Day 1 - Ghost Stories
Put on your break lights
We're in the city of wonder
Ain't gonna play nice
Watch out, you might just go under
Better think twice
Your train of thought will be altered
So if you must falter, be wise
Disturbia – Rihanna
October 28, 2877; The Last City, Earth
It was a night of relaxed revelry. There was no special occasion- no big wins to celebrate, but no losses to mourn, either. The bar was full of people just looking to enjoy themselves in the early autumn twilight. There was a live band in the corner winding out heartfelt tunes. People lounged, drinks in hand, chatting and laughing. Above them, near the ceiling, Ghosts gathered in clusters, participating in the ever-important Ghost pastime of storytelling.
"Whose turn is it?" Pace asked. His orange shell ticked like the hands of a clock, ever impatient.
"Spark's," Thetis replied quietly.
Sundance whirred her shell and let out a small, "Booooo." She'd wanted to be next.
Spark made a noise of indignation, so she sighed and tried to explain herself. "You are not the best storyteller, dude. Listen," she said, perking up before Spark could interrupt. "You take delightful footage. That series of Eliksni pratfalls was inspired. And it's not like you and your Guardian don't go interesting places, but you always somehow manage to make the telling… flat."
"I've got a good one, this time. I promise," Spark said. "And it's spooky, so listen up."
The Ghosts all huddled a bit closer in their corner of the bar airspace.
"This happened a couple of years ago, and everything is true," Spark began, eye wide and genuine. "I have the reports to back it up. It all started when one day I got a request from a Hunter Den just west of the Appalachian Dead Zone. They'd noticed some Hive activity and thought there might be a seeder nest in a cave nearby. They wanted a professional scout to check it out.
"So we go, right? Careful-like. We poke around the cave- and a few other ones close by just to be sure, but we don't have to go deep to tell that nothing's been through there in weeks. So we send back a report to them- no signs of recent activity. The Hive must have just been moving through.
"But then three days later, we get a message back saying one of them swore they saw Hive entering that same cave the day previous. So we kit ourselves out for deep exploration and go at it."
"Did you find any Hive?" Sundance asked.
"Not… exactly," Spark said. "What we did find was…"
The crystal sprouted unnaturally from a fissure in the floor. It was entirely different from the geology of the cave- not gypsum or limestone or chert. Spark had no idea what it was, and he wasn't about to get close enough to give it a scan. It flickered with a strange yellow luminescence, casting barely enough light to see. Azra Jax leaned almost hesitantly against the cave wall, but she was caught firmly in its glow.
Spark clicked, worried. "Azra."
The Hunter only grunted in reply. She slouched and continued to shuffle her way forward. She'd slipped her sidearm into its holster several minutes ago and hadn't moved to take it out. She should be worried about the obvious Hive presence here. She wasn't, somehow. She hadn't looked away from the crystal since it had come into view.
Spark spoke a bit louder. "We have to leave."
She hummed at that one, and there was a faint tone of disapproval in her head- a half-formed No.
There was a dry, raspy chittering just at the edge of hearing. It was oppressive, like the sound of summer bugs at night. It drowned out the thoughts in Azra's head. The Hunter walked forward, feet dragging, eyes glassy.
"Azra!" Spark exclaimed.
That got no response at all.
This was bad. This was really, really bad. Clearly, there was some Hive magic present here- but Spark had never seen anything like this. And he could feel his Guardian's mind slipping further and further away, buried under the droning and the captivating Light of the crystal. The closer she got, the further under its thrall she fell.
Spark couldn't just leave to get help. Azra would be alone, at the mercy of whatever being ran this place. But every second made her death more and more certain. He couldn't leave, but they could not stay.
He was desperate. He did the only thing he could think of- if shouting didn't work, then maybe pain would. He wound himself back and, with a quick mental apology, threw himself at Azra's face. There was a visceral crunch as her nose broke.
The pain and surprise ignited her mind back into consciousness. Her hands came up automatically to cover the offended area and she glared accusingly at her Ghost. "Ow! Spark, what the hell?"
"We have to leave, now," he said urgently.
Azra took quick stock of the situation and her memories. She looked down at her feet, seeming to realize for the first time that they had been going forward without her permission. Fear cut into her, sharp as a knife. She turned and all but sprinted from the room.
The chittering was still there, though. The Hunter's footsteps faltered, slowed. Spark felt her mind begin to slip away again. "Don't listen!" he demanded. "Keep moving!"
Azra clamped her hands to the sides of her head in an attempt to block out the noise, but it itched its way up into her bones. "Don't listen don't listen don't-" she chanted to herself, taking a few more steps. The yellowish light from the crystal pulsed softly.
Her feet stilled.
"Don't… listen," she murmured. But she turned back towards the crystal anyway. It grew in brilliance, almost tauntingly. Spark noted with horror that the brighter light illuminated odd shapes scattered around the base of the crystal, bleached white with age.
