AN: This is a mix of a prologue as well as a test of the waters to see if people enjoy my writing still. I have enjoyed writing this chapter, which takes place before the events of Forsaken. Read and review if you so desire, but most of all, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of Bungie's content.
A small sphere zipped about. It's protective case, scratched and damaged as it was, provided little safety from the harsh vacuum of space. Long since giving up on scanning in hopes of finding what it searched for, the ghost simply followed the only thing it knew; a flickering of light amongst the consuming darkness. For years, this little being of light had travelled alone. Unlike most of the others of its kind, it still had yet to find its partner. Within its core, it knew that it was closer now than ever before.
Wearily, the ghost came across a small ship. The vessel was simply floating in space, only partially intact and completely unresponsive. The mechanical sphere entered through one of the ruptures in the hull and settled down upon a pile of crates still locked tightly in place. Just before powering down for a rest, it realized that the light it was following lay a little further within the vessel. Too exhausted, or as much as a machine can be, to continue, it powered down to rest.
When the ghost powered up once more, it realized that what it had intended to be a rest for a few hours became several weeks. It quickly rose and zipped through small crevices and vents to reach its target. A cryo tank held the only other resident of the ship: the frozen corpse of a man. Without wasting a moment, the ghost used its own power to defrost the cryo chamber. When the last of the ice had gone, the glass disappeared, allowing the body to collapse out and to the floor. Quickly using the last of his draining energy, the little machine created a link to the corpse, encompassing both in a blinding light. The last thing the ghost's processor saw was its partner open his mismatched eyes, which quickly held it in his gaze.
The newly revived man managed to launch himself across the small space in time to catch the falling machine. He didn't know why, but he felt a connection to the thing, a desire to protect it from danger. However, he didn't have long to rest for, at that exact moment, the ship began to shake violently. On unsteady legs, he rose and stumbled along the only clear path. Coming to the bridge, he saw an asteroid belt approaching. With practiced ease that surprised himself, he manually shut the bridge's air lock and strapped himself into a seat, cradling his ghost.
Flames began to lick at the edge of the glass, showing that they had broken into the atmosphere. Metal creaked and groaned under the heat and pressure before screaming as sections further back tore themselves apart. Just when he thought the ship would destroy itself, it crashed into the surface of a terraformed asteroid, digging a deep trench before coming to rest.
An unknown memory came to the man's mind: 'You have arrived at your destination.' A chuckle escaped his lips, followed by a groan of pain. He unstrapped himself and stood, almost immediately collapsing. He still wasn't use to his newly reborn legs. He shook his head to clear it and tried again successfully. He stumbled and crawled through the ship wreckage blindly, retracing steps when he came upon dead ends or blocked passages. When an opening to the outside came into view, a flicker of light at the edge of his vision distracted him. He glanced down to see the small machine's receptor light up blue before it started to hover.
"Oh thank the traveler!" it exclaimed in a feminine voice bobbing in place excitedly. The man raised an eyebrow in question, and the sphere responded in a seemingly sheepish tone. "I wasn't sure it would work, guardian. My light was so low and the darkness was so powerful that I didn't know if I could even revive you, but I had to try."
The sound of chittering and a shrill scream pierced the air, resulting in the machine spinning in fear, looking for the source before it zipped around and behind the man, who had grabbed a large metal pipe from the floor before using it as a cane to stand and lean against the wall, preparing his makeshift weapon for whatever approached. A spike covered creature poked its head through the open hole and looked at them both before disappearing and chittering more. When it reappeared, it held out a clawed hand and spoke in broken english.
"You hurt. You come. You live. You stay, you die." It stayed in the opening, hand still outstretched.
The man briefly considered his options. 'On one hand, i could deny and try to fight. It is right though, i'm not equipped enough to survive for long, and both I and this little machine of mine need help. One the other, if I do accept, it could be right and help us. The worst case would be they trick us and kill us, which might just happen otherwise.'
Another, feminine voice cut into his thoughts. "I agree, guardian. Though I fear the fallen, if these are who I believe, then they will actually help us."
