Day 11 - Lost and Found
Like children in the dark
When they've wandered out too far
We'll wish we never left our home
Like children in the dark
We'll lay beneath the stars
At least we'll finally know that if we have to be
We don't have to be alone
Children in the Dark – Tristam
April 13, 2763; Kaunas Exclusion Zone, Earth
Mud squelched annoyingly under Andal's boots. It caked his kneepads and coated the hem of his cloak. Between the mud and the chill and the dull, cloud-gray sky, Andal (for once) was eager to finish his job and get back to the City. Spring could be pleasant in some places, but it was downright dismal here.
He supposed every season would be dismal here. The landscape was gray and scarred. The earth was cracked, old trees shredded and tossed aside like toothpicks. Tangles of razor wire and rebar littered the area. "If anywhere can be described as war-torn," Andal remarked to his Ghost as they wound their way through the wreckage, "this is it."
He wouldn't normally venture into a place like this. Everything was burned. There was moss, some sickly-looking grasses, even a few twisted shrubs, but no animals to feed on them or use them for cover. It wasn't as bad as the Manhattan Nuclear Zone, but the radioactivity would still give anything visiting here a severe case of cancer. Lucky, Andal was a Guardian and couldn't get cancer. His prey (Alchis, an extremely bothersome Wolf Captain), either had radiation-shielded gear or was very desperate indeed to get Andal off her tail.
Besides the radioactivity, the exclusion zone really gave her no advantages. The terrain was one of desolation. There were no structures left standing. One might seek refuge in the piles of rubble or in the unnatural-looking gouges in the Earth, but there was nothing here worth searching through. Between the general waste laid and the radioactivity, Andal would be surprised if there was twenty thousand Glimmer's worth of salvageable materials in the entire blast zone.
And the blast zone was almost four thousand square kilometers.
"They really knew how to make bombs in the Golden Age," Charin noted as she scanned another pile of wreckage. "I sure hope we know what we're doing. Comms are completely gone now."
"Trail's clear," Andal said, gesturing to the Fallen prints on the ground. "Let's hurry up and finish this." Charin clicked in agreement and zoomed on ahead.
They continued on for a few hours, Andal lightly jogging, following the trail of Fallen claw-prints while Charin flitted back and forth scanning interesting bits of burnt wood or piles of stone. Andal figured he couldn't be more than half an hour behind his quarry when Charin called out for him to stop.
"There's something over here," the Ghost announced, alarmed. She whizzed over from the rock tumble she had been scanning and hid superstitiously behind her Guardian. Andal rolled his eyes and moved to investigate. He kept one hand on his Cannon and the other on his knife, ready to kill in a second if whatever it was turned out to be hostile.
It was not hostile. He peered into the gloom beneath an upturned slab and a pair of cerulean lights blinked back at him. "Hullo," Andal said, surprised to see another person in the wastes (much less find one taking a nap in a pile of rocks).
A series of groans and swears emanated from the cramped space. Andal took a few steps backwards to give the person room. With a great deal of shuffling and banging, a horned Exo pulled himself into the open and heaved himself to his feet.
He was dirty. Really dirty. Andal could hardly make out the blue finish to his body under all of the muck. The Exo made a show of dusting off his pants and straightening his cape, but it was clear he couldn't do much for his general appearance.
"Fancy meeting someone like you in a place like this," the Exo drawled. He stuck out a hand nonchalantly. "Name's Cayde-6."
"Andal Brask," the other Guardian answered, taking the handshake. "What are you doing out here?"
"Oh, you know," the Exo said nonchalantly. "Hunting for loot. Shooting some Fallen."
Andal sized him up critically. He'd have to have been out here for at least a week, considering the poor state of his gear. The Exo gave off the air of a mangy cat. He was tattered and although he tried to stand tall, he was doing a poor job at hiding his weariness. He settled his belt across his hips and Andal did not miss the shiny-clean handle of a generic handgun poking out of its holster.
He kept care of his guns, at least. That was a point in his favor.
"Little lost, aren't you?" Andal said. GPS wouldn't connect through the interference and the landscape was so barren as to be indistinct. If one lost their way out here it would be easy to wander in circles.
"I'm not lost," Cayde-6 protested.
He was so obviously lying it was kind of humorous. Andal thought for a second to call his bluff, say 'fine' and walk away. It would be funny. But the Exo's shoulders were hunched, obviously tired but still trying to keep some sense of pride about him. It would be cruel to make him beg.
