Some kind of trouble is coming
Don't know when, don't know what
I will stand with you, brother
'Till the daylight comes or I'm dead and gone
Brother - Lord Huron
June 04, 2960; The Last City, Earth
"Hurry," Azra hissed on the comms.
"If I hurry, I'll look suspicious," Cayde said easily. He moved through the hangar at a pace that was less of a walk and more of an amble. He slouched, hand in his pockets. It was maddening.
Azra waited nervously as he meandered along. It seemed he had a dozen better things to do than to get onto Azra's ship. He checked his chicken's food dish. He stopped to chat up a mechanic. He slowed to side-eye the Sparrow that Amanda Holliday was elbow deep in.
"Come on, Cayde," Azra begged. "It'll look suspicious if I overstay my takeoff clearance. I think Zavala's wising up that I'm the one that keeps helping you sneak out."
Finally, finally, Cayde strolled his way to the open side of the hangar where the ready ships waited to lift off. He rubbernecked like a Kinderguardian, gawping up at the sleek vessels.
"You have sixty seconds before we're leaving without you," Azra warned.
"Relaaaaax," came Cayde's drawled reply.
He nodded at a passing technician, scrutinized an old Phaeton-class ship like it was familiar to him, then strolled up Azra's ramp, as cool as could be.
Azra hurried to close the ramp and ready the engines, though Cayde was already out of sight of the public. He meandered his way into the cockpit and let himself fall into the copilot's chair. "See? Nobody was looking," he bragged.
Azra was already pulling back on the yoke. Cayde has just enough time to straighten himself out and reach for his safety belt before she put on the gas. The ship shot off through City airspace.
"So," Azra said once they had cleared the Tower's jurisdiction, "what exciting event have I spirited you away for this time?"
"Take a look," Cayde said, flicking over a holographic projection. Azra let the autopilot take over and leaned back. "Prison riot?" she asked skeptically, swiping through the report. Petra Venj had sent this personally. It was bare-bones and pretty useless- there was no pertinent information besides one brief paragraph. Apparently, several cellblocks in the Prison of Elders had broken containment and the resulting chaos was spreading like wildfire.
"Cabal, Hive, and Fallen," Cayde bragged. "Should be a couple Vex thrown in the mix for you, too."
"I always said shoving all these enemies of Humanity in a cage together was a bad idea," Azra said dryly. She retook the wheel as they approached the outer Asteroid Belt. Autopilot always had a hard time making its way through the debris.
"The Awoken have their reasons," Cayde said. "Though I'm not gonna complain if you rub it in Petra's face a bit."
Azra considered it for a second. But Petra Venj was… intense. Best not to provoke her unneeded. Azra just shrugged.
"She's your type," Cayde guessed.
"What?" Azra said, nearly swerving the ship into an asteroid.
"Purple hair," Cayde reasoned. "That's it, isn't it?"
"No," Azra said, trying to not sound too scandalized. "I'm taken, in case you haven't noticed. Me 'n Veera have a nice thing going." She stabilized the ship and began the usual ducking and weaving required to make it into the Asteroid Belt in one piece. "Besides, it doesn't seem like Petra has space in her life for a relationship. She's too busy being wrapped around the Queen's little finger. Or she was, before the Queen died."
"Like you're not wrapped around my little finger?" Cayde jabbed playfully.
Azra shot him a look that made it clear she'd stab him if she didn't have her hands full steering the ship.
June 04, 2960; Prison of Elders, Reef Space
They transmatted down into the entrance walkway. Azra had been here many times before, turning in bounties and intel and the like. It wasn't a side of the Prison most Guardians saw. The games had taken place on a higher deck. Meanwhile, Azra's distaste for the gladiator matches had kept her far away from the upper levels. Her only point of contact was the working side, down in the dirt with everyone else.
The two Hunters walked down the pathway confidently. It was a Tower-style stroll, an unhurried pace that played out a loose-limbed confidence. Cayde led the way, walking like he owned the place. Azra followed a step behind and to his right.
"Petra Venj," Cayde said in a warm greeting once they were close enough. "Thanks for the invite." He came to a stop, Azra following suit beside him. All this showing-off wasn't something she usually did, but it practically instinctual to follow Cayde's lead. Azra shifted her weight, Mythoclast held casually over one shoulder. It was easy to radiate cool confidence with Cayde's whiskey-leather-poker chip Light shining next to hers.
It was a grimy, dim place, a real fit for the 'ruler' of the Tangled Shore. Normally, Azra would slouch or scuff her shoes, do something to make her seem more of a fit to for this place of lowlifes. Today, she walked into the Spider's lair with her head held high. It wasn't just pride that kept her chin up, or an air of confidence- she was angry. It put some real steel in her spine.
