One final warning: Major Character Death impending.
It's only blood; I have plenty left
It's only blood; I just need to rest
I said I'd fix this
That I'd set things straight
You begged me not to
But I couldn't stay
Couldn't wait
All Is Well (It's Only Blood) – Radical Face
?
Azra Rose blinking in stupefaction.
"Welcome back," Spark said cheerily. "Comms are down."
"What the hell?" Azra asked. "Just… what?" She was sitting in what looked like a bombed-out section of the Prison, broken, dirty concrete and small fuel fires everywhere.
"I suppose Cayde wanted to cause some chaos down on Deck Zero," Spark theorized.
"He didn't wait for me," Azra complained. "What if I wanted to ride the air conditioning station?"
"You sound like a toddler," Spark scolded. "Get up, let's go find him."
Azra grumbled and hefted herself to her feet. There were still (probably) some high-level prisoners left trying to escape. If Cayde had caused enough chaos, perhaps they'd still be able to catch Uldren before he slipped. "Where even are we?"
"Deck Three," Spark answered. "What's left of it, anyway."
Azra looked around. The entire world seemed tilted, slightly off-kilter. There was only dim emergency power keeping the lights on. She was frankly kind of surprised the Prison was still holding atmosphere with how banged-up it'd become. "No time to waste, I guess," she said, pulling out her sidearm. "Any ideas for which way the elevator is?"
"…Right?" Spark guessed.
Azra shrugged. It was as good a direction as any. The door was even in working condition, a practical miracle after the explosion it had been through.
Past the interior bulkhead, things looked a bit more sane. This room still had structural integrity, though all of the prisoner cells were gaping open. "Great," Azra commented. There were still wisps of Ether trailing along the ground. "There's bound to be some mean Fallen stalking around here somewhere."
"Maybe?" Spark said. "This Ether seems weird."
Azra paused a second to scoop some off of the ground. It seemed less gaseous than normal Ether, dripping off of her fingers instead of just vaporizing. It was tinted a deeper shade of blue than usual, too.
And, Azra realized, it reeked of Darkness. Like stewing acid sludge and boiling diesel. Azra shook the stuff from her hand, disgusted. "What the hell?"
"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."
"Focus," Spark said. "Find Cayde first, ask questions later."
Azra wiped her hand on her pants and readjusted her grip on her sidearm. "You're right, let's go." They'd deal with the mean Fallen when they encountered them.
Azra ran.
She ran over catwalks and through maintenance tunnels. The Prison was nothing more than a confusing jumble of rooms now. Whole chunks had slid off of the superstructure and had fallen haphazardly into each other. Spark's map was of little use; most of the normal stairways or transports were choked with rubble or crumpled in on themselves. Azra sought any means of going down- air ducts, transport tubes, holes in the floor.
It was a kind of hell. Everything was burning, producing a smoggy black smoke that clustered around doorways and in the corners of rooms. The world was intermittently lit by emergency lights, the dim glow from open cells, and the fires.
And Hell was full. True to Azra's prediction, there were plenty of Fallen running free on the lower levels- but these Fallen were pale, grotesque figures. They wore threadbare leather armor, helmets, but no House colors or markings that Azra could make out. Their wounds leaked a noxious blue, tainting the air with a vapor that stank in Azra's Lightsense as much as it did her nose.
"What have the Awoken been doing down here?" Spark wondered. He was just as horrified by these zombie-Fallen as his Guardian was. They were twisted shells of what they once were, grumbling half-formed sentences in a warped Eliksni. They screamed wordlessly and attacked with brutal violence whenever they spotted the Guardian. Some of them were downright deranged, covered in oozing blue boils and lurching across the floor, screeching like Cursed Thrall.
It was Azra's turn to be the focused one. "Answers later," she promised, "when I can get my hands on Petra. After all the lectures I've received-"
Something happened. Azra stopped dead in her tracks. The world seemed to shiver for a moment, the Light whipping against Azra's skin like a sudden wind. She breathed in deeply, tasting ozone and burned hair and tangerine.
"That- oh, no," Spark whispered.
Azra had experienced a dying Ghost before, but never a familiar one, not so close. The Light waxed sweet with the sense of Sundance- warm firefly-filled nights and oranges and the easy simplicity of shuffling a deck of broken-in cards.
"If Cayde dies…" Spark started. He couldn't bear to say the next part out loud. He stays dead, he lamented silently.
He's good as dead, now, Azra though back. Even if he's physically fine… How long had she been standing here, staring dumbly at the wall? Half a second? Five? A whole minute?