So instead Andal raised his eyebrows. "Sure you're not," he drawled. "You want coordinates?"
The Hunter's Ghost- for Andal had decided that yes, this definitely was a Hunter, if a young one from the look of his gear- buzzed over. Charin went to confer with them and the two Guardians were left with a moment of awkward quiet.
It was impossible to look at the Exo and not feel some pity. He was trying to keep up the bravado but it was clear how beaten-down he'd become. Exos did not get radiation sickness as easily as Humans did, but prolonged exposure could mess up their systems. This dull, Traveler-forsaken wasteland was bad enough without your body crapping out on you.
He had only just met this man. Barely two dozen words had even passed between them. Yet the idea of just leaving him to trudge out of the exclusion zone by himself made Andal very upset. But how to offer assistance without prodding at his obviously-hurt pride? The Exo seemed just as likely reject the offer of a lift home as he was to accept it.
He had an idea. He gestured for Charin to come over and murmured a request for the map. She projected one in the air and Andal turned so the other Guardian could see it clearly.
He pointed to their current location on the projection and began a debrief. "We're right here. Our quarry, a Wolf Captain, has been heading East-Northeast for several klicks." He traced the trail he'd followed across the wastes. "We should be close now. If we put a move on, we can track her down, take her out, and be back in the City to collect our bounty before nightfall."
Cayde looked at him skeptically. This was quite a generous unsaid offer Andal was putting on the table. He'd covered his obligations by giving the other Hunter their coordinates. He would have every right to leave Cayde now and continue on his hunt. Here he was, offering not only a free ride back to the City, but a share of the payout as well. All without an ounce of judgement passed or shame laid.
"We can't stand around all day," Andal remind him, pulling his Hand Cannon free from its holster. "Are you in?"
The Exo hesitated until his Ghost scooted over to whisper in his ear. "Maybe don't look a gift Sparrow under the hood," she suggested.
"Alright," the Exo relented. "But I'm buying you dinner when we get back, at least."
Andal understood that, not wanting to owe another person. He grinned. "You drive a hard bargain, Cayde-6."
Day 12 - Which Witch?
What if you didn't know where the bad side of town was,
Where would you wander to?
So many places from which to choose
Would you let yourself be?
Wake Up – The Ditty Bops
Sedia had been in meditation when the first stirrings had brushed against her consciousness. The presence was faint, translucent in her mind's eye like ripples in the air. And it was unfamiliar. Nothing should be unfamiliar to her here in the Dreaming City.
So she stood up and followed it through the pathways and under the arches. People passed by her, giving her a wide berth. She hardly noticed them. She was focused. She moved like a wraith through the mists, one foot in the physical world, one in the metaphorical. The presence moved, too, winding between the rocks, up staircases. Sedia tracked the sensations like a shark following a trail through bloodied waters.
She came to herself standing before the Blind Well. The presence had stopped here. The wandering Techeun found herself with company; Shuro Chi stood poised and perfect next to her. Sedia felt the question in her mind.
"I detect a presence, but one not Awoken," Sedia explained.
Shuro Chi shifted her weight. "I sense it too."
"It wanders," Sedia said. "Through the Gardens and the Mists. Along the leylines."
"It is unknown to me," the other Techeun admitted. "Come. Let us summon it and bind it here so we may seek answers from it."
A risky move if it were dangerous. But Sedia did not think it felt dangerous. It felt like the brightest parts of starlight and the deepest reaches of the caverns. It walked lightly, leaving no footprints.
Sedia and Shuro Chi moved their wills together. Their augments glittered, casting small flecks of light on the pillars and the ceiling. The Blind Well was a gateway into other realms, a weak spot between realities. Chanting in unison, the Techeuns hooked the presence and pulled it through. They grounded it in reality, shifting frequencies until a form resolved itself into focus.
It was a Guardian. She stood on the rim of the Well, a quarter-circle to Sedia's left, fluid in her stillness. Her hands were on her hips and her head was tilted back, studying the ceiling.
Both Techeuns were disturbed. A Guardian? In the Dreaming City? This was a secret place, yet uncomprehended by outsiders. (She wasn't even Awoken. Her skin was pale, her hair dark, her eyes an unlit gray. The cloak on her back suggested the dappled leaves of Earth's forests. An ordinary Human.)
The Guardian finally noticed the two Techeuns. She turned from inspecting the ceiling to inspecting them instead, hands still on her hips. "Huh," she said conversationally. "Didn't think I'd end up here."
