Chapter Text
Are we really the same person as we were before our Ghosts? We have no memories of our previous lives. We have no name until we make one. The only thing we share is a face. All we are is a shadow and a remnant of a time since passed. Maybe we're the Ghosts after all.
The week following Midnight and Scylla's arrival at The Last City and the Traveler was a long one. It was perplexing for her to understand the concept of Light and its properties in both restoration and destruction. A group of Guardians, the Warlocks, tried to explain the many complexities of the world she'd sheepishly entered. The enemies of the Traveler, The City's hope for humanity, and the many duties of a Guardian. Though at first Midnight's mind raced, and she found herself uncomfortable, she agreed to stay and try to figure herself out.
She was debriefed about her arrival and resurrection, after describing the events with the 'Thrall' she was pronounced a Hunter.
Her Warlock teacher explained, "Hunters are our eyes in the solar system. They are wild explorers, cunning warriors, and excellent sharpshooters. They are the scalpel and the delicate fingers that guide it."
"Not to be rude," Midnight responded with a twinge of unease. "But I don't have good aim, I'm not the most cunning... I don't really know who I am or what I am good at."
"Perhaps this could be a good starting point for you then. Hunter's explore the whole solar system, perhaps you can explore who you are in the process... Anyway, that's it for the day. Have a good evening, Midnight." The Warlock left.
While she lingered in the tower, she discovered that while the world turned and the ages passed, the world, culture, and its people were all foreign to her. She found herself disassociated from the ones she was supposedly meant to protect. Why were her duty and destiny set before her by people who knew nothing about her? Most new Guardians face this challenge, and its something they can only solve themselves. Either way, she would have to begin somewhere, soon the Vanguard assigned her first-ever mission.
New Guardians are often paired up with fireteam leaders, often called Sherpas by fellow Guardians, that can teach them the ropes and keep them safe against deadly enemies. Midnight had been given the essential items by the Vanguard, some armor, a couple of weapons, and a quick land vehicle called a Sparrow. She planned on spending the night before her first mission training, primarily target practice.
Scylla didn't speak while she trained, she only watched curiously. Midnight seemed to be firing frantically, her shots were on no discernable beat, and she handled the pistol with a hint of frustration. Not wanting to interrupt her Guardian, Scylla remained in nervous silence as Midnight only continued to miss her target. Eventually, she grumbled beneath her breath and set the pistol to her side.
"What's wrong?" Scylla finally asked with a hint of what Midnight could only describe as concern.
"Why am I doing this...? Why are we doing this?" She sighed and rubbed her temple. "We owe them nothing. None of this world makes any sense... Why would the Traveler pick me? Why do I care what it thinks?"
"You should get some sleep, you've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow, Guardian." The Ghost looked at her for a moment before disappearing in a small flash of light.
Midnight looked around for a moment in relief that she was free of the prying specter that was determined to accompany her. Eventually, she resigned to rest, packing up her gear and walking down the corridor. Even though it was still night, there were still Guardians here in spades late at night. Some compared weapons, painted their armor, bought from the vendors, or sat around and talked with one another. 'How could they all be living like this?' The thought pushed through her mind.
Eventually, she made it to the Guardian Barracks. It was surprisingly empty as it had been her first night, only a couple of bunks were occupied. Most Guardians must have their own hideouts, she guessed. This part of the city was quite old, it seemed. The Barracks were dusty and creaked as if they were centuries old. The bunks were rustic, of course, but they looked well kept by whoever took care of the building. Midnight set her gear and backpack in a locker adjacent to the bunk she'd chose and closed it before sitting on the edge of the mattress.
After a moment of taking in her surroundings, she settled herself under the blanket provided to her. The bed squeaked and swayed slowly as she tried to doze off, and she tossed and turned for almost an hour before the exhaustion finally claimed her, and she passed out in the bunk.
Midnight's dreams were of no comfort either, knowing so little about the monsters and overwhelming odds she as a Guardian faced only seemed to twist what should have been relaxing fantastical adventures in her subconscious into vivid nightmares. The horrors of the solar system, Fallen, Hive, Taken, Cabal, Vex, how could they ever hope to fight armies on their own? How had they won so far? Nothing made sense to her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Midnight opened her eyes to the vague surroundings of a street near dusk. The light of the sun distant and leaving the cityscape around her in a cloudy, murky shape. She stood to look around, she wore armor like that of a steel-clad behemoth. It weighed her down as she turned to examine the skyline. New Chicago. Suddenly she heard something close behind her. She turned abruptly and instinctively, a rifle in her hands and fired.
The several shots were deafening and rang in her ears like the loud smacking of a war drum. Her eyes adjusted back to the dim surroundings, and Midnight froze where she stood. Before her was a woman and a young girl, blood beginning to flow from their wounds. It was only then the ringing in her ears faded to hear the bloodcurdling scream of the girl. She dropped the rifle and looked at her hands, they were covered in blood. Midnight screamed now too.