After a long, arduous trek across fallen buildings, red sand dunes, and destroyed ships of various sizes and types, eventually the Bracton Armory came into view. The building itself was surrounded by toppled facilities, blown out skyscrapers, and the unfamiliar ships from along the hike there.
"This the place, shiny?"
"Please don't call me that, but yes." Ghost replied, floating by the Exo along the trail to here; moving into inside the facility, large burned areas were scattered across the walls and floors, as if grenades were exploded inches away from them. Eventually, they both reached the armory hallway which was, probably unsurprisingly, empty.
"Almost a kilo and nothing? Walking well spent."
"Hold on, I detected weaponry in here... It's gotta be-"
"Well, it's not. You were wrong." He cut her off immediately, still not completely trusting of the thing that brought him here. "I'm starting to think you just wanted to trap me out here, away from anyway of getting out of here."
"Ghosts don't trick their Guardians, so no." She snapped back, trying to maintain a somewhat calm tone, despite the hostile manner towards her.
"Fine, fine." He scoffed, resorting to sorting through a film of red silt on the floor. Parts of rifles, sidearms, and various other high-powered weapons were scattered around, no complete weapons being found. Various manufacturer names showed up: Häkke, Suros, Omolon, but only parts were easily seen, with each name bearing a different design. The Häkke weapons were more compact, attachment rails slapped all along the top and sides; Suros had a sleeker casing, a red eagle design calling out against a white background; Omolon took a more prototype approach, containers that seemed to hold liquid as a proposed propellant or projectile inside a wireframe.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"There has to be something around here." After this statement, the Ghost drifted away from him, seemingly disappearing in a slight flash of blue light. Eventually coming back in the same flash, she said excitedly, "There's a couple of rifles in the next room! Quick, quick!"
The stomping of boots against concrete ricocheted throughout the hallway, the two sprinting to where weapons were supposedly found. Thankfully, weapon racks with scattered brands of rifles were found, some having a standard magazine assembly, others having a magazine behind the trigger in the stock. He decided to grab the latter, it being more compact.
"So, any information on this rifle you can give me?"
"It's a Häkke Lyudmila-D Pulse Rifle, it fires in 4 shot bursts and holds 36 rounds within its magazine, equating to about 9 full bursts before reloading." She stated, the information being simple in nature but slightly informative; He still wished to know more about this rifle he now holds. "Anything else I need to know?"
"As opposed to normal models, this one has an improved amount of stability when firing for extended periods, along with an integrated threat sensor to increase damage output when more than 3 hostiles are nearby." His head was spinning from the explanation, this rifle being much more complex than a simple 'point-and-shoot'. How the hell was he supposed to memorize all that information within such a short time frame?; "So what you're saying is, I can control it easier, and it gives me more bang when enemies are close?"
"That's essentially it."
He loaded a magazine from on the rack, sliding it into the rifle's bullpup magazine well. Without any form of charging handle or bolt, it snapped in place and was ready to fire. It was almost 9.7 kilograms, a hefty rifle for sure, with a 801 millimeter length, from buttstock to rifle barrel. He tested the ammunition well, the magazine sliding in and out easily as if only held in place with magnets and faith. Loading up more magazines onto his simple body armor, he turned to the ghost, "Now that we have a weapon sorted out, are there any places to get better armor?"
"Not as of yet, but if we can find some Golden Age security forces, you might be able to use one of their helmets." Golden Age Security? That must've been an eternity ago, considering the dilapidated state of Freehold as of now. But they were known for sturdy armor that lasts even in the toxic atmosphere of Venus, so it shouldn't be hard to find armor that would be still intact.
"Alright, are there any suits around?"
"Yes, in the security block 50 kilometers south." Oh thank god, it was only a short walk. Maybe this ghost wasn't so bad after all. Gathering up enough ammo to tide over an army, he strode into the still empty hallway southward, eventually reaching a station filled with skeletons dressed with security armor, the objective was seemingly easier than expected. He stripped the corpses of their armor, putting down magazines and rifle to slide the armor over his own. Securing buckles and sealing the visor, he found a prompt that said, "Rifle detected, sync up Heads-Up Display with ammunition?" After somehow selecting yes, an icon of his rifle appeared in the right corner of the screen, the magazine, and somehow, the reserve ammo showed up.
"So, this the armor?" He said, his voice now muffled through the armor.
"Yes, now we need a way to get you back to The Tower."
"Tower?" Before he could get an answer, a ship flew outside of the building; the same, familiar grumbling of the assailant outside the door where he first woke were heard, but in larger numbers.
"Oh no, oh no, the Cabal! They found us!" She disappeared into the Exo, a slight chill running down his artificial spine. Eventually, the same voice that came from the ghost when she was floating seemed to be coming from his own brain. "Alright, Cabal have extremely thick armor. You'll need a few hits to take them down."
"Wait, how are you..?!"
"I synced with you, don't worry. Every Guardian has a ghost that drifts in and out of them."
"That sounds... Strange, but I don't feel any adverse effects." That much was true: It was almost as if she was always there, taking up no space, but still being there. He proceeded out the hall to confront his attackers.
A large section of large, hulking soldiers was waiting out in the hallway; Their armor was smooth and plated, chipped orange paint punctuated on the top of the right pauldron, left shoulder having a collection of pouches at the meeting of the shoulder blade to the arm. Underneath this collection of armor was a thick body suit, almost like armor in-on-itself. The helmet was almost a dome with a slit at the front, presumably the visor in which the soldier saw through. Its weapon was impressive as well, a large triangular shaped rifle, with the tip of the 'triangle' having a barrel that extended a quarter of the way. At the front of this platoon was the commander, dressed with similar armor, but having two pauldrons with blades moving backwards from the front of the blades. On its back was two wing-like projections, a light mounted on the leftward plate, presumably to find a way through dark environments. Augmenting the 5 or so soldiers with just rifles were shield-bearers, with full body shields that had an oblong octagonal shape.
"Those... Are Cabal?"
"Yes. The ones with shields are Phalanxes, normal soldiers are Legionnaires, and that one at the front is a Centurion." They hadn't noticed the Exo yet, but they were searching the building already. He raised his rifle, and fired a couple shots at the domepiece of a Legionnaire, the helmet popping off and fountaining an oily substance. However, this wasn't blood; instead, it appeared to fill up the suit of the soldier, their face head appearing when the helmet was destroyed. Almost the same shape of a short and width spud, their mouth was largely lacking lips, with pointed but blunt teeth, their eyes mounted between the front and sides of the head. Ignoring the nightmare fuel it's hideous face and armor combined to make, he continued loading rounds into the Legionnaires, them retaliating with gunfire. If he didn't know why the marks on the walls existed then, he sure did now; the bullets from their rifles were less bullet like, and more like a small grenade, coated in a fiery propellant. The explosion was small, but the splashback could be felt even a foot away. He shot blindly, hitting targets in the chest, arms, and legs, but not enough to damage them intensely. As he reloaded a shot hit him square in the chest, sending him staggering back. It hurt almost more than a gunshot, as he recoiled in pain. A bar on the top of his visor showed a thick red line 1/4 of the way out of the left edge. Eventually, almost in seconds, the pain subsided and the red changed to blue, than a cyan as the top of is visor filled up to full.
"What..? Why don't I feel like someone took a sledgehammer to my chest?"
"You're a warrior of the Traveller, bullets don't kill you easily." This answer shocked him; I can't die easily? If that's so... More gunfire was traded, before the fog lifted around the two new companions. Even though the fight was somewhat easy, it was still important to find one more thing.
A ride off this sandy red rock.