusation and venom.
Kendrix froze. He felt paracausal force flush into his palms, almost on instinct, building up to defend itself and its wielder.
A metallic hand closed Apollo's shoulder, and Kendrix could see a single glowing, yellow eye glaring over it.
"Drop it, Apollo. Now." Beckett said in a voice harder than the metal that spoke it. "Or do I need to tell Cayde you're acting up again?"
Kendrix saw the fire in Apollo's eyes collapse into fear in an instant. The grip on his collar vanished, and after a second, the other Guardian stepped away, shaking off Becket's hand as he did so.
"I'm sick of waiting. I'll see you guys at the party," he growled. Then, after shooting one last dirty glance at Kendrix, Apollo stalked off in the direction of the hangar.
Once he was sure the other Guardian was out of earshot, Kendrix spoke up.
"Why do you guys put up with him?" he asked with a hint of anger in his voice.
Beckett sighed, pressing his hand against his forehead for a moment.
"I apologize for Apollo's behavior. He's only been with the Tower for about three years. He's still young, still trying to find his place in all this. It's our responsibility as veterans to help him on that journey, help him grow into the kind of Guardian humanity needs, and the one that he needs. If we gave up on every new light that proved difficult or flawed, the City would've been destroyed years ago."
"Plus, much as it pains me to admit, he's a pretty good shot," Trinity added with a grin. Beckett let out a tired chuckle.
"True." He raised his face to look at Kendrix again. "We're going to hit up a bar in the City. Good food, better drink. You should come."
Kendrix glanced out off the platform, at the sea of warm lights that had sprung up as twilight descended, and the giant shape that loomed above them all. It was warm and foreboding and mysterious all at once, the Last City. The City he was supposed to protect.
"Thanks for the offer, but… I think I just want to go lie down. It's been a long day. Besides, I'm not sure I want to see how Apollo reacts to me when he's not sober."
The last part got a laugh out of Trinity, which made Kendrix smile. Beckett just nodded.
"Well, enjoy your night then, Kendrix. Before you go, though…"
Beckett quickly typed in some sort of command on a device bound around his wrist. A moment later, Kendrix saw a ping on his HUD. It was some sort of message notification.
"Just sent you my comms data," Beckett explained. "Let me know if you need anything,"
"Thanks," Kendrix said with a smile and a nod. Beckett returned the both of them, then gave a small salute.
"See you around, newbie," Trinity said with a wave. Then the two of them went walking off towards the hangar.
Kendrix woke up the next morning to the sound of a high-pitched ding echoing inside his head over Proxima's comms.
"Message from Beckett," she said aloud as he felt her flash into existence next to his head. Kendrix rolled away from her with a groan, screwing his eyes shut tight.
"What time is it?" he muttered.
"He says he's taking a crew out for a strike against the Fallen. You should go."
"Why should I do that?"
"Because," Proxima said with a touch of irritation, "in case you've forgotten, you're an immortal undead warrior, and now other immortal undead warriors are trying to be your friends and help you figure this all out. And you're not gonna have many alternatives for company as the centuries roll by, so you should meet them halfway. Spending eternity alone isn't fun." Her voice quieted then, almost a whisper. "Trust me, I know."
Kendrix let out a low sigh.
"Alright, your guilt trip worked. I'll go."
"Excellent," Proxima said brightly with a twirl of her fins. "The fireteam leaves in fifteen minutes."
Kendrix let out another groan.
Kendrix stepped out of the elevator's doors onto the platform ten minutes later. Having showered quickly and wolfed down a nutrient block Proxima had provided for him, he felt marginally more ready to face the day.
That readiness vanished when he saw who was waiting.