Didn't matter. She shoved her gun roughly into its holster and took off. She thought she'd been running before- the floor seemed to fling itself away under her now. She found a ventilation shaft, fan blades jammed and creaking against debris, and didn't hesitate before throwing herself down it.
Deck Zero, Spark mentally confirmed as her feet touched the floor. The ground was covered in a thick layer of ash and soot. The only source of light was the dim illumination filtering through the air vent.
Petra mentioned the airlock, Azra thought. Which way?
Forward, Spark said. And not far. This should have been an antechamber of sorts- the loading bay was ahead, the airlock after that.
Azra didn't make it three steps before more zombie-Fallen scrambled in from the shadowed corners. She threw a grenade, scattering them. She started forward again, hoping to run past them to where the real action was, but a hulking creature lumbered out on an alcove and blocked her path. It was as big as an Ogre, faceless, with electricity crackling in its hands. It roared.
Azra did not have time for this. She summoned a Golden Gun and shot, piercing it through with… what was she feeling? Rage? Sorrow, already? Plain urgency? Her emotions hadn't quite caught up to her yet.
In any case, the abomination died, turned to ash. Azra made no delay racing for the door on the other side of the room. The tang of Dead Ghost was almost overwhelming now, drowning out the stench of Darknesss and twisted Ether.
Azra didn't quite know what she'd expected, but it hadn't been this. The door opened and the world seemed to freeze. There was Cayde prone on the ground. Across the room in the airlock was a collection of figures- Azra catalogued the giant Barons behind, eyes skipping right over them and onto Uldren. He was turned back, looking at her. The doors to the airlock were already closing.
Uldren raised his gun tauntingly. That was the Ace of Spades- its distinctive racing stripes were visible even under the muck, across the room. He'd looted Cayde's body-
Azra raised her gun, too, and pulled. Too late. She didn't have time to line up a good shot. Uldren flinched, automatically putting a hand to the shoulder that she'd grazed (it should have been his head that she'd exploded)-
-Then the airlock was closed.
Azra lowered her rifle, scrutinizing the door for just a second longer- but there were much more important things that needed her attention.
"You're late," Cayde rasped as she approached.
"You rode a giant bomb and you didn't invite me," Azra said.
Cayde vaulted out onto the main floor of the reactor room and strode over with his typical swagger. His voice, however, was soft in wonder. "It's true. You still have your Light."
"I have my Light again," Azra clarified. Anger was starting to fill where worry had left. Cayde had acted very recklessly here. He was lucky it was Azra that had come for him. Had it been someone less knowledgeable about the Vex he could very well have been stuck in that loop forever.
Cayde stopped up short when he caught her glare. "You're angry at me," he complained.
"You went and did Vexy things without me," Azra said, arms crossed. "And look what a mess it got you into. Alone."
"I'll be sure to next time," Cayde muttered. He didn't seem capable of sitting up.
He was… he wasn't looking good. Azra slung the rifle back over her shoulder and knelt over him, everything else forgotten.
"Y'know, I'm starting to think that you're just bad luck, Jax." Cayde wheezed, something in his airway rattling ominously.
Spark appeared to scan him. Azra already knew the bad news. She'd seen Cayde hurt enough to know when it was salvageable and when it would require a rez. But-
"I'm sorry," Spark said quietly. "There's nothing I can do."
There would be no rez. Sundance was gone. Azra felt absolutely helpless.
"This fuckin' sucks," Cayde groaned.
"I'm so sorry-" Azra started.
"'Nough of that," Cayde interrupted. "Got no time or mind to listen to you apologize for things ain't your fault."
"Should've run faster," Azra argued. "You shouldn't have been fighting alone-"
"Not. Your. Fault," Cayde said, gesturing violently with a finger pointed in her face. Azra just shrugged helplessly. Cayde coughed once, twice, then a small fit overcame him. He couldn't choke to death, Azra knew, but it didn't seem pleasant.
She wished there as something she could do- but her knowledge on first aid was mostly Human-focused. She couldn't fix his dented-in face or the servos in his shoulder that screeched every time he shifted the joint. Further down, several very serious things in his chassis had been smashed to bits. Oil and hydraulic fluid were spreading in a puddle on the floor like so much blood. Azra's hands hovered helplessly, wanting to act but not knowing how.
"'M not gonna make it," Cayde growled. "Know that enough. Gods, hardly have a system-" another round of coughing overtook him. He rolled onto his side. Azra worried- could she handle the Void enough to give him relief without outright killing him?
Didn't matter, it seemed. "Spare a bullet?" Cayde asked. He tried to sit up a bit, reaching instinctively for his hip- but his holster was empty. Of course. Uldren Sov had taken the Ace. "Here, gimme your gun," he demanded.
"Cayde," Azra protested.