Bones. And, if he was being honest with himself, probably not from a deer.
"No, no no no," Spark said. He could fix this. If he could just get a signal for transmat… but hey were too far under the surface.
"Don't…" the Hunter whispered again, eyes glazing over. Blood still dripped from her broken nose, down her chin and onto the floor. She didn't seem to notice.
Then, the Light shifted. Azra's voice dropped in pitch. "Don't," she said, in a growl this time. The shadows hissed and flickered. Relief washed through Spark. She was still in control.
Dreamlike, almost, the Hunter summoned her Bow. Usually it was a quick affair, drawing and shooting in the space of a second, but Azra held it languidly, letting pins and needles brush against her skin and silence whisper in her mind. Void-purple light competed against the yellow Hive glow.
She drew finally, sighting and loosing in one smooth movement. The Tether whistled through the air, piercing the Hive-chatter, and struck the crystal dead center.
The yellow light died and the chittering stopped. Azra blinked, stunned a bit at the sudden normalcy of the cave she found herself in.
"Let's go," Spark said, immensely relieved but not willing to take any chance by delay.
"Let's," Azra said in sharp agreement. She tripped her way out of the room and wound through the tunnels with fevered haste. There was a moment, just before she turned the last corner where sunlight would be visible, when Spark thought he could hear the chittering start back up.
But then she ducked into the last chamber and saw the day streaming in through the opening of the cave. Both Guardian and Ghost sighed in relief.
"We caved in the entrance and sent a report off to the Praxics," Spark said. "But we never got any follow-up about it."
"And the Hunter Den? The one that called you in for help?" Sundance was thoroughly engrossed in the story now.
"Well," Spark said, "we went back to give a report in person, but there was nobody home."
"You didn't leave it at that," Charin said, aghast.
"Of course not," Spark responded. "We beat the door down. But something wasn't right." He paused for a second, reveling in the undivided attention. "The place looked like it hadn't been used for months. Dust everywhere, no footprints, food gone stale in the pantry."
"They must have fallen prey to the same Hive trick," Pace suggested.
Spark twirled his shell. "But if they did, who… or what, sent us to check out the cave in the first place?"
There was a moment of silence as the Ghosts wondered at the implications.
"…I like that story," Thetis said.
"Of course you like it," Sundance grouched. "Spooky Hive shit, Nightstalker nonsense, and zero payoff."
"You liked it too," the other Ghost teased.
Day 2 - Trials
Every heart has a rhythm
Let yours beat out so loudly
That everyone can hear it
Yeah promise you don't need to hide it anymore
Oh and never be afraid of doing something different
Dare to be something more
Invisible – Hunter Hayes
TYPE: GUARDIAN CUSTOMS PROJECT
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Cayde-6 [c6]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]
ASSOCIATIONS: Cayde-6; Crucible; Jax, Azra; Larsen, Tevis; Shiro-4; Trials of Osiris
CUSTOMS ASSOCIATIONS: Debt; Pack [Hunters];
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[c6:01]: C'mon.
[aj:01]: No.
[c6:02]: C'moooooon.
[aj:02]: Saying it longer won't change the answer, Cayde.
[beat]
[c6:03]: C'moooooooooooooooooooooooooo-
[aj:03]: No. What on Earth made you look at a high-end, competitive Crucible tournament and think I would be a good fit?
[c6:04]: Well, Shiro's busy.
[aj:04]: So am I.
[c6:05]: No you're not. I know you're not. No strikes, no patrol rotations. I checked.
[aj:05]: Maybe I was planning on doing some personal work.
[c6:06]: Personal work like helping your 'ol buddy Cayde-
[aj:06]: Lose a Crucible tournament?
[c6:07]: We're not gonna lose.
[aj:07]: That's not true. You've fought with me in the Crucible before.
[c6:08]: But this isn't regular Crucible. It's a series of fast elimination rounds against a single opposing team. Focusing on strategy, teamwork, flexibility. All of your strengths.
[aj:08]: It's still Crucible.
[c6:09]: It's brand-new, nobody has learned the arenas yet. Another advantage on your pile.
[aj:09]: There are probably a hundred other Hunters you could pull for this one, any one of them eager to get in on this.
[c6:10]: Yeah, but none of them are Pack. It won't be as fun without you.
[aj:10]: *sigh*
[c6:11]: Plus, you owe me.
[aj:11]: That I do.
[c6:12]: I'll buy you dinner.
[aj:12]: Mmmmmmmm-
[c6:13]: You'll get first pick of the slots for next patrol cycle.
[aj:13]: Alright. Just don't get mad at me when we absolutely suck.