"You trespass, Guardian," Sedia warned. They had pulled her through the veil, but the Guardian had been here, wandering through their city and their gardens.
"I was just dreaming," the Guardian said in defense. She looked down at her hands, flexing them. "Though… this isn't a dream anymore, is it?"
"This is Awoken territory," Shuro Chi said.
"The Blind Well, right?" the Guardian said, gesturing to the pit set in the floor before them. "Weird. I didn't think it worked like that."
"It works as we command it to," Sedia intoned. "What do you know of the Blind Well?"
The Guardian's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she brought up her hands in a peaceful gesture. "No need to be so hostile. Listen. I made a promise to Sjur Eido to not poke around uninvited. But I didn't do this. You pulled me here, didn't you?"
"What were you doing, wandering the Ascendant plane?" Shuro Chi demanded. Its very existence should be unknown to the Guardians. How had this one navigated the Sea of Screams to be here?
The Guardian shrugged, eyes distant with remembering. "Dreaming, like I said. I was following a sound… someone was singing."
Suddenly, her eyes cleared and a look of frustrated realization settled on her face. "The Witch Queen," she growled.
Sedia stiffened in annoyance. "Queen Mara is no-"
"Savathûn," the Guardian clarified, voice low. Neither Techeun missed the resonance in the leylines as the syllables were uttered. The Guardian continued on, seemingly unperturbed. "Though to say her name invites speculation, and to speculate is to feed her. To make her strong."
"Tell us what you know," Shuro Chi demanded.
The Guardian didn't seem to hear her. Her form was semi-translucent, just an afterimage of her existence. "Witches," the Guardian said wryly. "Man, I'll admit I'm not the right shape for this battle. All these… half-secrets and mind games. And you." She spread her arms. "What even is this?"
"Hold her," Shuro Chi said in warning. The Guardian was slipping the bonds. Sedia laid new ones on her and her form re-solidified.
"Maybe your Queen Mara will be better at it," the Guardian concluded, eyes focusing back on the Techeuns. "Whenever she gets back."
"Back from where?" Sedia asked.
"From…" the Guardian started. She paused. She looked around, taking in the scene again- the walls, the ceiling, the two Witches in front of her. Her eyes went wide. "What… year is it?" For an unnerving moment, her form stuttered like a shoddy recording.
Shuro Chi was the first one to realize. "What year do you think it is?" she asked in return. When the Guardian came from was much more interesting than where she came from.
The Guardian's form solidified again. Her eyes were sharp, her shoulders set. "Too early- no. No! What are you even thinking?" It was unclear whether she was talking to the Witches or to herself.
Sedia tried bargaining. "Any information you can give us-"
"Will cause massive paradoxes," the Guardian interrupted. "Even this- I should not be here. You need to let me go and forget you ever saw me. Our enemy- and that is an inclusive our, she opposes you, too- she only benefits from a weakened reality."
"I have had enough games, Guardian," Shuro Chi said, voice ringing like a tuning fork. "You cannot leave while we bind you here. You will answer our questions-"
"Fuck that," the Guardian interrupted. "Not here. Not now."
"You don't have a choice," Sedia pointed out.
"Don't I?" the Guardian asked. There was a spark of mischief in her eye, undeniable. "It's been just a joy hanging out with you, but I have some sleeping to get back to-"
"Wait-"
But the Guardian, somehow, was already gone, slipped her anchors and vanished back into incorporeality.
Day 13 - Pyramid Scheme
All the way from the towers, high above glass ceiling tombs
Tell themselves that they've earned this
By working hard and playing by the rules
But this is only part-true
A dangerous trick played on me and you
And so, like a practical joke
We've pulled on these bootstraps so hard that they broke
Disparity by Design – Rise Against
October 20, 2952; Mare Cognitum, Luna
"So you're saying it's a giant pyramid scheme."
Eris Morn stopped in her tracks. "It is more complex than that."
Azra grinned. "I mean, listen. You got your Thrall: dime-a-dozen, not worth much, not doing much to feed their Worms, but there's a gajillion of them."
"Yessss," Eris drew out in grudging frustration.
"Next level up, the Acolytes, still not much but better than Thrall, but there's fewer of them. So though each Thrall only passes on a little bit, if there's a dozen Thrall for every Acolyte, two dozen, plus the Acolytes doing work, there's enough to sustain them and pass it up-"
"To the Wizards and Knights, who similarly pass their tribute up to higher levels, so that the Ascendant Hive can sustain great sizes and lifespans," Eris droned. "That is the structure."
