Man, I can see that my writing has improved since the first chapter, but god damn do I make the dumbest mistakes. I probably need a beta-reader if anyone wants to do that.
To the people who don't like the direction the story is going: I understand what you're feeling but unfortunately, there won't be much improvement in that. I want to take this beyond a "character x does thing in series y" and I can see why people want that, it's fun to read. I'm writing this because I want to gush about Destiny lore and mix it with RWBY, it started as a piece on what Saint would do in this universe but I guess ambitions got the best of me.
Once we get to Season 7 the story will become much more explosive when all the pieces start falling together. Keyword: Falling.
Adding one last thing from the Destiny universe that'll be a little sub-plot for Saint to solve but that'll be it.
The Black Garden, Unknown Space
Lisbon-13's head recoils back as a spark of Vex Radiolaria jumps out at his face, splatting all over the visor of his helmet. He snarls at the Minotaur core and summons a piece of anti-conduction tape to stick it on the crack. It should hold for the jump…hopefully.
"Ghost, what are you seeing?" He yells, leaning away from the underside of Yardarm's ship to look up at his Ghost staring at the control panel in the cockpit of the ship.
"I think we're…stable? Readings are jumping all around, not sure if it can hold," Ghost says, humming after.
"God, I fucking hate how Yardarm wired this thing, seriously, who uses a red wire for ground!?" Lisbon moans while forcing the panel to the engine shut, giving it a few good smacks for good measure. The magnetic locks are on, which is good, but there is a large bulge at the center of the cover, which might present some problems if those locks fail somehow. "Eh, it'll be fine." He slides out and sits himself up.
The Black Garden's sky is bright, a few shattered stars shining through from behind the mountain next to him. Lisbon hasn't been able to figure out the day-night cycle of this place but he did manage to scope out a few astral bodies that shift in slight manners; sometimes its their spin or their placement.
The constant flow of Radiolaria from the waterfalls trickle into a stream that surrounds him and his ship. He uses it to fill up the dead Vex cores that will power his vehicle, for the eventual flight out of this beautiful, but wretched place.
Lisbon can hear something calling out to him. Divinity. The weapon that led him into this entire mess, the weapon that helped corrupt Rekkana and Yardarm, the weapon that the Vex worshipped. He shudders at the thought of handling it again.
His Ghost flies into his sightline and they make eye contact.
"Are you okay?" Ghost asks, his tone softening.
"I…" Lisbon sighs. "Yeah, let's just get out of here. I'll confess to the Vanguard when we get home."
"But they'll exile us!" Ghost shakes his head with agitation.
"I know, and maybe it's for the better. What we saw, how I killed them...I'm not a Guardian anymore. I don't know what I am. If someone stumbles into this place…Traveler help them…" Lisbon's voice trails off. "Let's get out of here, it's getting hot."
"I—alright," Ghost says. "I'll prep the systems after another check. Work on getting the moss off of the windshield, okay?"
Lisbon nods and his shoulders slump when his Ghost disappears. He sighs, shakes his head and grabs a handful of green vines that cover the plane's cockpit window. It's thin, frail and crumbles in his hand, he progresses to remove most of it from the clear silica glass. He peeks through, watching Ghost scan the controls of the ship with beams of Light.
In response, it beeps and boops before all the screens light up a bright positive light-green. The cockpit window pops open and slides back. Lisbon climbs in, landing on the pilot's seat with a light thud, kicking up dust that makes him sneeze.
He wipes away a layer of powder-like dirt from the main screen in the center of the cockpit controls, wiping his palm on the seat afterward.
There's a single message displayed:
Reminder: Figure out what to get Rekkana for coming Crimson Days
She doesn't want more books, maybe another hand cannon?
Lisbon's throat dries as he stares at the two sentences in silent defeat. Yardarm must have written that; the Crimson Days were only a few weeks away when they crashed. Rekkana still celebrated the Tower holiday despite being exiled by The Speaker and she still accepted these traditions as they were in spite of her status as a Cryptochron.
Lisbon swipes the message away, deleting it forever. He sits for another minute, before nodding once. "Let's go," he mumbles.