TYPE: GUARDIAN CUSTOMS PROJECT
PARTIES: Four [4]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Cayde-6 [c6]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Tevis Larsen [tl] One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]; One [1] Ghost-type, designate Spark [s]
ASSOCIATIONS: Brother Vance; Cayde-6; Crucible; Jax, Azra; Larsen, Tevis; Sulla; Trials of Osiris
CUSTOMS ASSOCIATIONS: Arcstriders [Hunters]; Bladedancers [Hunters]; Classless; Nightstalkers [Hunters]; Pack [Hunters]; Sunbreakers [Titans];
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[c6:01]: Well, at least we didn't absolutely suck.
[tl:01]: We didn't have a chance to suck.
[aj:01]: Listen, all they asked was my Class and the element I'd be running. I didn't think it mattered-
[c6:02]: I'd like to believe that your Arc is so glorious, you managed to short out the entire Lighthouse.
[aj:02]: I crashed the tournament program, Cayde.
[c6:03]: By pulling your glorious Arc Staff. It counts.
[s:01]: Announcement: Brother Vance is in on his ruling. He says you'll have to switch your subclass or you'll be automatically disqualified.
[c6:04]: What? That's bullshit.
[tl:02]: If they can't patch the software fast, what else can they do?
[aj:03]: It's fine. I'll just run Nightstalker, I guess.
[tl:03]: A Gunslinger and two Nightstalkers? Isn't that a bit unbalanced?
[aj:04]: Well I can't Bladedance. Believe me, I've tried. So unless you've got some other bright idea…
[silence]
[c6:05]: Bullshit. I'm still calling bullshit.
[tl:04]: This isn't worth the grief. Let's just pull out.
[aj:05]: No.
[c6:06]: No shame in it. You didn't sign up for this.
[aj:06]: I'm going to run Nightstalker, we're going win, and then we're going to win eight more times just so I can go rub it in Vance's dumb fanboy face.
[tl:05]: I wonder if any Sunbreakers have tried. If the error is from outmoded Crucible tech, it'd probably throw a fit up at them, too.
[c6:07]: Oooh. You've got that Sunbreaker on your fireteam, right Azra? What if we threw you and her in here together-
[tl:06]: There are some old-timers around who still won't settle into the Class structure. I could probably convince a few of them to have a go. Wonder if the system would be okay with them throwing Nova Bombs and putting up Barricades.
[c6:08]: Think we could sneak Lord Saladin's axe in here?
[aj:07]: Alright, let's stop plotting the utter destruction of the Trials's software and start plotting the destruction of the other team.
[c6:09]: Just saying. We could make Vance's life a living hell if we wanted to.
Day 3 - O Captain, My Captain
When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things
I see the familiar
I was little, I was weak, I was perfect, too
Now I'm a broken mirror
But I can't let you see all that I have to lose
All I've lost in the fight to protect it
I can't let you in, I swore never again
I can't afford to let myself be blindsided
Eight – Sleeping At Last
Records of the Vanguard, PB-2957-07-12 66
AJ: Shouldn't we be focused on, you know, retaking the City?
Z: I thought you would be glad to take on this mission.
AJ: No no, don't get me wrong, this sort of thing is exactly my jam, it's just…
AJ: As a recap: Sylas and Veera are off killing Thumos the Unbroken and stealing his ship so we can get to the Almighty in once piece. Half of the other Hunters are shadowjacking ways through the Wall. Everyone is gathering weapons and supplies for our assault. And you're sending me off to Titan to steal a methane reactor for the Rig?
AJ: Doesn't that seem a little… perpendicular?
Z: Without the power that reactor provides, we cannot hold the Rig through our attempt to retake the City. This is a mission to ensure our future. And it is extremely time-sensitive.
AJ: Fine, fine. I'll trust you to know where I'm best used.
AJ: Though maybe I shouldn't.
Z: Excuse me?
AJ: I shouldn't have waited for you to call me in when the Tower was attacked. I should have made for that capitol ship as soon as I saw it.
Z: Perhaps. But if Veera could not stop the Traveler from being caged, what could you have done?
AJ: More. We could have done more together.
AJ: But I still do trust you, at least more than anyone else right now. I'll get your methane reactor.
AJ: Just some food for thought.
July 12, 2957; Siren's Watch, Titan
The wind and rain never really stopped on Titan. Even though Azra's gear was mostly waterproof, she still felt like a bedraggled cat as she dripped her way into Sloane's makeshift office. The Titan didn't seem to mind her dampness, at least. (Perhaps being wet was just a fact of life here?)
"The Fallen routinely invade and ransack different parts of the Arcology," Sloane reported, getting right down to business. "They take whatever supplies and tech they can, but they usually leave once we start pressing them. This intel comes from a standard patrol sent to scare them out of the command center." The Titan picked a datapad off of her desk and handed it over to Azra. "The Fallen were digging up information this time. Looking over what they copied, it seems there's a very powerful methane reactor deep in the Arcology."