With a jolt, the man glanced behind him where the machine floated. He could sense amusement from it, which only proved to him that it was indeed linked with his mind on some level. His decision made and seconded, he took the hand of the fallen and was helped out of the wreck. The following journey was uneventful aside from the occasional stumble.
The ghost simply set down on the revived guardian's shoulder, communicating through thoughts. "I just realized we haven't introduced ourselves to each other, guardian. I'm what is known as a ghost, more specifically your ghost."
The guardian twitched, still unused to another voice in his head. 'I'm...give me a second, it's all blurry. Um…it's vague, but I recall going by Reaper. Not my name, but I can't seem to remember that, yet at least. And you?'
"Us ghosts don't have names. My unit identifier has been G-46 though." There was a feeling of a shrug with the words.
'That won't do. How about I call you Spectre?' Reaper could feel the newly christened Spectre vibrate with happiness, and nodded in finality. 'So, what can you tell me about these creatures and this area?'
"They are called fallen. In most cases, they are extremely violent scavengers. They prefer to tinker with everything they get their hands on. These ones though, I believe they are some of the nicer ones, and I use that term loosely. If rumors are true, they work for and follow a fallen leader called Spider. According to what I've heard, Spider is the only fallen leader that prefers a more business aspect instead of battle."
By this time, the group had arrived at a vault door. One of their escorts led them through the door, the others moving aside to guard the entry. Sitting in a suspended, throne like chair opposite the door was a large, fat creature. It lacked the spiny appearance the other fallen had, and wore a small amount of armor. With glowing visors in its helmet, it watched the guardian approach. In two of its four hands, it played with the dead shell of a ghost as if it were a rubix cube.
"So you're the one that has caused all the recent fuss in the old shipyard." The creature's voice hissed like a snake while rumbling like gravel. "I'm known as Spider, and if you are what I believe, we could have a very profitable relationship." Reaper could hear the smug, knowing grin that was hidden behind Spider's helm, and cast a sideways glance at his ghost.
Spectre, upon realizing what Spider was playing with, tried to hide behind Reaper's shoulder. "He's playing with the corpse of another ghost!" The small machine's voice was filled with fear, and Reaper slipped into a protective stance.
Spider gave a rolling laugh as he shifted in his throne. "So you are one of them, despite having no armor. A freshly created guardian, on my own shore no less!" He leaned forward and studied Reaper. "Allow me to outfit you with some gear to start our friendship. It wouldn't do for me to have you run about doing tasks for me without protection after all." It pointed at one of the guards. "Take him to the armory and allow him to choose armor and weapons at once."
The soldier stepped forward with a chittering sound before walking away. Reaper followed, only turning from Spider when he felt the distance was sufficient.
Feeling safer, Spectre began to hover around Reaper, examining the halls as they walked. "Normally, ghosts create simple armor for their guardians when they revive them, but I can't. I didn't have enough light within me to do so. Sadly, I won't be able to ever create armor for you unless we get materials and are in a place with more light."
Reaper shrugged. "That's fine. I'm more partial to creating my armor myself anyways. Weapons, on the other hand, I'll take what I can get."
They stepped through a door and their guide moved to the side, motioning the duo forward into the armory. Reaper approached a rack of armor and inspected the design. It was simple enough, offering a decent amount of protection and had little in the way of concept. Quickly donning a set that fit, he moved to a wall that held a variety of weapons. Slipping a small sidearm into a holster on his hip, he grabbed a sword and a sniper, testing the balance of one and the scope of the other. His decision made, he slung both across his back on opposite shoulders.
He considered the weapons and how comfortable they felt to him, and quickly found himself standing before Spider once more, the creature's clapping snapping him from his thoughts.
"Now you look like a warrior! I'll have some ammo brought to you before you leave, but first we must discuss the terms of your employment." The sly smile hidden behind Spider's helm could be felt in every word spoken.
Reaper smirked himself, and shook his head. "Now now, let's not get ahead of ourselves. If we are friends, as you say, then there is no employment unless both desire such. I prefer to do what I want, when I want. I will do a few jobs for you in turn for providing this gear, but after those, shall we say, two jobs, I will only do work on a contract basis."