Apollo was standing at the railing of the platform, staring out at the freshly risen sun. A few paces behind him stood Beckett, Wayland, and another Guardian he didn't recognize. She was taller and bulkier than Beckett, matched in height only by Wayland's beanpole stature. Beckett caught Kendrix's eye and waved him over. As he approached, he got a better look at the new face. She wore thick, heavy armor that was a pastel of purple and gold, giving off a more knightly aura than Beckett's tank-like armor. Her skin was blue like Wayland's, though a much darker shade, and her eyes were filled with different constellations. Her scalp was completely clean-shaven, instead covered by a mosaic of silver and violet tattoos.
"Kendrix," Beckett said with a smile as he approached. "Glad you could make it. You remember Wayland?"
Kendrix nodded at the tall, cloaked man, getting little more than a somewhat friendly stare in return.
"And this is Oroa," Beckett continued, gesturing to his other companion. Kendrix craned his neck up to meet the smiling face of the muscular woman, faintly wondering if all of her and Wayland's people were so tall, or if it was just coincidence.
"It is my great pleasure to meet you, Kendrix young-light!" Oroa exclaimed in a smooth accent he didn't recognize, grasping his hand and vigorously shaking it. "It will be a great honor to fight alongside you!"
"It's nice to meet you too, Oroa," Kendrix replied, trying his best to cover his wincing with a smile as pain laced up his arm. Thankfully, she released her grip a moment later and he felt blood return to his hand. Oroa then raised her eyes and quickly glanced around the platform.
"Where is Trinity? I am eager to get our adventure under way!" she called out in a tone that was half sing-song and half war drum.
"Present..." cried out a hollow, pained voice. Kendrix glanced over to spy Trinity's metallic form shuffling towards them from the direction of the hangar, holding her head with a hand.
"It'll never stop surprising me just how hungover a robot can get," Apollo said with a chuckle, grinning snidely as the Exo reached them.
"Wonders of Braytech never cease," Trinity muttered halfheartedly, refusing to rise to the bait.
"I told you you should've stopped after four," Beckett chided, though there was a hint of humor in his voice.
"Yeah, yeah. Can we kindly get on with this?"
"Very well," Beckett said, turning to face them all. "Last night, we received reports of numerous hotspots of activity across the Cosmodrome. The Devils are restless. Best guess is Riksis' death left a power vacuum, and now every Archon-wannabe is scrambling to build up enough resources and followers to take a shot at the empty throne."
Kendrix took a sideways glance at Apollo when Riksis' name was spoken, but the other Guardian didn't seem to react.
"Our job," Beckett continued, "is to do what we can to keep that from happening. We've gotten rough locations on three major players, so we'll be splitting up into teams of two to attack them each simultaneously."
"If they're so eager to kill each other over Riksis' position, why not just let them?" Apollo asked, his voice sounding simultaneously bored and curious.
"Good question," Beckett said, nodding to Apollo. "We're trying this because taking out the other candidates will cause even more infighting. If every dreg thinks it has a shot at priesthood, they'll tear each other apart to get it. Additionally, if we give each of them time to build up more resources before they make a move, then whoever comes out on top will have a huge stockpile to work off of when they make their next move against us. Any other questions?"
Apollo shook his head, seemingly satisfied. When no one else spoke up, Beckett continued.
"Alright. Wayland and Trinity, pair up. Oroa, you take Kendrix. Apollo, you're with me. I've sent coordinates to each of your Ghosts. Go there, see what you can find, and kill what you do. If you get in over your heads, retreat and rendezvous with one of the other pairs. This mission isn't worth losing one of our own. Play it smart, and hopefully I'll see you all back here in a few hours. Let's go."
With that, the Guardians paired off as Beckett instructed, and began walking towards the hangar.
"This is very exciting, yes?' Oroa said as she fell in beside Kendrix, her massive strides easily outpacing his own.
"I guess so," he replied, hurrying to match her giant gait.
"We will do great battle together, and bring much honor to ourselves and our people!"