"Large base, tiny point, it's a pyramid," Azra said, spreading her arms in a grandiose gesture.
"If that is how you wish to picture it," Eris said. She began walking again, leaving Azra to jog along behind, bouncing in the low gravity.
"So, really," the Arcstrider reasoned, "the Thralls are the most important Hive."
"The Thrall are bottom-feeders," Eris said. "Chaff. Expendable."
"Cut off the head and another high-ranking Hive will take its place- and someone will move up to cover their gap, as long as the tribute flows. But…" the Hunter paused as they came over a ridge, surveying the land below them. "But if you could kill all of the Thrall, the whole system would collapse."
"Killing all of the Thrall is impossible," Eris said. "As you have pointed out, there are, and I quote, 'A gajillion of them'. And the Hive breed quickly."
"Tricky business," Azra mused. She began making her way down the slope.
"How does the Vex hierarchy work?" Eris asked. "I never quite grasped the intricacies of their relations."
"There is no hierarchy, not really," Azra said. "All Radiolaria is the same. And it makes more of itself. The frames offer some differentiation- not just the functions, you know, Goblin, Minotaur, Mind, but the different subgroups have different variations on programming. But it's all the same Pattern and the same force that drives them."
"So killing a Gate Lord does the same harm as killing a Hobgoblin?" Eris asked.
"You stop the Vex from being able to perform whatever function that frame fulfilled- physical or computational. At least until another is built. And you kill the Radiolaria in the frame. But I'm not really sure it's possible to hurt the Vex as much as it is to hurt their plans."
"With their nature dependent on the Pattern they follow, is that not the same thing?"
"Suppose you're right," Azra said. "Hold up."
She stopped walking now. There was an almost imperceptible sensation- a hint of a prickle on her skin, a whine just out of range of her hearing. "Do you feel that?"
"Yes," Eris said.
Azra closed her eyes and breathed deeply from the filtered air her helmet provided. A bit of a shiver creeped up her spine. "That doesn't really feel like Hive."
"Nor Vex," Eris agreed. "Do you see?"
"Don't get me wrong, it's weird," Azra said. "But it's really… faint. And I don't see any caves or anything nearby."
"I simply wanted confirmation. Investigation can wait. As you said, I feel it is dormant."
"Hm." Was all the Arcstrider said.
Day 14 - Formal Attire
Zoot suit, white jacket with side vents
Five inches long
I'm out on the street again
And I'm leaping along
I'm dressed right for a beach fight
But I just can't explain
Why that uncertain feeling is still
Here in my brain
Cut My Hair – The Who
May 01, 2872; Tower Concourse, The Last City, Earth
"Heard Alaia Ruse is making you go to that Vanguard shindig," Andal said.
Azra fidgeted. "Yeah," she said. "Not really looking forward to it. Seems like…"
"A waste of everyone's time?" Tevis led. "That it is."
"Ah, but it's an important networking event," Andal said, parodying sincerity. "It lets all of the important people meet and talk about all of the important things they could be doing if they weren't at that party."
"I wouldn't say I'm important," Azra protested. "How can a four-year-old be important?"
"You forgetting Twilight Gap?" Tevis said. "And your Arcstrider business."
Andal did not miss Azra's face go a bit pale at that last comment. He knew people had been bothering her about it. "It's not all that bad," Andal said. "Usually everyone there is pretty experienced in the field. Interesting stories. And the food's at least halfway decent."
'Not like I have a choice, anyway," Azra mumbled.
Cayde decided to change the topic of conversation. "So, you're going. What are you going to wear?"
The young Arcstrider looked suddenly apprehensive. "Uh, what do you mean?"
"A dress, a suit?" Cayde asked. "It's a formal party. Black-tie."
"Black-tie," Azra repeated in an even tone of voice that meant she had no idea what the word meant. "I mean, I have a black cape somewhere, I think?"
"You don't have a dress or a suit, do you," Andal half-asked.
"Andal," Shiro said in warning, "She's three, and she's not city-bound. I would bet fifty Glimmer she doesn't even own clothes."
"I own clothes," Azra said defensively.
"Base layers don't count," Shiro taunted. "Think. Have you literally ever seen her not wearing armor?"
Andal looked down at his own getup- Comfortable cotton and polyester, stylish enough for the Tower but not very protective, and then looked back at Azra, who was dressed in combat armor.
"Azra," Andal said, aghast. "What do you sleep in?"
"Uh," she said. "This?"