"Thing like that could power a Ketch," Azra mused. She tabbed through the intel, taking note of the supposed location of the reactor. They'd have to manually deactivate some safety systems to even get into the power center, but once they did...
"Or it could finally solve our energy crisis," Sloane remarked. "The wave-generators aren't running at full capacity and we don't have the bodies or resources available to keep fixing them. With this reactor, we'll finally be in the green. It'll free up a lot of hands."
"The Fallen are going to be gunning for this, too," Azra pointed out. "I know some shortcuts around here, but it's not going to be enough to get me there first."
Sloane grinned and grossed her arms. "That's why we're sending you, Mz. Light-bearer. Do you think you can take on a Captain and his crew?"
"I've fought Kells," Azra said, handing back the pad. "A Captain's just a warm-up."
Azra's worries about timing were unfounded; the Captain had leveled the playing field for her. She jogged into the reactor's main control room to find him and his crew trapped in one of the many Golden-Age security checkpoints. Their glowing eyes peered out at her through the purpleish forcefield.
"Look who it is," Spark teased. "Did somebody forget to disable the security systems?"
"Don't taunt the Fallen," Azra chided (though she couldn't keep the humor hidden from her voice). It was kind of funny to have sprinted all the way here, only to find her enemies stuck in a box. The Fallen glared daggers at her as she crossed the room.
"Give me a second and I'll have this booted," Spark said. "Then we go and grab the reactor. Easy as cake."
"You say that like there's not half of a swarm of Hive between us and the reactor room."
"Shh. I'm trying to concentrate."
Azra obligingly shut her mouth. The Fallen watched her and chittered amongst themselves. She locked eyes with the Captain, who growled a curse at her. She did her best to approximate a rude Eliksni gesture with only two arms.
Spark swore, and suddenly the platform Azra stood on was surrounded by a forcefield. Worse- the one trapping the Fallen crew winked out. Now their positions were reversed.
Azra's Staff snapped into existence with barely a thought. She lashed out at the glowing cage around her. It didn't even flicker. She knew this type- high-end tech for dangerous areas. Neither guns nor force nor electricity could penetrate it. You had to disarm them from a command terminal or damage the emitters- and anything big enough to touch those through their shielding would probably send the ceiling down on her.
To her horror, the Fallen leapt out of their prison and moved to surround her. She held the Staff two-handed and set herself in a defensive stance. "Shouldn't have taunted the Fallen," Azra muttered.
Spark hid himself from realspace and whispered an apology in her mind. Booting the reactor without permission automatically triggers the security system. I tried to bypass, but the only thing I could do was set it to time out.
How long? Azra asked. The Vandals were gleefully arranging themselves in a circle around her.
Three minutes, Spark said glumly.
Three minutes was not that long. Azra desperately swept the room, trying to make a plan. The Captain stood several meters back, eyeing her cautiously.
The situation was very bad. The forcefield would turn bullets and knives for now, but as soon as it went she was a goner. If she cast a Tether or a grenade, the Vandals would be stunned but the Captain would be able to pick her off with its Wire Rifle. If she targeted the Captain first, she'd end up impaled on about six different Shock Blades. She was dead either way.
I'll stay out of sight until they're gone, Spark said.
Might not work, Azra said. The reports had mentioned them taking bodies as trophies. If they drag me back into some lair-
I'll wait to rez you until its safe.
Nobody's going to come dig us out of a Fallen nest. Not now, not without their Light.
Let me take your armor so they can't steal it. We'll have to fight out way out.
Try to get a message to Sloane-
The Captain interrupted her thoughts. "Come," it garbled in Eliksni. "We waste our time."
"It is trapped," a Vandal protested.
"I do not know for how long the force-cage will last," the Captain said. "If we leave now, we could get to the electricity-generator and take it before the Guardian even gets free."
The Vandal was not convinced. "We could kill this one. It is alone."
"It is not defenseless." The Captain stowed its Wire Rifle and walked briskly towards the door. "Our first objective is the generator. Come. That is an order."
The Fallen crew hissed insults and curses at her, but ultimately scuttled to follow their Captain. Azra didn't drop her Arc Staff until the door closed behind them.
When she did so, she did it with a sigh of relief.
Azra found herself sprinting through the Arcology again. She wasn't sure she would get to the reactor before the Fallen made off with it. She could run faster than them and they would be slowed down fighting the Hive, but the Captain had more marbles in his head than the average Fallen. He'd stretched his three-minute headstart considerably by locking nearly every door and tripping every security system he came across on his way to the reactor. Azra could shortcut her way past some of them, but not all.
When she finally caught up, she incredibly frustrated and wheezing for air. The Fallen had cleared out the Hive from this section of the Arcology, but it had cost them dearly. Azra picked her way among the bodies. She relaxed a fraction and paused to catch her breath at the threshold of the last room. The reactor was still there.