"Okay," Ghost says as the ship lifts from the ground. A loud grinding of metal makes Lisbon wince. "Don't worry, the landing gears are a bit rusty. We're looking good for flight stability. NLS drive is powering on."
"That's good…right?"
"Yeah, it is, we'll be out of here but I will warn you of one thing: I don't know where we'll end up, or if we'll even leave The Black Garden."
"We'll just hope things go our way." Lisbon grips the flight stick. His eyes dart between the flashing lights of the control panel and the space in front of him. "Are we good to go?"
"Whenever you are," Ghost says, disappearing after.
Lisbon takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, before exhaling for a few more. "Alright, here we go." He flicks a few switches and his thumb hovers over a red button on the flight stick. He closes his eyes and taps on it. A loud humming sound comes from behind the ship. The combustion of Radiolaria heats the entire cockpit by a few degrees.
Something beeps and the ship lifts in the air. Lisbon pulls the pilot stick back, steering it upwards before preparing for a Near-Lightspeed Jump. A few seconds of silence later, and Lisbon is overwhelmed by the colors of the universe, flashing in long streaks and tiny dots that speed right past. It's hard to visualize that those are all planets or stars that he's just passing by like the never-ending snow from the Cosmodrome.
"Uh oh," Ghost says. "Slow down, slow down!"
"What is it!?" Lisbon pulls the emergency brakes handle, situated on the left of the pilot seat. The ship comes to a screeching stop and he's thrown head-first into the cockpit window.
. . .
Lisbon's eyes close for a few seconds and when they open, he sees sparks coming from the circuitry underneath the control panel and spurts of Radiolaria jumping out from between the floor panels. He looks forward to see his ship heading straight for a thick, rope-like structure that has the same width as a dozen steel beams stuck together. Both hands wrap around the pilot stick and he pulls it to the left with all the force he can muster.
The vehicle makes a jarring roll and he manages to shift the impact location from center-mass into an entire wing. The ship hooks around the rope and is sent spinning into the air, the effect of gravity making it tilt downwards and putting it into a freefall.
A crash and Lisbon is crushed. His Ghost appears and does quick work, reviving him in less than a second. He appears, stumbling out of the ship.
The ratatat of gunfire is all around him. Little mites swarm above him with little jittery movements that go back-and-forth. Lisbon's photoreceptors are still blurry.
Someone cries in agony and tumbles to the floor.
Lisbon falls on all-fours, shaking his head to regain his bearings. His vision clears up and he looks around.
Soldiers in white armor and classic-style gas masks are fending off a giant swarm red mites that swoop in and out of sight, burrowing into spaces between monitors that cover every wall in the giant room.
Lisbon looks at his hands, caked in white concrete and blood. For a moment he thinks it's Rekkana's, but he pulls himself together to concentrate on the situation in front of him. He gasps and coughs out bits of metal before propping up one leg to hold himself.
A grey and white bullpup rifle slides to him. He scoops it up, gives it a quick inspection and slapping on the side. He levels the sights to his eyes and slowly stands up. Everything dulls around him and he snaps his body side-to-side, keeping a vigilant eye for the enemy amidst all this chaos. It all turns into background noise as he hears what sounds like a million pieces of metal scraping together coming from that swarm rushing towards him. It divides into smaller ones to pursue the soldiers in white armor that are trying to run from it.
Lisbon lets out a burst of the energy rifle, making the horde of tiny particles divert as chunks of them are taken out, collapsing and spreading into uncountable pieces on the floor.
"We have to go, now!" A marker appears on his HUD, leading towards a lozenge door that looks to have been forced open. Lisbon rushes towards it and trips on a dead body being consumed by the swarm. He stumbles a few times but manages to catch himself from falling.
The swarm is converging onto him and he manages to get outside before it reaches him.
Once outside, Lisbon sees that a massacre is occurring. Multiple swarms are killing soldiers by the dozen, taking them into the skies and consuming them to turn them into horrific red-and-black amalgamations of human and machine that would then relentlessly attack their former allies.
Ghost is screaming something in the back of Lisbon's head, but he drowns it out by unloading whatever is left of his scrounged rifle into one of those zombies that try to rush him.