Tevis snorted, unable to conceal a grin. "Cayde. Twenty Glimmer she'll try on one dress and never touch them again."
Cayde tapped a finger to his chin. "I dunno, she could pull off that graceful look. Something flowy."
"Skirts are rather impractical," Shiro weighed in. "But then again, so are parties."
"You're just upset you can't pull them off," Cayde teased.
"Alas," Shiro said, not sounding all that mournful. "My stubby legs."
"A short skirt and stockings," Cayde suggested. "That would-"
"Not be black tie," Andal interrupted. "And it's a moot point anyway, since she apparently doesn't even have pajamas."
"Are parties really all this complicated?" Azra asked. She looked… daunted.
"Even more complicated," Tevis said. "It's creative black-tie, per the invite. People will go nuts."
"Okay," Azra said, sounding overwhelmed. "What does that- I don't…"
Andal took pity on her. "I'll help you," he offered. "We'll go shopping tomorrow. But you gotta listen to my advice."
"Taken as gospel," the newbie promised.
"You're also buying some pajamas," Andal warned. "And casual clothes."
Azra looked for a second like she might be stubborn, but Andal glared and she relented. "Alright."
Cayde nudged Tevis next to him. "Hundred Glimmer for your bet and you're on."
"Deal."
May 03, 2872, 18:20; The Last City, Earth
Andal arrived at the rendezvous point to find Azra already there. (She was always early to things she was nervous about. It would have been cute if she weren't pacing a hole in the street.) "Quick, go hide before the others get here," the Gunslinger urged. "We'll give you a grand entrance."
The younger Hunter looked unsure, but obliged Andal's shooing and slouched her way into the shadows of a nearby alley. It wasn't a moment too soon- Andal turned around and barely had time to check his watch before Tevis transmatted in.
Tevis was in his usual party getup: a muted maroon suit over a white shirt and black tie. He fidgeted with his cufflinks and scowled, probably upset at the fact that he had to go to the party in the first place. He raised an eyebrow at Andal.
Andal had done a little shopping himself while taking Azra out and had assembled what he thought was a very tasteful new look. He wore his classic tails but had accessorized with a tie laced with golden thread and a polished golden pocketwatch on a chain. He'd had Charin help braid up some of his hair with metallic threads and had a golden square peeking out of his pocket. "Shiny," was Tevis's bland comment.
A minute later came Shiro, also in tails, but with a striking yellow tie that upon closer inspection was stitched from the banner cloth of the House of Kings. He proudly unbuttoned his jacket to reveal that the inside was lined with identical yellow fabric. "Sewed it myself," the Exo bragged.
Andal teased him. "Couldn't find a City tailor that would touch your looted Fallen clothes?"
"Thought the kid was supposed to meet us here?" Tevis grumbled.
"We're waiting to reveal the outcome of your bet until Cayde is here," Andal explained. He checked his pocket watch and frowned. "Though if we wait too much longer for him, we'll be late. Well, more late, but getting into irresponsible territory."
"You snooze, you lose," Tevis said. "I'm not having Alaia chew my ear off again. Let's have at it."
"Alright then, you ready, Azra?"
"It's kind of weird you just stuck me in an alley," the young Hunter called back. "Can I stop staring at the brick wall and come out now?"
Andal swept up to the corner and put on his best showman's voice. Performing a showy bow, he announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado… Azra Jax. In clothes!"
Shiro whistled and the Ghosts all cheered in encouragement. Azra stepped around the corner, face held still but beet-red from embarrassment. She was not wearing a dress. She had on a slim suit in slate gray over a black undershirt and a luminous white tie. She stuck her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders, looking like she very much missed her armor. It wasn't the most colorful clothing, but there were compromises that had to be made. At least she had on dress shoes and not combat boots.
Cayde chose that moment to transmat in. "I'm not late," he asserted in a bald-faced lie. "Oh hey, Azra. Lookin' good."
All eyes left Azra and turned to Cayde. Tevis couldn't help but guffaw. The Exo was in a poofy ballgown of buttercream yellow. He had a flowered headband riding under his horn and jewelry on his wrists.
Andal narrowed his eyes at the Exo. He'd bought Cayde a very nice, tailored suit for the last Dawning (after he'd tried to show up to a party in jeans). Why wasn't he wearing that? He'd seemed impressed when Andal had given it to him, but the first chance he got he'd put on something else?
Cayde met his glare and balked a little bit, optics flicking in a tell. He glanced towards the young Arcstrider unconsciously before schooling himself back into nonchalance.