"I'm taking my own way out," Cayde said in a tone that allowed no argument. "Not lettin' that bastard-" he wheezed, pain causing him to go speechless for a second. "Not lettin' him have the last laugh," he finished.
She had an impulse to say no. But that was selfish, wasn't it? This was his choice. And… this was the risk they faced on every mission, right? Who was she to drag out his suffering when he wanted to go? Tevis would be furious with her- well, he would have been if he were alive.
Azra gave in and removed her sidearm from its holster, checking to make sure the magazine was full and that it wouldn't jam on him. She tried to press the gun into his hand, but his arm spasmed and it went skidding across the floor.
She scrambled to collect it, screaming inwardly at the painful irony of it. I'm so sorry, Spark said silently. Sundance is gone, I can't-
I don't expect you to, Azra thought back. He couldn't fix this any more than she could.
She walked back over to Cayde, who was still on the ground. His fingers twitched as he tried to curl his hand into a fist. "I'll do it," she offered quietly. She couldn't sit here and watch him writhe in agony anymore.
Cayde let out a sigh of relief and sprawled back against the floor. "Thanks," he rasped.
She raised the gun to point at his head, but hesitated.
"It'll be alright," Cayde reasoned. "Everything'll work out." It didn't really sound like he believed it, but what other option did they have?
"Love you," Azra whispered.
"Love you too," Cayde wheezed. "And Shiro and all that. 'Kora and Zavala- they know."
He let his head fall back. "If it's someone taking me out," he murmured, voice just a crackling whisper, "I'm glad it's you."
Azra's finger tightened on the trigger. She froze for just a heartbeat- a heartbeat more of life, of the warm burn of his Light on her senses, of him existing-
One more heartbeat of his pained wheezing. Of screeching servos. One more heartbeat of suffering.
Azra pulled the trigger. One shot, then two echoed through the airlock. It was neat, professional.
And then Cayde-6 was no more.
Petra Venj came in several minutes too late. She ran into the room, expecting a fight, but everything was quiet. The airlock door was closed. Cayde-6 was on the ground, Azra Jax crouched over him. There were pale Fallen corpses everywhere, signs of a few explosions, but no Barons and no Uldren.
Petra waited for Cayde's Ghost to appear, for him to stir back into consciousness, but the seconds stretched on and her hope choked in her chest. That explosion of Light earlier…
Azra turned her head and looked up at Petra, eyes hidden behind her helmet. Petra could sense the shock and grief rolling off of her in waves. "I got all of the pieces of his Ghost," the Hunter said in a broken whisper. "We should go."
"No," Petra whispered in disbelief.
June 04, 2960; The Last City, Earth
Azra didn't know what to do. She flew back to the City, back to the hangar, and landed. There was no message of admonishment waiting for her, so either Zavala hadn't realized that Cayde had snuck out again, or he hadn't realized that Azra had helped him do it.
She gathered up Cayde's body, making sure all of the pieces of Sundance were still zipped into his pocket. He couldn't stay on her Jumpship. He needed to go… somewhere. But Azra didn't know where to go.
The ramp to her ship lowered before she could think of anything. She took one step forward, then another one.
His room, maybe? Should she commandeer a conference room for this? Surely not the War Room- nowhere public. It would cause chaos.
She'd never done this before. They hadn't even bothered to take Tevis's body back to the City when he died- what would be the point?
Wherever it was she needed to go, it wasn't the hangar. Azra took the last few steps down the ramp. The floor before her was bustling- people shouting back and forth, engines revving, Frames helping to move supplies and tools across the bay. It seemed so grotesque with Cayde's body in her arms. This atmosphere of happy business was an affront.
Cayde was dead.
A few people did double-takes, stopped to stare at her. There was a cut-off gasp to her left as she began to cross the bay floor.
"Traveler," someone muttered. "Is that-"
"My God."
"No!"
Conversation was rapidly dying. If Azra's face wasn't recognizable, or her cloak, then certainly people knew the body she carried. A collective creeping horror rose in the Light, itching against Azra's skin. It was hard to believe, but with the evidence being lugged across the room right in front of you…
Azra made eye contact with a Hunter, frozen at the edge of the crowd. Ashton was his name- he was from Dead End Cure. His face had gone dead pale under his freckles.
"Get Ikora," Azra ordered quietly. Ashton gulped, gave a quick nod, then turned and sprinted out of the room.
Azra walked much more slowly. Even after losing half of his fluids, Cayde was heavy. She wasn't carrying him in the easiest position, either, but she couldn't bear to just toss him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She felt the Void deep in her bones, steady and sure, and she knew she could carry him for however long she needed.
The crowd parted before her.
She walked.