The Tower, Residential Sector
The Last City 4:30pm
July 19, 3498 Anno Domini
The walls surrounding The Last City were huge, imposing, marble structures. Strong and immovable, they always provided me with a sense of security and pride. I was, after all, an instrumental part in ensuring they stayed standing. Covered in an assortment of scanners, artillery, missile batteries, and hangars, they were the humanities last defense. Many called the walls home, mostly military personnel and Guardians.
Feeling a weight fall on my body, I dropped out of half-space and materialized in the lobby of the residential district. Checking real quick that the teleportation hadn't eaten any of my groceries, I scanned my fingerprints, walked into the elevator, and pressed the button corresponding to my floor.
As the elevator moved me, I decided to check my orders. With a mental command, a little gold ball, about the size of a baseball, rematerialized and showed me my mission details. My ghost. His name was Snitch, reference to a series millennia old. The books were better.
My eyes perused the briefing. It was pretty standard. It would take place in the Antarctican Wastes. Hive then, gross. Every time you killed one, they would crumble to dust. It got everywhere and was nasty. A capture or kill order. Should be pretty easy. Hive don't surrender so I would have to put it in stasis, a visit to the armory for some freeze grenades then. Yikes, snow storms expected. Those got pretty nasty. If you weren't careful they could shave your armor and skin right off. As I got to the end of the orders, my eyebrows raised in surprise. The target wasn't a Hive, it was a Guardian by the name of Kara Nightly.
Oh shit, so that was what he meant. To say we were complicated was to simplify things. We met at her basic training graduation ceremony, then at a bar later that day, then many times after dealing with the fallout of that night. We tried to make us a thing but our differences were too big. For starters, she was city born, getting her ghost and light at a Choosing ceremony about 6 years back. I, on the other hand, was wilderness born, getting my ghost and my light under the wreck of an overturned semi-truck. She was raised by a loving family in the heart of the Last City, I was "raised" in the American Frontier getting torn apart by Fallen. She loved to research about the Light, I liked to shoot things. She loved the Crucible, I thought it was stupid. We ended things as friends, but as anyone who has been through a breakup, it's never that easy. Glances to each other in the bar, oddly intimate hang outs that never go anywhere. And now I was supposed to bring her in. Geez Kara, just what did you do?
My mind was still on my mission when I opened my door and noticed her. Faith Abernathy. I unconsciously bit my lip in frustration as I saw her wipe a very buttery hand all over my white leather couch. My brand new white leather couch. I walked in and set my groceries down on the counter.
"Really?"
She yawned, crumbs of popcorn falling from her mouth, "I know, I can't believe nothing's on the tv."
"No, "really" as in you using my couch as a napkin."
"Oh that," she waved her still buttery hand, "it's nothing. I wouldn't worry about it."
"Of course you wouldn't, it's not your couch."
"Mmhm." She mumbled, clearly not listening.
I chewed my lip some more as the sounds of her changing the channel cut through the silence. Man did she suck.
"Why are you even here? Didn't Zavala issue you a new apartment?" Last I remembered she broke her last one on a 3am caffeine crazed workout session.
"I did, but it's so empty. And also, Big Blue has been swamping me with work and I haven't the time to buy furniture. Plus you have food here."
I nodded my head, and for a brief moment felt a twinge of sympathy. Sympathy which I squashed down almost immediately. If it wasn't already obvious, I did not like Faith.
She was loud, destructive, and inconsiderate. If it were up to me, I would straight up tell her to fuck off and bother someone else. But it wasn't up to me. See, Faith was special. In just a couple years after her resurrection, she's defeated multiple high value targets including the prince of the Hive god and shard of the Darkness itself. Her meteoric rise was practically unheard of. People call her the Travelers Chosen. The next Saint-14. Due to her feats, the Vanguard propped her up to be the face of guardians everywhere. She was their poster girl.
Unfortunately, fame has a way of isolating you, even when you're surrounded by admiration. Sure, Faith was loved. The older Guardians respected her, saw flashes of their younger selves reflected in her swagger—a prodigy with skills sharp enough to match her ego. The younger Guardians worshipped her like a living legend, the way civilians might idolize a movie star or a singer. Some of them probably signed up because of her.
Her peers held her up as the shining proof that their generation was anything but soft—that all those old complaints about weakness and softness held no weight anymore.
But somewhere along the way, the love stopped feeling personal. Most conversations seemed to pass through a filter—expectation, adoration, envy—all of it clouding any chance at something real. People weren't seeing her; they were seeing the Travelers Chosen, the destroyer of the Black Heart, the god-slayer of Oryx, the first Young Wolf.
And in the quiet moments, when the noise died down, she'd wonder if anyone even knew the difference.
In other words, Faith was lonely. And one fateful day, we got assigned to the same strike team. We completed the mission without much trouble, and because I was a professional who understood military bearing, without much fanfare. Where normally one would ask for her autograph or a picture, I simply shook her hand and went on my way. Next week I got a message inviting me on another mission and before I knew it, she was crashing in my apartment and hanging out with me off the clock. With me, she could finally relax. She wouldn't be hounded to constantly duel or be invited to parties or Crucible matches. She could just sit on the couch and eat all my food while rotting in front of the TV.