And so was the Captain. He was locked in combat with a Hive Knight, Sword against Shock Blade. There were a few bodies of Dregs and Acolytes tossed about, all still in death. The Captain and the Knight circled each other, alone, wounded, lashing out erratically.
Azra had a choice: deal with the Fallen first, or the Hive?
Easy choice. Azra aimed Adelante at the Knight and shot. It provided enough of a distraction that the Captain got a good hit in, then Azra emptied the rest of her magazine into the Hive soldier. She swung the Scout Rifle back and pulled her Mythoclast before the Knight had even hit the floor, ready to take the Captain.
He turned to face her, blades raised. She aimed down her sights.
The Guardian aimed at Misraaks and Misraaks saw his death. He froze. The Guardian was far out of reach of his Shock Blades, staring down the sights of an oddly-shaped but no doubt very deadly gun. He was a few trigger pulls away from the end.
But the Guardian froze, too. Misraaks didn't know why. It had him dead to rights.
Then it shifted, repositioning the gun against its shoulder. Misraaks had a moment to appreciate the weapon of his soon-to-be demise. He hadn't seen anything like its make before- dull bronze with strangely bulbous curves. It fit the Guardian perfectly.
The Guardian hesitated again, then made a rumbling sound in its throat and spoke.
Misraaks was stunned. Out of the Guardian's mouth came a familiar cadence. It Eliksni: stilted, warped, but perfectly understandable and grammatically correct. With a Devils accent to boot. He was so surprised he almost didn't pay attention to the words being said.
"That electricity-generator belongs to my House. Not yours."
Why was it bothering to speak?
"If I shoot, you die, yes?" The Guardian lowered its gun slightly, at the ready but no longer aiming at Misraaks. "But if you leave, I will have no reason to shoot. I seek the generator, not you."
"You allow me to leave?" Misraaks asked.
"…You did not shoot me first," the Guardian pointed out.
Misraaks made a grumble of confusion. The Guardian tilted its head to the side. "When I was in the force-cage. You had me surrounded. You left and allowed me to live."
"We could not have killed you," Misraaks said. "You are a Guardian."
The Guardian remained silent. It shifted the grip on its gun again, tellingly defensive. Misraaks did not know much of Guardians beyond the violence. They usually acted as if their temporary death was no more than a hinderance. This one's hesitation said something else.
"The choice is still to be made," the Guardian growled. "Make it, or I will make it for you, yes?" Its grip on the gun tightened in warning.
Misraaks was very confused. But he took a second to re-consider the context of this situation. Whatever motive the Guardian had, a moment ago he had been a dead Eliksni walking. Now he was not. If the Guardian was planning to shoot him in the back as he ran, it would certainly shoot him anyway if he did not leave.
He decided to take the out. He saluted with his blades with his upper arms, touching the controls for his transmat with the lower.
"Honor to House Dusk," he growled.
"Honor from House Deathless," came the traditional reply.
And oh. Misraaks had heard of House Deathless. Everyone had. It was small, even for Guardian houses, with only three active members, but they were all legendary. He was sure this one was Human, not Exo, which meant Misraaks knew its name.
"Aasra Chaks," he grumbled in his best approximation of Human speech.
"Mercy for mercy, Misraaks" it said back. How did- he hadn't said his name. How did the Guardian know it? "But my patience wears thin." The Guardian's grip on its rifle shifted again.
He should take his life and be grateful for it. He pressed the button that initiated his teleport, locking eyes with the Guardian's blank-faced visor until it took affect.
Call_2 Transcript 288
Azra Jax: His transponder id him as Misraaks of House Dusk. I didn't recognize the name.
Shiro-4: Misraaks, Misraaks, and a Captain, you said?
AJ: Yeah. Too big to have been just a Vandal before the Red War.
S4: I'm not showing anything in my database. Though I can hardly claim to know the name of every Captain in the system.
AJ: He was oddly… reasonable. I got stuck in a forcecage, and his crew was already surrounding me when he called them off. They all left.
S4: Focused, then. Most Fallen would throw their prizes to the wind for the chance of killing a Guardian. But he left you trapped and got a headstart. Smart.
AJ: Annoyingly so. Tripped just about every security system on his way through, locked all the doors. Got some brains in his head, this one. Made my life hell trying to just catch up with him.
AJ: Meant he got to the reactor before me, but there was some Hive resistance- he was squaring off against a Knight when I rolled in.
S4: You shot the Knight first?
AJ: Yeah. Then he just kind of… stood there. Though I did have him in a bad position.
AJ: I just told him to leave. He seemed pretty confused about it but he came to his senses.
S4: I'll remember the name. It's ones like him you have to keep an eye on.
AJ: Yeah. He knew my name.
S4: Troubling.