Spider spluttered for a moment, shifting in his chair as he thought, before laughing. "Spoken like a true businessman! I like you, guardian, I like you. Seven jobs."
Reaper shifted to his other foot. "Three."
"Five."
"Four of my choosing."
Spider leaned back, hands clasped before him as he considered. "Deal."
Reaper grinned. "Only if you'll write it up and sign it. I know enough about business dealings."
A laugh was the reply, followed by a pen scratching away on paper. "Now I know I like you! A true, proper businessman." He handed the paper to Reaper, who looked it over before slipping it inside his armor, not noticing when Spectre digitized it into storage. "Before you look at the available missions and jobs I might have, would you prefer to get acquainted with your new arms?"
"Just show me the list, I'll learn on the fly. After all, the sooner I pay ya back, the sooner we both profit more."
Spider laughed again before pulling a data pad from the side of his chair. After booting it up, he tossed it to Reaper, who began to scroll through the missions. Spectre hovered over his shoulder, watching.
"Reaper, if we can get a arm guard with a data pad in it, I can link it to Spider's comms so we can talk with him wherever and access missions without being here."
The fallen businessman leaned back once more, giving a seemingly interested look as the duo interacted before him. "If you do that, then our partnership will indeed be profitable, ghost. You might return to the old shipyard to see if any of the nasty hive there have left the scraps behind from their kills. The shore isn't the most hospitable place, after all, and there have been whispers of guardians going missing here. If their bodies or armor is still intact and hasn't been retrieved, you could find what you need."
Reaper tapped a mission and signed when the acceptance popped up on the screen before carelessly tossing the pad back to Spider. "Let's go hunting."
Spider simply tucked the pad away as he watched the duo leave. "Happy hunting, my lightbearer friend."
A armored creature held a nasty looking knife in its hand as it prowled amongst the wreckage of a shipyard. It turned its head sharply and focused on a glinting light. As it opened its mouth to screech, it collapsed bonelessly. The creature's head oozed blood and grey matter onto the rocky soil where it lay, the only sound following its demise the signature crack of a rifle.
Reaper calmly finished his exhale from firing, and scanned the area through the scope of his sniper before dropping from his perch. He slowly approached his prey's cooling corpse and nudged it with his boot. An off-color rock caught his attention, and he quickly traded his rifle for his sidearm and approached the rock.
Quickly realizing the rock was, in fact, a boot attached to a corpse laying partially under twisted metal, he holstered his gun and investigated. Spectre materialized and scanned the visible body parts. "This use to be a Hunter class guardian. It appears something has eaten the rest of the body. We won't find anything useful here." The machine's shell spun slightly, grinding as the damaged metal scraped against each other. "Aside from my new desire to get a replacement shell, what exactly was the mission you chose?"
"Kill fifty hive in the shipyard. Pretty simple mission, but also lines up with us searching for that datapad you were talking about."
Spectre hummed in reply and returned to phase.
Reaper stood and continued into the labyrinth of crashed ships, following the tracks the creature had left. Spectre had marked it as one of the hive, so he knew he only needed to find forty nine more. He rounded a corner and immediately backtracked to cover. He peeked around to see a small group of lanky creatures move slowly towards his location. "What in the world?"
"Thrall, the one of the lowest of the hive. While I count five, there could easily be more just out of sight."
Reaper took a breath before drawing his sidearm. He stepped out of cover and quickly fired five of the seven rounds held within the mag. Each bullet easily pierced a thrall's head, and the group collapsed into a pile of cooling remains. Immediately, the ground began to rumble. A large, sword-bearing creature charged into the clearing, not stopping as it redirected towards the guardian. Reaper swapped out for his sword and met the charge head-on. Right before the two connected, he realized that this plan would likely end in his death. Pushing that thought aside, he blocked the knight's swing and sidestepped, following with a cross attack. The fallen-made blade within his hands only barely cut into the knight's armor.