I'm not really one for the lime light, and being close to her was more fame then I ever wanted. I would have put distance between us, but before I could do that the Vanguard contacted me.
I was already a black ops agent. I did the stuff that couldn't be directly traced back to the Vanguard, like say the capture or killing of a fellow Guardian, so when Faith forcefully befriended me they must have felt like Christmas came early. Someone would not only be a friend to their poster girl but also someone with total loyalty to them and who could be trusted to deal with her should she go rogue? How could they refuse?
So here I am. Stuck playing nice with an annoying, childish, inconsiderate idiot that just so happened to be the Travelers Chosen.
"He's more purplish than blue." I say dryly.
"I'm color blind," she replied. She probably thought that was hilarious.
I shake my head and let out a little laugh. It was a bit funny.
Man, this was brand new too . I rub a stain on the couch with my sleeve. It doesn't come off.
I give her head a push, maybe a bit harder than needed. "Sit up. You're taking too much space."
She was looking at me. Her eyes were a pale gray, almost white. They always unnerved me. Too piercing. Like they could see my soul.
"What?" I demanded.
"What?" she parroted.
"Why're you staring at me?"
"I'm not." she grinned. Another one of her little ways of annoying me.
She pushed herself up, allowing me to take the place where her head was. She reached for another handful of my popcorn.
"Yo Pax, you got another job."
Adrenaline spiked through me. The fuck? How did she know? Was it the eyes? I kicked myself internally. Of course it wasn't the eyes, idiot. If she ever knew what I really did, our "relationship" would be over and her trust for the Vanguard would be gutted.
Instead I spoke ever so casually, "How did you find out?"
"I have my ways," she said, smirking triumphantly.
Internally I breathed a sigh of relief. If she found out what I really did she wouldn't take it this well. I'm way too high strung sometimes.
"So," she said, chipper as ever, "what is it?"
"You know I can't tell you."
"Ooh, super important then. So…Nightfall?"
"No."
"Raid?"
"No, why do you care so much anyways…" I fire back. She's starting to annoy me.
"No reason. Just want to know is all." She tries to back away.
"What, you don't think I can take care of myself?" For some reason the thought about her worrying about me makes me mad.
"It's not that deep dude." She says with a tone of finality, shifting her attention to the TV and changing the channel.
I lean back in pyrrhic triumph. What was that all about, I ask myself.
"In other news, the Travelers Chosen does it once again. Reports from the Tower are coming in that our favorite Titan took down a Fallen Ketch all by herself. Stay tuned for exclusive footage of her daring deed!"
I whistle. "Damn, an entire ketch? By yourself?"
Faith shakes her head in modestly, but I can see her cheeks redden. She likes the praise, someone in her position has to.
"Nah, I had Zelt and Marrie. The news just likes to dramatize everything."
I nod, Zelt and Marrie were dependable. Older than Faith and I but not too much older. Zelt is a gun nut, oddly obsessed with anything Hakke and scornful towards Omolon. Marrie likes cats and knitting. They're a bit weird, but good people.
"You think they're mad they're left out of the story?"
"Nah, they're used to it, 'sides, I wouldn't work with them if that's what they cared about."
Faith keeps her face neutral, but I can tell she's upset. It's happened too much. Time to change the subject.
"Right, well I bought some steak at the market if you still have room."
She looks over to me with a hopeful smile. "Right now?"
I shrug. I did want to enjoy some alone time, but keeping Faith happy was more important. Because of my mission. "Uh yeah, it's about dinner time."
"It is?" She looks at her watch. "Huh, I didn't notice"
"What? How long have you been here?"
"I dunno, I lost count. C'mon, let's eat. I'm starving."
"Starving?" I shot a glance towards an open cupboard in the kitchen. "You've eaten like, 90% of my snacks!"
"Titan physiology. All my glorious muscles burn calories." she declared as she flexed her biceps.
I raised an eyebrow as I admired her. Titans were often called the Strength of Humanity and all one had to do was look at one to see where the title came from. All Titans were tall and broad with muscles rippling down their body. Unlike Hunters or Warlocks who were often lithe or trim, Titans were built. Faith herself was built like an old Greek (another dead culture) statue. 6ft 3in of pure muscle. I was quite short compared to her, coming in at 5ft 10in. Not that I was jealous. Of course not.
"I mean, we still need to cook it, " I said, pulling my eyes away from her body.
"Great! Let's do that," she chirped, quickly standing up and walking towards the kitchen.
As she was rustling through my groceries, my HUD pinged with a message with Cayde asking how Faith was. Pushing aside the question of how he knew we were together, I answered.
She ruined my couch.
Thumbs up.
I squinted. Cayde didn't even put an emoji, he just typed out "Thumbs up". This fucking guy.