"Density is getting critical, I marked a safe point where you can stay before your entire body is taken over by these things!"
Another marker, one that leads to a room with a slide-down door operated by a red button inside. Lisbon tucks and rolls, evading a volley of errant gunfire. He slides between two red barrels, turns around and knocks them over, spilling the dark-brownish liquid inside. He throws down an explosive throwing knife into the puddle. It beeps three times before a fireball forms and consumes anything unfortunate enough to be close by.
Lisbon dashes inside the marked and tackles the glowing button inside the safe room, making the entrance slams shut in front of him, leaving him in darkness while a gas sprays down from above. Thousands of mites fall from his body, writhing and attempting to form together with no success.
Lisbon wipes his brow and lets out a breath.
"Ghost, where's the nearest exit? I gotta get out of here," he mumbles, thumbing the hammer of Ancient Gospel.
"It's on the other side of this perimeter," Ghost says. "Be careful out there, if you die I won't be able to bring you back or else I'll get torn to pieces by those things."
Lisbon nods and steels himself. A shotgun appears on his back, in the same sleek and faded golden color as Ancient Gospel. It's called "Prophet of Doom." He glances at the red button and hits it with the side of his fist. He steps out and turns to the left, to get a view on what he can work with.
The entire area is littered with small roads and various roadblocks that would be useful as cover. On the other side of the compound, there is a gated fence where multiple soldiers have barricaded themselves and are fending off the swarm and its converted minions. He could go through and try to link up with them, but that would mean having to fend off everything aforementioned all by himself.
An alternate path presents itself in the form of an airfield that is relatively empty compared to the cluster of buildings that the other way was. He could go around and procure a vehicle to make getting to the exit a little bit easier.
The battle is still ongoing. What looks like reinforcements are rolling in. A steady stream of those soldiers are coming to join, while tanks and armored vehicles with big machine guns and cannons mounted on top follow in their wake.
One of the monsters tries to tackle Lisbon but he dodges to the left and prepares a trip-mine grenade in one hand. He stabs the sharp end into the zombie's torso before kicking it into a pack of its friends. The explosive disintegrates them all in a small detonation.
Lisbon shrugs and heads for the roads. He clambers over a roadblock and leaves an explosive knife in case anything is following him. His hand raises into the air and he summons a Golden Gun.
He runs and guns with his weapon of Light, burning away anything that dares stand in his path. He saves the last bullet for the swarm, which redirects its attention. It screeches in reaction to the molten bullet that melts a good part of it off and converges on him.
"Ah shit I pissed it off," he screams to himself before continuing to run. It's right behind him and seems to slowly be closing the distance between the two.
A wall of ice blocks it from reaching him, buying precious time to get away. He climbs over a wrecked armored personnel carrier and rolls over to the other side to take cover. He makes eye contact with a fair-skinned woman wearing a white and navy-blue coat pointing a dueling saber at the newly-formed ice wall. She returns his stare with a semi-annoyed one and flicks her head towards the armored car to her left.
Lisbon rushes to the vehicle and reaches his hand out to the back door.
"Behind you!" Ghost warns. Lisbon snaps behind him and jams his elbow into a soldier's stomach before throwing an Arc-charged fist at their head, forcing them into the ground. A crack of electricity and a sky-blue staff materializes in one hand. He stands still and scans the new threat.
A dozen of those troops are surrounding him with their weapons raised. A yellow streak passes by above, heading straight for the battle behind him.
"Hey, all of you, put your guns down and you'll all make it out of here alive!" Lisbon says, focusing on the soldier closest to him and taking a step back.
"Unknown assailant, we are kindly requesting you to stand down or else we will be forced to shoot!" One of them says.
Lisbon snarls and twirls his body, evading all their bullets before swinging his staff, striking a troop and disabling them, quite possibly for life. He spins his weapon, reflecting gunfire before kicking the shooter into another and throwing an Arcbolt grenade, electrocuting them both. He jumps up and readies to smash back down.
"Stay!" Someone yells and he's frozen. He falls to the floor, stilled while his unleashed charge of Light dissipates, leaving him in his regular form. He tries to fight this newfound stillness and manages to get a kick in before a brace is locked around his neck and handcuffs are snapped onto his wrists and legs.
