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You know how when you start out the day, sneaking around Fallen as if they were blind, swiping anything that isn't tacked down, feeling like a million Glimmer? Then it gets to your head a bit and you mess up and one of the four-armed gremlins notices you, calls in more four-armed gremlins, and then it's off to the races?
That's the kind of morning I've been having.
You see, I don't plan on these things. The Golden Age power cell was just sitting there. And it was shiny. All I can say is that one moment I'm the king of stealth and the next, I'm the guy knocking over every bowl in the ramen shop.
I book it out of there, naturally. Smack dab in the middle of Fallen territory, and you expect me to stay and fight? I'm good, but I’m not that good. I lose them for maybe half a kilometer, and then I'm cornered. Hands in the air, back to the wall, the whole shebang. They’re hissing at me, waving their spears in my face, so ready to make me into metal Swiss cheese. I go for my gun and it's gone. My entire belt just up and left my waist. The closest one lunges at me and in my mind I'm prepping for a revive when suddenly— BANG!
Blue blood shoots out the side of his head and splatters onto the guy next to him. He turns towards the body and another shot rings out. He collapses. Another shot. Another shot. Another shot. One by one they're falling to the ground.
Then a pause.
The last one turns to the figure standing behind him and— BANG!
She watches as he falls. Smoke still wafts from the gun as she twirls it around her finger a couple of times before holstering it in the same motion. Only, the gun skips the holster and I can’t help but laugh when she struggles to catch it. When it thuds onto the dirt she doesn’t even go to pick it up. She just sighs.
“I take it that happens often?” I ask.
She turns to me, rubbing the back of her neck. “More often than I'd like it to, that's for sure.”
I nod. “I’ll give your rescue attempt a nine out of ten.”
She crosses her arms. “Only a nine? You're alive, aren't you?”
“Yes, but it's a mandatory point deduction for a dropped gun.”
She laughs. “So I can't get a half point back for being cool?”
I shrug. “Maaaybe?” She laughs again. I haven’t had this receptive of an audience since...well, since forever.
“How about half a point for this?” She throws something at me and I catch it. It's my gun belt.
“Where'd you find it?” I clipped it back onto my waist. It feels a little lighter than before. She points behind her.
“Got snagged on some exposed rebar couple meters back.”
Makes sense. I check my gun and she scoops up hers from the floor. My equipment seems to check out.
Just in time, too. My radar lights up, indicating Fallen coming in from all angles. I know she sees the same thing—her stance is tense, coiled like a spring. I nod to her and she nods to me before sprinting away. A flash of silver on her belt catches my eye.
It's the power cell. I'm about to go after her when an Arc ball comes flying straight at me. One dodge and bullet later, I'm up again, dashing in the direction she left in. Over the crest of the hill, there's no sign of her. Just a couple of muddled footprints. Damn!
I can't believe it. At the same time, I can. She's a Hunter after all. But I'm not one to back down from a challenge.
“You stole it!”
The tall Titan in green armor crosses his arms. I just shrug.
“He lost the privilege to own it when his belt fell off.”
A Warlock in purple and gold scoffs. “You robbed him and then left him to die? When did you get so cold?”
I pinch the bridge between my eyes. “Cold? You’re the Voidwalker here. I left him his gun, okay? The only thing I took was this.” I hold up the small cylindrical shape in my hand. The Titan shakes his head.
“He did all the hard work to steal it and you get to claim it?”
“Look Mr. Moral Compass,” I clip the power cell to my belt, “I saved his life, and returned his guns. He knows the rules out here. You should too.” He just shakes his head and leaves with a huff.
Tristan’s mood recovers by dinner and he can't stop talking about the possibilities of adapting the power cell to Sparrows, Titan jump packs, basically everything he can think of. Firza chimes in occasionally with suggestions based on what he's learned from the Archivists. I talk about potential bomb designs. Well into the evening, my fireteam is yawning and they both retire to their bedrolls inside my jumpship. I turn off the lamps in camp as a courtesy.
Our camp is three folding chairs and a couple of crates around my ship. I always park in a clearing, a place where the crowns of the leaves decide to part ways and open to the sky. The stars are clear and crisp tonight, and it’s nights like these that make me glad to be an Exo. I hardly need sleep, and when I do, it’s more like shutting down extraneous functions—meditation or a trance—rather than being completely unaware. I can still take in the freshness of the air, the sounds that waft through the limbs of the trees…
...The rustling of someone sneaking into camp? My hand slowly moves to my handle of my gun, fingers moving just enough as not to be detected. One by one my systems power back on, but I keep absolutely still. My eyes are last and I keep them closed.