Andal softened. Azra obviously was going to feel uncomfortable enough tonight, with the unfamiliar clothes and the unfamiliar attention laid on her. Having a little ridiculousness about would draw the eyes off of her. And Cayde being silly would make her feel a bit more at ease with the formality.
Plus, the dress was hilarious. He hadn't even gone for one tailored for a man- the bodice was fitted tightly and flared out to accentuate his non-existent hips. The skits were poofy and dappled with sequins. It was not something most Hunters would be caught dead wearing. But Cayde, being Cayde, was inviting everyone to laugh at him. He, naturally, would be laughing the hardest. A way to both lighten the mood and poke fun at the rigid system of formal dress expected at these parties.
"Can we just get going already?" Tevis complained. "Cayde owes me a hundred Glimmer and I plan to spend it at the bar."
Day 15 - Titan Fall
Content Warning: mild depictions of gore/death
When cries for help go unanswered
And signal fires just burn and burn
We wonder if we're waiting here for nothing
Cause our lips are sewn, our ears are filled
With the constant drone of the unfulfilled
But we'll never fall if we stand for something
We stand for something
Long Forgotten Sons – Rise Against
The Night of April 21, 2871; Twilight Gap, The Last City, Earth
The first time Shaxx died, it was to a Baron of House Kings.
The Baron's name was Pyrrkis. Shaxx had never heard of them before. Later, he asked his Ghost to remember the name, because nobody else would. Pyrrkis had only a few moments to celebrate their victory over Lord Shaxx before Lord Shaxx rose again and took their head off with an electrified fist.
The second time Shaxx died, it was to a long-range Tracer Shank.
He had been distracted by a swarm of Dregs and hadn't noticed the small machine take aim at him. The first shot ricocheted harmlessly off of his chestplate, but when he raised his head to see where the attack had come from, the second one took him in the throat, right in the chink of space between his gorget and his helmet. He bled out in seconds. (Ana took the Shank out of the air a moment later, while Liu Feng scattered the Dregs.)
The third time Shaxx died, it was to a Walker.
The Fallen so boldly sent one of their war machines into close range, hoping to simply run over Lord Shaxx and his fireteam. Truce Vance had distracted it long enough for Shaxx to get close, but not long enough to let him get inside the range of the Walker's main cannon. It swiveled suddenly and took him out point-blank. Shaxx was up again in only a few moments, tearing off the Walker's leg in a roar of triumph. (The Walker tried to limp away after that, but only made it a few hundred meters before Idil Abdi brought their rocket launcher to bear).
The fourth time Shaxx died, it was to the Shock Blade of a cloaked Marauder, and he felt the sting of it even after he was resurrected.
The fifth time Shaxx died, he was blown apart by a Scorch Cannon.
The sixth time, Wire Rifle fire.
His Fireteam was close, and so was the Traveler, so he never stayed dead for long. But he died.
A lot.
The tenth time Shaxx died, he had to muster the energy to heave himself back to his feet. But he did, and he aimed his Mountaintop at the Captain who had killed him. The Captain did not rise again.
By the twentieth time Shaxx died, his ears had begun ringing.
By the thirtieth time, his hands shook. He had to force them to be still so that he could aim his Pulse Rifle properly.
Ana Bray was his savior, insisting that he eat, demanding that he take breaks that he would never have volunteered for. Even at the slow times, the fighting never stopped. But Nkechi-32 had a way with her Scout Rifle and could pick off entire parties at range, and Ana sat on her perch and never missed a single sniper shot, so he could sit easy for a few moments and breathe knowing the line would hold without him.
So Shaxx died forty times, then fifty. He was stabbed, shot, crushed, blown up, and burned. But he never faltered, never considered retreat for even a moment. At the times when the fight felt hopeless, he would look behind him, to the City still pristine and perfect, to the Traveler, and his resolve would strengthen.
When the Sun rose, finally, and the Fallen pulled back, Lord Shaxx had lost count of how many times he had died. The last engagements had been sloppy, desperate. The Fallen had known they were running out of chances. The Guardians had been running on fumes the entire night.
But in the end it didn't matter. Shaxx stood with his Fireteam and watched the morning light refract oranges and pinks on the clouds. He knew what Admiral Yi must have felt, watching the Japanese Navy sinking in the Myeongnyang Strait, what Chamberlain must have felt watching the Confederate retreat after defending Little Round Top against all odds.
Shaky relief. Weak knees. But steel in his gut.