"Whatcha packin' for this party?" Cayde asked. He was laying on the butter a bit thick, but who could blame him? He'd be relishing every second of this. Trips out of the Tower were a rare treat, combat missions doubly so.
Petra Venj shrugged, pulling a wicked-looking knife from her belt. "The usual," she replied casually. Azra noted a sidearm on her hip along with several other concealed knives, but no long gun. Of course, this being an indoor prison, long-range wasn't necessarily the most important consideration. Not everyone had a Ghost to keep a dozen guns ready for use.
"Oooh! Do the thing!" Cayde urged. He nudged Azra with an elbow. "Watch this."
Petra opened her palm and the knife twirled in the air, untouched. It was a rather powerful display of the Awoken's (usually) weak telekinetic abilities. Petra snatched the knife back from the air in a whiplike motion.
Cayde let out an exaggerated shiver. "That'll never not freak me out." The liar- his optics were alight with glee. "Do it again!" he urged.
Both Azra and Petra rolled their eyes. "Later," Petra said. "Maybe." She re-sheathed the knife, settling her shoulders in a way that meant business. "Right now, gen-pop is running wild. Fortunately, the main area and lower levels remain on lockdown. But if the core security systems fail…" She cast a nervous look over her shoulder, up at the Prison's core. "Containment is going to be… a problem." 'Problem' sounded like an understatement.
"Just another day at the office," Cayde commented. He didn't sound very upset at the news- quite the opposite, in fact.
And Azra? It seemed an interesting enough mission in her judgement. No use bothering with stealth, the best bet was going in guns blazing. It'd be fun. She could already hear the riot from here- a dull roar punctuated by muffled gunfire. "Call it, boss," she said. They should get moving.
Cayde slid the Ace of Spades from his holster, flicking the chamber out with a liquid ease. "How 'bout… I take the upper levels, you take the floor, and the last one to the security hub buys dinner?"
"A race, huh," Azra said, feigning skepticism.
"Try to keep up," Cayde teased. He loaded his gun and flicked it closed again. The Light shone with his enthusiasm. He was going to milk this for every drop it was worth. "Now. Let's go to prison!"
Azra rolled her eyes again but couldn't help grin as Cayde casually jumped off of the walkway. If it was a race he wanted, it was a race he was going to lose. Azra readied her own weapon and went charging in after him.
It was the best kind of chaos. Things were on fire. The combatants were too busy fighting each other and running around trying to steal things to realize what trouble they were in.
Cayde crashed through the prisoners and sent them scattering like dead leaves. He was having the time of his life. He shot his Ace of Spades dry and reloaded it, threw a grenade here and there, knifed anyone who thought they could sneak up on him. Even the heftier subjects didn't have much chance- he'd brough a rocket launcher. Those were fun in enclosed spaces. He managed to keep up a running commentary, jokes and insults spilling out stream-of-consciousness.
Maybe he was a little too enthusiastic about the mission. He could hear the exasperation in Petra's voice on the feed. (Though she was obviously enjoying herself too; she'd been a similar position as he was, having been cooped up recently with too much busywork). She still seemed to be taking her role as 'team sane person' seriously, nagging them to not get distracted.
Azra, on the other hand, was having just as much fun as Cayde. She answered every one of his quips with a retort or a sly comment. When Cayde started a killcount, she began one of her own, reporting her increasingly ridiculous numbers with such smugness that Cayde just straight-up gave in and stopped counting. He kept himself happy in the knowledge that he was winning their race, if only modestly.
The upper levels had a very commanding view of the floor. Cayde had enough time to take a moment here and there to appreciate his partner in crime. In theory he'd seen plenty of footage of Azra recently- piggybacking on her feed was a common pastime of his. But POV was one thing, and this birds-eye-view another. Combat feeds could never capture the whole of a Guardian's experience. They couldn't keep up with the insane economy of movement the truly skilled fighters displayed. Azra always seemed to be doing five things at once, cycling between different weapons and reloading them and lobbing grenades and snapping her Arc Staff out to deal with more stubborn customers- not a single millisecond was wasted. It looked choreographed, like a well-rehearsed dance. It was poetry, as far as Cayde was concerned.
He had to wonder if Andal Brask hadn't been a bit of a psychic back in the day. Hundreds of Kinderguardians had passed through their notice over the years, and the two he'd gotten invested in were 1) the technology genius/Fallen genius/firearms genius/okay-just-plain-genius Shiro-4 and, 2) the Arcstrider currently laying waste to an entire prison's worth of combatants below him. She was a force to be reckoned with. Actually, scratch that- she couldn't be reckoned with. She was almost keeping up with Cayde even though she was dealing with twice the number of enemies he was.