A small clatter just to the right of me. I recall the layout of the campsite. Whoever it is, they seem to be rummaging through our food stores. A couple moments of searching and they move on to the next crate. They'll be disappointed if they look in that box. It's Tristan’s stash of odd-looking jerky.
A couple moments later and I hear a voice whisper, “Damn.” I have to push my laughter down. Now I know it's either a scavenger or some Guardian scavenging. Either way, they can have some of our food.
The footfalls are very quiet, very precise. Feels like a Hunter. They're getting closer to me. I don't like that. Maybe they're not here for food. My hand closes around the grip of my gun. Only, it's not my gun. I open my eyes.
There I am, reclined in a chair, holding hands with the very Hunter I met this afternoon. I can't see his face behind his helmet, but the odd sound that comes out of his mouth confirms he was just as surprised as me.
A moment passes before I speak. “Ah, you noticed.”
“Of course I noticed,” he replies. “It’s not nice to steal, you know.”
“It’s not nice to show up unannounced, you know.”
He scoffs. Or was it a chuckle? “I feel like one of those is the larger offense.”
“Well we could talk logistics all night, or you could try stealing it back again,” I say.
“Sounds like a plan,” he replies. This time I know he’s laughing.
I let go of his hand and stand up, eyes never leaving his form. He settles into a ready stance and I’m watching, waiting for him to move.
He lunges forward and I’m caught off-balance by his speed. I catch myself before I fall and he darts towards me again. I roll out of the way, dumping a chair into his path. He sidesteps it and is at my heels almost immediately. His movements are precise and graceful. Was this really the same cornered Hunter from earlier?
Fortunately with his next lunge, I’ve adjusted to his speed. He rushes at me with both hands this time, and I leap backwards, just out of his reach. He sprints forward again, and I dodge him by letting him pass behind me. A mistake. He grabs my arm on the way over, turning and reaching for my belt while pulling me towards him. It almost feels like dancing.
I use the momentum to get behind him instead. I hook my arm around his and jam my knee into the back of his. We fall together, and I pin him to the ground face-first.
“Nice try,” I say, keeping my weight on his back. “I'll give your attempt a nine out of ten.”
He chuckles. “Only a nine? You sure?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Mandatory point deduction for not reaching your goal.”
“Understandable. But are you sure about that?” He does his best to look at me from underneath my knee. There’s a playful smugness in his voice and realization dawns on me. I glance to my belt to find it missing something.
As if on queue, he manages to use his free arm to push himself off the ground, tipping me off of his back and onto the dirt. I watch from the ground as he stands and dusts himself off. He throws something from one hand to another, silver glinting off of it in the starlight.
He clips it to his belt. “Mind amending that score of yours?”
I scoff and look away, arms crossed. “No. Still a nine.”
“Don’t be mad.” He extends his hand towards me. “Negativity doesn’t suit you.”
I glance at his hand. “Being cool doesn’t suit you.”
He laughs. “Ouch! My poor ego.” He shakes his hand. “C’mon, get up.”
I hesitate, but take his hand firmly. He pulls me off the ground. The power cell glimmers in my peripheral and I have to keep myself from going for it. I’m not a sore loser, but I can’t help the disappointment rising in my chest. He puts his free hand under my chin and tilts my face towards him. I must’ve been staring at his belt too hard.
“Y’know, you can always try stealing it back.”
I shake my head. “You got that fair and square. I’m just sad to see it go.”
“Well I’m glad there’s still honor among thieves.”
“Thieves? Who said I was a thief?”
“You just did.”
I push him away but there’s a smile in my eyes, and I know he can see it. But I don’t mind.
“It was fun, Hunter,” I say to him. “We should do this again sometime. You’ve got some nice moves.”
“Could say the same for you. Wouldn’t mind teaming up. See you in the Wilds?”
I nod. “See you in the Wilds.”
With that, he leaves. I watch as he disappears into the shadows of the trees, listen until his footfalls can no longer be heard, wait a few more minutes for good measure. My Ghost flies out of my pack.
“You are a thief,” Astrophel chirps to me. His tone isn’t scolding. In fact, it’s not surprised at all. I chuckle, throwing up a small silver object and catching it. I hold it up in my palm and the little bot looks it over. It’s a silver-plated poker chip, embossed with the ace of spades all over it. I run my thumb over the surface.
“Couldn’t just let him get away so easily, Astro. C’mon, you know me.”
The Ghost rolls his eye in a dramatic disapproving gesture. I gently tap him on the top with my fist. I’m glad I’ve got a Ghost who understands.
“Why don’t we,” he says, “clean up a bit before the organics wake up?”
That nickname still makes me laugh. I nod.
“Sounds like a plan.”