AJ: I can't say I'm good enough with people- or Fallen, for that matter- to make a judge of character after only a few minutes.
AJ: But like I said, he seemed reasonable. You run across him…
AJ: Maybe try reasoning first.
S4: Maybe.
S4: It'd save on ammo, at least.
Day 4 - As The Crow Flies
Tell me once again
I could have been anyone, anyone else
Before you made the choice for me
My feet knew the path
We walked in the dark, in the dark
I never gave a single thought
To where it might lead
The Moon Will Sing – The Crane Wives
Uldren wonders sometimes what it would be like to be a Guardian.
Not aloud, at least not often. But Jolyon has learned to listen for that occasional musing. It's ironic, coming from him. They will be holed up in a secure position, observing the Vanguard forces as they clash with the Fallen or watching in disbelief as a single Guardian routes a swarm of Hive, and for a moment, Uldren's petty frustration will give way to a brief glimpse of wonder.
A Guardian will leap gracefully over a Scorch Cannon shot, flinging a knife in the same motion, and Uldren's breath will catch when the knife hits a Servitor, bulls-eye, at the exact same moment that Guardian's feet touch the ground. Or one of them will toss aside their weapon and catch a chunk of falling stone, feet sliding, roaring in defiance, and the Prince's grip on his rifle won't loosen until the Guardian heaves the weight away.
Jolyon sees there is a magic about them, and not just the literal sun-blinding, death-creeping, thunder-shocking power they wield. The dust will settle on the battlefield and on the corpses of those slain, there will be a moment of quiet, and then several of those corpses will suddenly stand back up, laughing and joking with each other, clasping hands like they hadn't just been dead. There is something special in that, he thinks. Something just more real in a mind that can look at the world knowing what it is to die. In a body that can be wielded with precision because it has been pushed past its limits.
But Guardians aren't the only place he sees that magic. It's there in that impossibly heavy moment between when Uldren says 'send it' and when Jolyon pulls the trigger. It's in that keen way Uldren interacts with his Crows, both machine and person, charisma and hunger and a knowing that surpasses physical perception. It is there as Uldren pilots his ship, Jolyon one length behind and to his left, weaving in between enemy Skiffs and screaming in exhilaration as missiles and wire discharges miss them from all sides.
So, really, what makes a Guardian different?
It can't be the immortality- for hasn't Uldren lived longer than any Guardian to date? Any Human in existence, in fact? He has the honor of being one of the eight hundred ninety one, the first to Awake in the Distributary, living centuries upon millennia in the heart of a hidden singularity. Uldren will never die from old age. Neither will Jolyon.
It can't be the recklessness. Uldren is just as careless, sometimes. It's always him that comes up with the crazy plans. Always Uldren coming home with interesting stories and a few more scars. Jolyon tags along not necessarily because he enjoys the thrills, but because he is scared what Uldren will get himself into if he isn't there to watch his back. He tests himself by what he can survive, while Guardians whet their edges on death and close calls. Jolyon, frankly, doesn't see the difference.
For all the public perceptions of Guardian fearlessness, Jolyon knows there is a lie hidden in their bravado. He is a Crow, a scout and a stealth combatant. He has seen more than most. He has seen Guardians, centuries old, surely having died thousands of times, still with a shout or a gasp when a new end comes for them. He has seen those living stand anxious guard over the bodies of their allies, waiting for a new beginning, and in that anxiety he knows the next life is never guaranteed.
So if it is not immortality- for Awoken do not age and Guardians, though they can bounce back from much, are not invincible- and it is not the recklessness, and it is not the carelessness or violence-mindedness (for all one can point towards trends, the traits are clearly not universal), what really is it that makes Uldren (or Jolyon, for that matter) different from a Guardian? What is it that captivates Uldren's attention so, private admiration serving as shame-filled fuel to his public disdain?
There is debate, among those who concern themselves with Guardian business, as to why Guardians are not Risen remembering their past lives. Some camps are cynical, citing the malleability of blank slates, how easy it is to deceive and shape someone when you inform their whole worldview. Others think the Risen dead have nothing to remember in the first place- they are merely constructed souls inhabiting convenient corpses.
But Jolyon thinks something different. He thinks maybe that un-knowing is a gift. And it's because of this: the thing that Guardians have, that they wear proudly, that Uldren lacks:
It's freedom.
And Uldren isn't imprisoned or under strict orders; in fact he sees a great deal of discretion and lenience. But he is connected, tethered. He loves his sister so dearly, treasures his people. He is driven by a need to help them, to make them proud, and sometimes it is clear sometimes when that drive only serves to bridle him. Uldren is at his worst when he is trying to please his sister. The most self-doubting, taking the most risks, acting with his heart instead of his head.