"Yeah," Kendrix said uncertainly. He didn't really see the honor in instigating a massive civil war among members of a clan after murdering their religious leader. Then again, if the rest of the Devils were as bad as Riksis…
He split off from Oroa when they reached the hangar, heading to his own ship as she went to hers. Proxima transmatted him into the pilot seat, startling Nova out of his stasis. The machine let out a low, almost groggy-sounding whistle of indignation.
"Morning bud," Kendrix said with a smile. "Sorry for the scare. I know it's early, but you mind giving us a lift? We're gonna help some other Guardians stop a few Fallen."
Nova let out another whistle, this one much more energetic. He seemed excited at the prospect of going flying again.
"Alright then," Kendrix said. "Proxima, you got Beckett's coordinates?"
"Sending them now," she replied over comms. Nova beeped to confirm he'd received them, then activated his thrusters. They soared out of the hangar and into the blue, early-morning sky. After a few moments, another ship fell into formation beside them, a sharp, three-winged fighter colored purple and gold.
"You fly very well for one so young!" Oroa's ever-excited voice crackled over the comms, putting her ship through a roll as if in greeting. "Perhaps you were a pilot in another life."
"Thank you," Kendrix replied, trying not to sound suspicious. He elected not to comment on the pilot part. They exchanged phrases like this now and then throughout the flight, but most of the audio connection was filled with Oroa's cries and whoops of joy as she put her ship through series after series of complex, artful maneuvers. Nova seemingly got swept up in her enthusiasm, pulling his own tricks out for the world to see. Unfortunately, Kendrix had to ask the robot to tone it back after a triple barrel-roll nearly pulled his stomach out through his throat.
They arrived at Becket's coordinates after about fifteen minutes of these antics, at which point even Oroa sobered up somewhat. As they neared hotspot location, the ships slowed and pulled into steep dives. Just before reaching the ground, Kendrix felt himself disappear, reforming on the rusted Earth where he stumbled before catching himself.
"Alright Nova, stay up in the atmosphere so the Fallen don't get any ideas, but be ready to come right back down. If things go south, we'll need you to get us out. Got it?" Nova replied with a confirmatory whir before pulling back up into the clouds.
Oroa appeared in a flash next to Kendrix, landing with more grace than he expected. She grinned at him, then started to walk forward. The two of them reached the top of a ridge right in front of them, crouching to avoid the notice of potential scouts. As it turned out, their caution was warranted. Standing in the small valley on the far side of the ridge were a pair of Fallen vandals, seemingly keeping watch, outside of the ancient rusted wreck of an unidentifiable building. As Kendrix watched, at least a half dozen dregs scurried about, moving in and out of the wreckage. And those were only the ones he could see.
He turned to Oroa, and started to speak. "So, what's the-"
"FOR THE CITY!"
Oroa's battle cry roared across the silent tundra of rust and snow, shattering whatever tense calm had held dominion mere moments before. She fell like a thunderbolt, sending up a cloud of frost as she slammed to her feet in front of the vandals. One of them cried out and fired upon her, but she slammed it with a first full of violet force, disintegrating the four-armed alien in seconds. Its partner dodged backwards, hissing, as dozens of blue bolts began pelting Oroa from various gaps in the building.
"Shit," Kendrix muttered. He rushed down the face of the ridge, lobbing his grenade at the face of the building. It exploded in a vortex of void, creating a roar that was half the screams of its flames and half the screams of its victims. A number of the enemy guns fell silent, but the barrage kept coming.
Oroa growled in pain as the bolts struck her again and again, tossing her own grenade at the remaining vandal. The creature howled in fear, scuttling inside to escape the impending explosion, releasing too late that the grenade had magnetized to its armor.
As the second explosion pulsed inside the building, Oroa's Ghost dropped a weapon into her hands out of transmat. Six barrels coiled together began to spin and roar as the minigun released a storm of burning incendiary bullets that tore through metal and flesh alike. Kendrix rushed to Oroa's side, haphazardly firing with his Duke at whatever Fallen miraculously survived Oroa's onslaught and still dared to fire back. The two of them pushed forward, and only when they had made it inside the building did Oroa cease her fire. The minigun vanished, replaced by a heavy shotgun which made a click like a gunshot itself when she chambered a round.