"Let me go you fu-" Something smashes into his head.
Lisbon's systems fizz out and everything goes black.
. . .
A bright, cold light forces his sensors to reactivate. He has to blink a few times to get used to it.
Lisbon sits himself up and he feels a sort of tether linking the entire backside of his body and his arms to the roof. He looks up to see multiple tubes attached to him that plus into a glowing grid in the ceiling. He stands without many issues, as the tubes are quite flexible. He looks around, only faced with an empty room.
The ground changes form underneath him. A fallen tree stump reaching up to his chest appears.
"Please climb over the obstacle in front of you in any way you can," a kind-sounding, old voice says from a speaker in the corner of the room. "Do take your time, I understand if you are still disoriented."
"Where the fuck am I? What the hell is this?" Lisbon gestures to the stump and scans the room for any cameras. He makes out a small lens between the padding of the walls.
"I know this may seem daunting for you, as you probably think you've been kidnapped but I can assure you that it's not the case. You are safe here," the voice says. "We are just assessing your physical capabilities."
Lisbon rolls his eyes and scoffs.
"Ghost, you there?" He asks.
"Yeah, I'm here. Do what he says, I think we're in custody of a government right now."
Lisbon sighs and hops over the tree stump, sliding the side of his legs on the top and landing on the other side without flaws.
"Good, good!" The voice says. "You seem to be doing well, after your…erm, rough introduction with the troops. I tried to get Ironwood to relent on his treatment of unknown personalities such as yourself…"
"I get it, you're on my side," Lisbon says under his breath. The floor under him raises and he's presented with an obstacle course involving jumping onto small platforms about the same size as his two feet. "I didn't ask to be tested on my acrobatics, though."
He takes a breath and hops from one to the other without so much as a pause. He feels the draft of an incoming projectile headed for the back of his head and flips backward to get over it and lands back on his platform. The swinging log disappears, fizzling into pixels.
"Marvelous, marvelous! I have to meet you in person!" The voice says, a great deal of excitement in his tone. There are the sounds of shuffling and a light whirring from the speaker, before a door on the opposite side of the room slides open. A dark man on a quadrupedal chair strides in, a smile beaming on his face. His little glasses hang off the bridge of his wide nose and seem to house perceptive eyes, Lisbon knows it, he's seen that kind of look from excited and curious Warlocks.
He shakes his head of the thought and jumps down from the platform, landing in front of the man. The tubes on his body stretch but remain flexible.
"So…you're in charge of this whole place?" Lisbon asks.
"Yes, yes." The man nods. "You can call me Pietro, I work as a lead researcher in the Kingdom of Atlas' Research and Development division. I do all kinds of things, robotics, prosthetics, weaponry-"
Lisbon raises his hand and swipes his palm. "Where did you guys put my guns?"
"Oh, are you planning to leave? I was hoping you would be able to assist me with a project of mine, it's quite personal you see…" Pietro's joyous expression falters a bit. "It would mean quite a bit to me and you would be providing crucial data to improving Atlas' robotics program."
"I-" Lisbon sighs. He thinks about the proposition for a moment. "Let's see what this comprises of, and what I get from it, then maybe we can work from there. You can call me Lisbon."
"What am I getting myself into?"
"Never knew that old people have an effect on you," Ghost remarks.
. . .
A few days later, somewhere on Atlas.
Lisbon settles down on the side of a bed in his new prison cell—which looks more like an apartment room. Opposite of him is a short, wooden table where one leg is shorter than the other three with a few amenities placed on top such as a coffee machine and some packets of air-sealed food. He looks up and in the center of the ceiling is a single fisheye camera. On the wall to his right is a window with several metal bars that lets some sunlight in.
"Prisoner A-fifteen is requested to Room One." The reinforced door to his cell clicks and a light above it changes from red to green.
Lisbon stands up, stretches his arms and pushes the door outward.
A soldier in bulking armor stands in front of him, carrying a large machine gun that glows pink and purple.
"Is that a Nova Mortis?" Lisbon wonders.
"I…think so, how did they get their hands on that?" Ghost says.