So as Uldren wonders what it would be like to be a Guardian, Jolyon wonders, too. How his Prince would live, free to act without ties to bind him down. If that eager-to-please attitude were met with praise and acceptance instead of cool glances and concealed frustration. Would it fuel an ego like the ones Uldren loves to complain about? Or would he be finally free to act selflessly, uncompelled by the worries of outside interests?
Jolyon doesn't want to know the answer. He wouldn't dare trade Uldren as he knows him for some same-faced stranger, however they might turn out. Uldren is a light in the dark, a cool patch of shade. He serves his people well. He is a pillar of their society. Every day Jolyon stands beside him is a blessing, every night spent sleeping next to him, a treasure.
But he wonders.
Day 5 - Wrath
And the chaos returned, I backed into the trees
Left my guns on the ground, wiped the mud from my knees
And I knew in my heart that my old life was gone
That in walking away, my name was undone
So I might as well run
The Deserter's Song – Radical Face
September 03, 2958; Braytech Futurescape, Hellas Basin, Mars
Azra was annoyed but feeling indulgent that day. Normally the activity of 'meeting people' was not high up on her list of things she wanted to do, but Veera had done a lot to hype up this introduction. She was unusually excited and her enthusiasm was, admittedly, contagious.
The weather was absolutely brutal. The Martian icecaps were shifting, exposing new geography daily. Most of it was just frozen, barren wastes. Even the parts that did have interesting leftovers from the Golden Age (Azra gave the labs and warehouses they passed a wary scrutinizing) were still beset by heavy winds and freezing temperatures.
Azra turned up the temperature on her climate control yet again and let the exasperated fondness bleed into her voice. "Who is this mysterious person we're going to see? And why are we trekking through barely-unfrozen Hellas Basin instead of calling them on the radio?"
"I think you know them," Veera said. "You tell stories." The wind gusted, tugging at the Warlock's robes and spidering wisps of snow and sand across the ground.
"Well either speed up or explain yourself," Azra complained. "I don't know where we're going."
"We are almost there," Veera assured. Indeed, the Warlock was already making a beeline for the main entrance to one of the buildings. Azra followed close behind, careful on the ice-caked stairs.
Both Guardians had to take off their helmets and shrug open their coats as they entered the climate-controlled space. It was surprisingly clean inside but not necessarily organized. Piles of computer junk lay everywhere. Azra made out the distant sound of running water- either this place had a fancy indoor fountain, or there was a leak. The building was certainly old enough. Even Golden Age technology fell apart eventually.
Azra gave a skeptical look to the Braytech logo adorning the wall but nevertheless followed Veera up the stairs, towards a slim figure tapping away at a command terminal.
"Ana!" Veera exclaimed. "I have brought a friend!"
Azra stopped dead in her tracks as the figure turned- yes, unmistakably, that was Ana Bray. Ana Bray. The last time Azra had seen her in person was late in the Battle of Twilight Gap- two days, in fact, before Ana had died. Azra had seen the footage a dozen times- a Captain swiping his blades through a misplaced Ghost, then shoving its Guardian off the edge of the battlements.
Azra's eyes flicked up to the familiar (and notably not sliced-in-half) Ghost that floated a few feet away, then back to Ana Bray's semi-surprised face.
Azra felt oddly calm. Her face was numb. She reached down, casually pulled out her Sidearm, and shot Ana twice in the head. It was a neat, professional kill. The Gunslinger had no time to react, not even time to feel pain as she fell to the floor, limp and lifeless.
"Azra!" Veera shouted. "What in the Traveler's name-" Ana's Ghost Jinju whizzed over, giving Azra a side eye as he worked to raise his Guardian.
Azra took the last few strides to Ana's corpse and looked down at it. The face was the same, the tattoos, the Light- hell, she was even wearing the same cloak. Azra nudged her leg and admitted that this was, indeed, the real body of Ana Bray. Which would soon cease being a body and return to being the living Guardian herself.
Ana Bray was alive. Ana Bray had not died in Twilight Gap.
And there was the anger. Where the fuck had she been all of these years? It's not like she could have gotten lost- she'd been right there on the Wall. She hadn't left a note or anything. She'd just up and left-
There was the telltale flash and Ana hefted herself to her feet. Azra spat on the ground in front of her in disgust.
"I am so sorry," Veera said, grabbing Azra's arm as if to hold her back. "Azra, you know better than to shoot people-"
"I know better than to fake my death for eighty years," Azra growled.
"Ah," the other Hunter said, sounding guilty. "Still… upset about that, aren't you?"
"Upset!" Azra barked. "You've been alive all this time? What were you doing? Where the hell have you been?"
"I couldn't do what I needed to do as Guardian Ana Bray," the Hunter shot back. "I couldn't be that person anymore, I needed to be someone else. The Vanguard was never happy with me investigating my past-"
"Do you think I would have told on you?" Azra asked. "Me? Or Cayde or Andal… gods, Ana, they mourned you when you were gone! I mourned you."