With a resounding battlecry, the knight swung it's sword again, and Reaper rolled out of reach. Knowing that he didn't have many options, he drew his sniper and jumped, launching himself over the knight, and blindly fired straight down at his assailant. The single bullet ripped through the hive's armor, and it collapsed to the ground. The sword, still wedged into it's armor, cut further into its side under the creature's own weight, ensuring its fall to death's embrace.
Reaper knelt on the ground, working to even out his breathing and slow his racing heart. He slung the rifle onto his back and moved to the dead knight's body. With a grunt, he tried and failed to remove his sword from its remains. Letting out an annoyed huff, the guardian surveyed the area. It seemed familiar. That was when he saw a specific ship, and he staggered.
"What's wrong, Reaper?" questioned Spectre. Without a word, the human pointed directly at the wreck. "Lets go and look at it. That's the ship I found you on. If just seeing it caused this reaction, something inside may help with your memory." The machine phased into reality and zipped away. Reaper simply followed.
Entering the ship proved a struggle as their original exit point had been collapsed in by something large and heavy impacting it, cratering the metal. The pair managed to squeeze in through a shattered window, and the two chairs accompanying busted control panels told them they were in the cockpit.
The guardian slowly approached the controls as his ghost flew about the room, scanning everything that caught her interest. Reaper removed his helmet, holding it loosely in one hand as he lightly dragged his other across the controls. He paused as they brushed against an aged book. He set down his helmet and lifted the book, flipping through it with extreme delicacy. It gave him a sense of familiarity. He froze in shock only a quarter of the way into the journal, and collapsed onto the chair.
Spectre heard the noise and immediately flew over. She hovered over her guardian's shoulder to see what had happened. Laying innocently upon the yellowed pages was an old photograph. It had been carefully preserved in a clear wrapping. The only slightly faded printing showed a man and woman standing together, a small child laughing in between them.
The ghost gave a thoughtful hum. "That looks like you. Is that your-"
"Family…" the word was whispered with a sense of longing. "My…my son…" he trailed off and sank further into the chair. His eyes rolled back in his head as he dropped the book into his lap. The photo fluttered to the ground and Spectre put it into storage as she waited for her guardian to return to wakefulness.
Minutes passed before he snapped up, drawing his sidearm and aiming at nothing. He let out heavy breaths before realizing where he was. Without a word, he pulled his helmet back on and holstered the pistol. With purposeful strides, he made towards a slightly ajar blast door and slipped through the crack. Spectre floated along behind, filled with worry.
Inside the room were old weapon racks and containers. Reaper strode past most of them and stopped before a locker. It was one of the few with a legible name on it. Jay "Reaper" Drakon. With trembling fingers, he unlocked and opened the door. He gently removed the helmet from its hook and set it aside. As his shoulders began to shake, he reverently took hold of the two sets of dog tags that hung where the helmet had. One set, the standard silver colored material used by armed forces of the past, held his chosen name. The other, a custom black set with white letters emblazoned upon their face, held two other names. He looped the chains of both sets around his neck and slipped the tags inside his armor before resting his head against the top of the locker, audible sobs wracking his frame.
Spectre, not knowing what else to do, gently settled on her guardian's shoulder. The machine's contact let him know that someone was here for him, and he finally gave in and broke down into tears. When he pulled himself together enough to function, he removed his old armor from the locker. He turned and looked at it just in time to see Spectre digitize it into storage.
"I'm going to keep it safe until we are safe enough for you to do that tinkering you were talking about."
"Thank you, my friend." Reaper put his helmet back on and left the ship, a new confidence in his step. Spectre dispersed in a flash of light. Drawing his sidearm from its holster, the guardian ventured once more into the dangerous graveyard of ships.
AN: As much as I want to add more to the length of this, I cannot find a good path to follow. The rest of my ideas for this story will continue further along the story line. As this is the prologue, the main purpose is to set up a starting point and somewhat of an origin. If you have enjoyed this, please review, favorite, and/or follow. I shall soon begin the next chapter, which will be the official chapter 1, and if the muse is still with me, it may also include chapter 2 so that the site's chapter numbers also line up with the chapters. Thank you for reading!