"Come on, let's go." The guard flicks his weapon to the right.
The man trails him as he walks down the hallways of this prison. A few guards pass by them and their stares are pretty obvious. He is led into an elevator.
The guard presses the highest button, and they start ascending.
The two stand in wary silence. Lisbon conjures up plans to escape this place, break out and figure out wherever the hell this is. His photoreceptors gravitate towards the panel of buttons.
"Don't even think about it," the guard says, his Slavic accent thick and the words sharp.
"Don't know what you're talking about," Lisbon says in return, bringing his hands behind his back.
The elevator dings and he's shoved out and escorted in front of two wide doors.
"Polish your shoes and stand straight, you're about the meet the general," the guard says, more as a warning than as simple information. A moment later he presses a button that buzzes once that makes an intercom buzz.
The doors unlock and the guard slowly pushes it open, as if he were scared of what's on the other side. The office that presents itself in front of Lisbon is big, with a giant empty area before four steps in which a brown desk sits at the center of the slightly elevated floor.
A man with a black short beard and a white tailcoat stands in front of the desk with his arms crossed behind his back. A white-haired woman stands to the right of him, scanning him with a slight squint and the tenseness of suspicion.
"You can leave us," the man says, directed towards the guard, who nods and marches his way out of the office with distinct heavy footsteps. "And you, young man should take your hood off."
"Who're you calling young?" Lisbon mutters to himself. "I'm keeping the hood. You can see me just fine."
The general smirks. "Perceptive." The woman next to him scowls. "You aren't fond of authority."
"Wonder what made you think that?" Lisbon snaps. "Anyways, why'd you bring me here, to this…office."
"That was what I was going to discuss, you may refer to me as General Ironwood," the man says. He keeps his torso forward as he walks behind his desk, taking a seat and clasping his hands together, placing them in front of him. "You do understand the disruption you've caused when your ship crashed into our black site?"
"I don't recall being told anything." Lisbon crosses his arms. Ironwood chuckles.
"Although the contents of the project are classified, you've managed to put our scientists further back than where they've started at," Ironwood says with a grave inflection. "My subordinates are calling for you to be tried and put in the worst prison Mantle has to offer."
"Okay, and?"
Ironwood raises an eyebrow while the woman looks at him like he's insane.
"This doesn't worry you at all?" He asks.
Lisbon shrugs. "Tiny bit, but I think I can get myself out of that. Cut to the point, you want to slice me a deal, right? Say it."
The woman tenses and her hand over for her weapon.
"Conciseness, I appreciate it," Ironwood muses. "I am offering you a chance to escape from being put in prison to rot until the end of your days."
"By doing what?" Lisbon asks.
"All you have to do is enroll into Atlas Academy and continue working with Pietro after the two months he's requested from you and I will personally pardon you from all charges." Ironwood stands and leans forward, as if expecting a positive answer. "The list is quite long."
"I appreciate the offer but I will have to decline," Lisbon says, backing away one step. "I understand you're trying to be gracious but I said I would stay here for two months only, and that is what I am going to do."
"I don't think you understand. The second that day comes, you will be arrested on the spot by the first guard that sees you," the woman says. "I would do it myself if I were able to."
"Love the enthusiasm, but I'd rather be back in my room and being told to do a bunch of training exercises I could pass with my eyes closed." Lisbon turns, and glances behind himself. "Anything else?"
Ironwood sighs. "No, your guard will be waiting outside. If you wish to rescind on your decision, I will be here."
/
Lisbon leans on a balcony, looking at the boot island in the distance. His throat dries at what lays ahead. How would Saint react when he figures out the lie? It's no longer a matter of "if." It's inevitable.
Lisbon feels a bit bad for Pietro, he knew the old man had ambitions with his research and yet he still left.
He wonders how she's doing and if she's hurt by his actions.
He sighs, and leans forward on the railing. He takes a breath, filling his mechanical lungs with air. His mind drifts into pointless daydreams.
To that one reviewer who wanted me to write that Saint, Osiris and Lisbon would try to convince RWBY that Ironwood made the right decision: I'm gonna be frank with you right now, that's not gonna happen, nor will it ever happen in characters like these.