"Now we push inward," she said with gleeful certainty. "The leader will be at the center."
Kendrix could do nothing but nod, both awed and terrified. He stuck close behind her as she led the way, keeping an eye on their flanks and rear. Occasionally, they came across a dreg or vandal, neither of which could put up much of a fight before they were put down by a closed first or a hand cannon round. One vandal even had some sort of cloaking device, and managed to sink a long electric blade into Oroa's leg before she backhanded its head off its shoulders with a void-filled fist. They stopped to rest for a moment then, while Oroa's Ghost healed her wound and restored her shield.
That's when the attack came.
A screaming ball of fire ripped through the wall to their right, striking Oroa full in the chest and forcing her to the ground. The blast threw Kendrix ten feet back down the hallway, knocking the air from his lungs as he smacked against the ground. Dazed, he struggled back to his feet, and watched in dim horror as something crawled out of the hole the fireball had left.
It was bigger than a captain, but not so big as Riksis had been. Its arms twisted and contorted into uncanny shapes as it forced its way through the gap it had made. White symbols flashed against a crimson cloak, the same glyphs that adorned his own robes. A massive cannon fell from its shoulders, still burning, as it freed all four of its hands and closed them around Oroa's neck. She had been gasping horrible sounds as she lay half-dead in the dust, but the sudden silence as the creature reached for her end was somehow even worse.
Kendrix stood, slowly, blood pounding in his ears, time slowing to a death-crawl. He watched as the creature hunched over the Guardian, watched as its fanged mandibles whispered a quiet prayer in a language he could not comprehend, watched as its cold, blue eyes gleamed with malice and love, and as the eyes of the Guardian shone with fear and pain.
Something in Kendrix shifted. Like a ball rolling down a hill, or an electron moving into a lower energy level. Potential became motion, motion became force, and force became death. A grenade coalesced in his palm, but it was different, wild, like an explosion compressed rather than a bomb to be lit, thrashing against his grip. His jaw tightened, as did his fist. He crushed the grenade in his hand, felt energy shatter, then race into his fingertips, coldly burning vein and nerve alike. His feet pushed off the ground, raising him upward and forward towards the object of his judgement. He pushed his hand forward, splaying his fingers to the face of the Archon-to-be as it turned to gaze upon its destroyer.
And the Void gazed back.
A sound like shattered night shook the building around them, as the Fallen Devil snapped back through spacetime and cratered into the concrete surface at the end of the hall. It hung there, held aloft by the shattered stone it had been impressed into. Kendrix stared at it for a infinitesimal moment, waiting for a twitch of the hand, a glow of the eye. But nothing came.
A shallow gasp dragged him back from the brink. Kendrix's head whipped around to see Oroa lying where the creature had left her, burning and bleeding and dying.
"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh-"
"Snap out of it."
Kendrix blinked as Proxima's single blue eye glared into his own.
"Get her sitting up while I help her Ghost fix this."
Kendrix nodded desperately, then rushed to pull Oroa into a sitting position. She screamed, a piercing, haunting thing, devoid of the jovial soul that had accompanied him to this place. He held her there as she gasped and groaned, the weight of her thick armor and muscular body feeling strangely light in his hands as the Ghosts worked their miracles.
A minute or two later, Oroa was able to stand again, though Kendrix still held her up in case her mind failed her. A minute after that, she could walk, and they moved back the way they had come. If any Fallen remained, they made no move against them. They came out into the crisp, cold air, two jumpships hovering in wait. A flash of light, then another, and the Guardians were gone, leaving behind this place on metal wings.
Leaving behind the Archon-to-be, a violet handprint still burning in his chest.