It was nice to be able to watch. Cayde had complained enough, as every Hunter Vanguard had, about being cooped up in the City. He understood now that it wasn't just the committee meetings and the review sessions. It wasn't even just the lack of action. He enjoyed a nice thorough lounging around in his day. The real agony was being stuck behind screens and feeds while his Hunters were out there doing things and getting into real danger while he couldn't do anything to help. Beyond that, his Pack always seemed to be involved in high-stakes conflicts. Made for more than a few tense days back at home, sitting around waiting for news.
Shiro he managed to not worry about as much. He had the Iron Lords to watch after him, and he was a proper cautious sort. Azra on the other hand seemed to have acquired a tendency to throw herself into the biggest messes around without a second thought for her own wellbeing. It was vexing.
Well, Cayde admitted to himself, he knew in his heart that it wasn't that simple. Azra could just get focused sometimes, swept up in whatever emergency she was dealing with and only on looking back realizing how much she'd been hurting. She was much too good at compartmentalizing personal feelings so they wouldn't get in the way of her work.
But that's what was nice. She was right there. If she got in a bind, she didn't have to struggle to pull herself out alone.
Speaking of binds: an absolutely massive Hive Knight shouldered its way out of the throngs and moved out of Cayde's level onto an overhead walkway. With its Boomer it threatened everything both on its level and below it. Unfortunately Azra had just finished dealing with a group of Cabal and suddenly found herself alone and exposed on the Prison floor.
She scrambled for her heavy weapon, but Cayde was already there. He slid out on the walkway behind the Knight and sent three shots from his Golden Gun straight up into it. Burning bits of Hiveflesh scattered like confetti. "What's this?" Cayde said, peering down at Azra like he'd only just noticed their relative positions. "I'm actually winning?"
"Had to set yourself up with the easy option," Azra half-griped. Despite her complaint, she still couldn't keep the smile out of her voice. "Every enemy you miss or knock off gets funneled straight down to me."
"You know if I'd put you up here you'd just engineer some spectacular way to fall off," Cayde teased. He tossed a grenade over his shoulder, taking out a pack of Warbeasts galloping towards their position. "You're just not used to being shown up by someone actually competent."
Azra raised her Scout Rifle, thought-quick, and picked off a Tracer Shank that had been preparing to fire on Cayde's unguarded back. "Watch your six," she said cheekily.
The Exo narrowed his optics at her. "Touché," he said.
Azra looked at him, then behind him to the now-conveniently-cleared floor, then back up at him.
Then she sprinted forward, leaving Cayde to scramble to keep up, shouting about fouls.
TYPE: LIVE COMBAT FEED
PARTIES: Four [4]. One [1] Guardian-type, class Hunter, designate Cayde-6 [c6]; One [1] Awoken-type, class Queen Regent, designate Petra Venj [pv]; One [1] Guardian-type, class Hunter, designate Azra Jax [aj]; One [1] Ghost-type, designate Spark [s]
ASSOCIATIONS: Cayde-6; Chekris, Kings Baron; Cosmodrome (Earth); Jax, Azra; Old Accra (Earth); Prison of Elders; Venj, Petra
/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS…/
[c6:01]: Tech support… with extreme prejudice!
[c6:02]: Well, everything is where it's supposed to be, but not it's asking me for some kind of secondary activation?
[pv:01]: The terminal in any satellite security hub should work.
[aj:01]: I'll go look around for one, I guess. Coming with, Cayde?
[c6:03]: Oooh. Yeah. You know, I would, but this place has security turrets and I really wanna shot them.
[aj:02]: Oh no.
[pv:02]: What.
[s:01]: Well, it's just…
[aj:03]: There is a house rule that Cayde isn't allowed to handle any artillery.
[c6:04]: Shush, you.
[pv:03]: Do I need to ask why?
[aj:04]: Oh boy, where to start?
[c6:05]: It's been years! Decades!
[aj:05]: Nuh-uh, Shiro told me about that time in Old Accra-
[c6:06]: I hit the tank! Three times!
[s:02]: Sure you did.
[c6:07]: The shells were just duds.
[aj:06]: And the Devils Skiff in the Cosmodrome?
[c6:08]: The sights were misaligned.
[aj:07]: You know, they say a poor tradesman always blames his equipment.
[c6:09]: We'll see how reliable your equipment is when it's been left out in the elements for a few good centuries.
[aj:08]: I think I like what happens when it does work even less. He has a knack for accidentally finding ammo depots.
[c6:10]: That was once!
[aj:09]: Three times.
[c6:11]: Three? Really?
[aj:10]: That hole in the Cosmodrome Wall counts.
[c6:12]: Hey, that's a good hole!
[aj:11]: Useful hole or not, you still ended up spooking Kings back into their hidey holes. Took weeks to track down that Baron again.
[pv:04]: Would you two stop bickering? The security system won't come back online until it gets a secondary activation.
[c6:13]: Right. Azra, better get on that.
[aj:12]: All by myself?