"You barely knew me," Ana said. "Two years old and green as grass-"
"You," Azra growled, lips pulled back in a snarl.
"This isn't some sort of contest-" Azra started.
Ana interrupted. "No, it's not." There was a gleam in her eye, an eagerness to be at the conclusion she'd led Azra to. "So listen. Nobody's questioning your dedication."
Nobody but Azra herself. She deflated a bit. "I know, just…" she wanted to do something. To be worth the sacrifice Miles had made, to be worth Jaren's guidance. She'd done nothing worthwhile the whole night.
"Back when we first met, you promised me a favor," Ana reminded her. "So this is my favor: no complaining. You sit with the bigwigs, do whatever they ask." Her voice was surprisingly soft. "We're not going to win this if we're stumbling blind."
Ana Bray was using her favor to make Azra do the right thing. To keep Azra safe? To help the Vanguard? She should have been using that to coerce Azra into helping with a prank or pulling a double patrol rotation. Not for this selfless and thoughtful sense of duty.
Azra wasn't one to take the easy way out, but she did admit that she owed a debt. Ana's eyes were resolute. She crossed her arms stubbornly, like she was daring Azra to argue further.
"…Fine."
But she looked at Ana and the anger just went out of her. Only bitterness was left. "You… I looked up to you. You showed me what it meant to be a Guardian," she muttered. "You were always so… cool, so confident. And you showed me how… to pay attention to what other people needed from me. That it was important. And then you died. Just like Miles-4 did. And Sigurd did. And so many people, all just gone. You couldn't have left a note?"
"I'm… sorry." Ana said. "Geez, it just was… this was more important. Me dying didn't change much. I knew all of you would survive it… and you have. Look at you."
"Just because I lived through it didn't mean it didn't hurt," Azra said accusingly. "You should have told them, if you didn't tell me. You know they would have taken it to the grave."
"I needed space," Ana said. "I haven't been hunting this whole time. The first few decades- I had no way to know what was happening. I was in the Outer System. Nobody cares if you use a fake name there. I needed time to think, to find… some kind of peace. And by the time I came back, Andal was the Vanguard and you were dead yourself-"
Azra flinched at that and felt Veera's grip tighten sympathetically on her arm. "That wasn't the same situation," she muttered.
Ana shrugged. "It had the same effect in the end."
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," Azra shouted. "I tried. So hard. Every second of eternity. It's not my fault I was gone so long." Her face was red in fury. "Not my fault. But you-"
Azra cut herself off suddenly, face pulling into a stony mask. "I… will regret this later," she said. She stood stiffly. "I need time… to think about this. I can't help you today. I'm sorry."
Veera did not like the formal tone she used- Azra only brought it out in moments of emotional duress. The Arcstrider turned, yanking her arm out of Veera's hand, and stalked out. She left through the front door, not even pausing to do up her gear or put back on her helmet. The wind outside picked up, tossing clouds of snow that quickly obscured her from view.
"I have never seen her that angry," Veera commented. "You hit quite a nerve." She hadn't expected this surprise meeting to result in gunshots and angry yelling.
"Twilight Gap was hard on her," Ana murmured. "She was so young. It was bad enough for me, and I've seen a lot of friends go over the years. She was just learning to believe in people and they died on her." She sighed. "I guess that's one more person to throw on the 'hates me' pile."
"She will come around," Veera assured. "Those last remarks were not smart, perhaps. The Vault… can be a touchy subject. She says she is over it, but it is clear she still carries guilt for what happened."
"Think she'll tell anybody? Should I prepare for more… visitors?"
"I think… even if she is angry, she will keep the secret," Veera said. "For the most part. She may tell her Pack."
"Shiro-4 has a cool head," Ana commented. "I can talk things out with him. I guess next time I connect to the network I'll have an inbox full of angry voicemails from Cayde…" she shook her head. "Larsen's the one I gotta worry about. He might be okay with it, but if he's not…" she shuddered at some imagined horror. "He gets scary sometimes."
"Larsen," Veera said slowly. "As in Tevis Larsen?"
"Yeah?" Ana half-asked. "What about him?"
Veera didn't know how she should break the news- had they been close? Had they hated each other? She settled on an apologetic tone. "Do not worry about what he will think. He is dead."
"No," Ana said in disbelief. "For how long?"
"Four years, I do believe?"
"Damn," Ana swore. "Guess… I've missed out on more than I thought."
There was a long pause. There was an odd expression on Ana's face- part regret, part anger. Veera let the silence stretch, not wanting to interrupt.
Then the Gunslinger sighed and straightened her back. "We'll… worry about that later. Right now, there's still about seventy memory banks we need to check."
"Alright," Veera said. "If… when," she corrected, "Azra is ready to talk, I will bring her back."
