Felix's eyes drift open to the sight of a crumpled, broken bank of lights, switches and navigational equipment, bathed in a soft, flickering orange light. A ship's cockpit. His ship's cockpit.
Fighting through the stiffness in his muscles, he struggles to lift his head, the movement driving a blinding spire of pain through his temple. Vision going white, he fights through a wave of violent vertigo, the small, ruined interior of his ship spinning wildly around him. With a grunt of effort, he blinks away the involuntary tears that fill his eyes, gaze dragging back and forth across the limited view before him as he tries to focus his hazy mind enough to gather his bearings.
Small things. Focus on what's here. Figure out what's going on.
He was in his ship, that much he could tell. Guessing by the smashed controls, the bent paneling, exposed wires, and misshapen form of the cockpit, he'd crashed. Why is a question for later.
He's upside down, which could explain the lightheadedness. But the weakness, the feeling of lead in his bones, that wasn't normal. Every movement was a struggle, as if his limbs were being dragged through a thick syrup. He hadn't been resurrected, or Ghost would have transmatted him outside the wreckage. But why hadn't he healed Felix before now? Where was he anyway?
Something's wrong. Something is very, very wrong,
"Spark… Spark, where-" The Guardian's weak croak was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing. He has to get out of the ship, away from the smoke, it's remarkable that asphyxiation hasn't gotten him already.
Mustering all his strength, Felix draws his hands to his chest, fingers fumbling to find the seatbelt release, finally hooking in the mechanism and pulling outward, releasing the clasp. With a weak cry, he slips free of the straps, arms covering his head as he drops onto the ceiling in a crumpled heap. Pain shoots through his shoulder as he rolls onto his stomach, a low groan escaping him, the impact causing his vision to swim, the world melding into a blur of color.
He's down, step one completed. Now to find a way out.
Shakily shifting his weight onto his elbows, the Guardian drags himself across the metal surface towards the rear of the cockpit. Determined to reach salvation, his eyes struggle to focus on the release lever for the ship's emergency exit, which floats back and forth across his vision as he mentally urges himself forward, every inch he moves draining him of the little energy he has left.
Hazy questions and images float through his mind. Fragments of the past that are struggling to fit back together to recreate the whole picture. What happened to him? Why is he so weak? All he remembers is the Cabal attacking the City. He rushed to the hangar to engage them in aerial combat, took out a few ships after going airborne, watched as a massive machine was placed on the Traveller, and then… Nothing. He doesn't know what happened to his fireteam, or the City, or the Vanguard, or their prized Guardian—the one person who could have possibly repelled that sort of assault. He doesn't know what happened to his home, the only place in the entire Solar System where he knew he belonged.
Lost deep in thought, Felix hadn't even realized he'd reached his destination until his hand comes down on the lever, drawing him back to reality. Curling a vice grip around the metal bar, he calls upon all his available strength to wrench it to the side, the heavy metal door swinging down into the open air beneath the ship, its weight dragging the Guardian out of the vehicle and dumping him unceremoniously to the ground with a heavy thud. Felix gasps as the air is knocked from his lungs, leaving him writhing and gulping for breath in the dirt, the world once again spinning at a dizzying around him, the burning spike being driven into his temple once again.
After he manages to get his breathing under control, Felix remains splayed out on the ground for an undetermined amount of time, perhaps it had been a minute, perhaps an hour, he didn't know. He simply lays there, staring up at the thin sliver of night sky he could see past his ship, lost completely in his own mind, the once fuzzy fog of thoughts roaring into a whirlwind, questions, and fear, and even more questions whipping through his consciousness, before finally… He was calm. His mind returning to perfect clarity, the pain melting away, and the world suddenly snaps into focus,
"Felix…" A soft voice whispers, the tone metallic, almost robotic, but with inflections of pain setting it apart from the machines of the Tower.
Slowly lifting himself into a sitting position, the Guardian glances around the darkened landscape around him, the flicker of flames from his ship providing enough light for him to find he was in a forest, the trees casting long, ominous shadows in every direction around him,
"Felix, are you all right?..."
Rising to his feet, the man moves slowly towards the source of the voice, his chest tightening with emotion when he finally lays his eyes upon the small machine, its blue core flickering weakly, angular shell bent and cracked,
"Spark… Spark, buddy, what happened to you?" Felix questions gently as he crouches down before the fallen Ghost, hands sliding beneath it to lift it from the grass,
"It's o-over, Felix. Th-Th-They took the C-City. They t-took our Light. We-e-e failed…" The little machine murmurs, its voice no more than a weak whisper, broken up by auditory stutters, "What a-a-are we going to do-o?"
The invasion, the Cabal, the aerial battle, the sudden weakness that had fallen over him, it all came rushing back to Felix like a runaway freight train, forcing him to drop heavily onto his rear. He'd passed out when the Traveller's power was dampened—Controlled—by the Cabal's massive machine. It seems he'd been fortunate enough not to get shot out of the air while he was incapacitated, and instead crash-landed beyond the bounds of the City.
He'd managed to regain most of his bearings, but he is far from having any sort of plan. He doesn't have any spare weapons or gear, any mode of transportation, or any of the powers upon which he'd relied so heavily in the past. He doesn't even know where his team is.
Andrew, Cyrus, Alyssa, Jagger, they're all out there somewhere, and he is acutely aware that without them, he doesn't stand a chance of surviving this war.
Glancing down at the crumpled, defenseless Ghost in his hands, Felix releases a soft sigh before turning his attention forward, towards the horizon. A distant, orange glow lit up the night sky, highlighting ominous pillars of smoke that rose up from what he could only assume was what's left of the City,
"We find the team. We make sure everyone's all right, and then… Then, I don't know."
"All we can do now is survive."