[c6:14]: I've got some artillery to handle.
[aj:13]: You're lucky you're in there where I can't get to you.
[c6:15]: You're lucky I'm not going to take a few shots at you with my shiny new turrets.
[s:03]: I'm sure we'll still manage to get hit by one anyway.
[c6:16]: Counterpoint: I'm in charge and I'm ordering you to go. Shoo.
All missions came to an end eventually. They might have been able to drag this one on for another few hours, but Cayde and Azra were just too damn good at their jobs. They wrapped up the riot nicely and had the security system back online in record time.
Cayde at least seemed satisfied with his outing. "Ramen's on me," he announced on the feed (even though he had technically won the race- if only by cheating and gaining outside assistance (in the form of a free ride) from a very confused Shank.)
"Looking pretty good down here," Petra reported. "Just have to check one last thing."
Azra looked around her security hub. "Prison's pretty trashed," she noted. Half of the architecture seemed to be damaged; there were major electrical issues as well if the flickering lights were anything to go by. And besides, the fire suppression systems had yet to come online. She knew this because there were still several patches of fire she could see outside of the window.
"No, no!" Petra suddenly growled on the feed. It was so forceful Azra's heart jumped. "Cayde, He's gone. It's not a prison riot, it's a prison break!"
Shit. If Max Security had slipped containment- there were some very nasty customers now running free. Azra knew that Skolas had been dealt with (his escapades trying to invoke the power of the Vault of Glass were still fresh in her memory), but there were dozens of high-level commanders down there. Barons, Primuses… and, Azra remembered with horror, a wayward Awoken Prince.
"He's gone? Meaning Uldren's gone?" Azra asked urgently. She hadn't been there when Cayde had brought him in, she'd only learned about it after the fact. And she hadn't considered it much of her business what Petra wanted to do with him. Apparently he'd been crazy as a bat and hallucinating. But if he got out in his state (and had the wherewithal for it) he'd throw the entire Reef into chaos.
"You told her about Uldren?" Petra nearly shrieked on the feed.
"Not the time!" Cayde called. "Focus!"
"Right," Petra said. "The airlock on Deck Zero. It's the only way out this far down. They're going to escape."
"Not if I get there first," Cayde vowed.
Azra had started looking for a way out as soon as Petra mentioned Deck Zero- she was on Deck Twenty Four herself. She didn't see any good exits. The little hub she was in now had taken quite a beating; out of the four doors into the hub, the only functioning one was the one she'd come through, and that led back towards the higher levels of the prison. Door 2 was dented like tin foil. Even if the mechanisms were working, it would never be able to open. Door 3 was dead- no lights, not so much as a twitch when she tried to activate it. Door 4 was jammed somehow, only opening a foot before aborting and trying to shut again. The singular window was of a high-strength polymer- Golden-Age tech. Anything that could bust it would also probably bust the hub off of its supports. Azra left her Ghost to figure out what its issue was with Door 3 as she tried to pry open Door 4 enough to squeeze through.
She'd gotten her shoulders through and was working on her armored torso when she heard the shots. Bam… bambambambam. Golden Gun. She knew the cadence well enough- Cayde sighting his target and then unleashing hell on it. What the was he doing? Why wasn't he running for one of the elevators?
Spark transmatted the armor off of Azra and she slithered through the gap onto walkway outside. She took a hasty few seconds to re-armor herself, only looking around when she was properly kitted. She was on a ringed catwalk around the main interior shaft of the Prison. Security was back up. Prisoners were being forced to take shelter back in their cells or be shot down by the Prison's automated turrets.
Where was Cayde?
Azra didn't have any time to make a plan. There was a trembling in the ground. A whipcrack sounded out- something under high pressure had snapped.
Exactly what became obvious as the debris came plummeting down the Prison's shaft. It was massive- an air treatment plant, Spark thought? And on fire. Its support cables were trailing behind it in the air as it fell.
Oh, and Cayde was riding it, clinging to a loose rope and saluting with his gun. Azra could only stare dumbfounded as he careened past. Was he trying to destroy Deck Zero?
An explosion rocked the catwalk. Smaller chunks of metal and rebar were raining down in the wake of the treatment plant. Cayde's 'vehicle' bounced back and forth, rocking the entire Prison's structure. It smashed through dozens of support beams and walkways as it fell. There was a shriek as some scaffolding holding up Azra's walkway snapped.
Then: impact. Azra felt the shock first, vibrations racing through the solid metal she was standing on, then the sound of the explosion reached her a moment later. A burst of flames erupted, shooting up the shaft, causing Azra stumbled back in surprise. A cloud of dust rushed up, swallowing the fire whole.
The ground under Azra's feet crumpled. There was no time to think. She lunged for something more stable, a solid-looking support still in its moorings. But the walkway twisted, and-