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And she took another step forward.
Another step over the fallen. Hundreds upon hundreds of bodies. The snow slick beneath her, stained a swirl of umber and jet.
And she took another step forward.
Another step under the night sky, those shining rings spanning a thousand miles above, still, silent. The black sands beneath the snow shift beneath the weight of the blood.
And she took another step forward.
Another step toward the stone tower. A thousand miles in the distance, and now she could almost touch it. The doors are just in arms reach.
And she took another step forward.
Another. She raises her gun slowly, her arms shaking, those artificial eyes trembling. She's so close, she can almost…
The little light in its ivory coffin blinks at her, and it speaks in that soothing electronic voice. Gently, like a mother soothes a crying child.
“It's okay. I understand.”
If she could cry, she would.
“It's okay, dear. I still love you.”
If.
“I'll always love y-”
And she takes another step forward.
When you die a thousand times, you become desensitised to it. But a death - a true death - is a different enemy entirely. These waters run deep, as it was with the death of Cayde-6, the fourth Hunter Vanguard. They're really burning through these guys, huh? No wonder nobody wants the job.
When the news broke, somber silence fell over the tower. Voices hushed in respect of the life of one of the greatest guardians the Last City knew, a stark contrast to the noise and bustle of the streets and back alleys far below. It's in these streets that our story starts proper - in particular, a bar stowed away out of sight. A frequent haunt of the Tower's Guardians, especially in a time like this. A drink to Cayde.
Thwak! The sound of splintering wood against a metallic skin cuts through the music and chatter, as a body slumps over and hits the floor hard.
“You take that back , you fuckin’- you bastard!”
He stands red-faced over the body, a crowd gathering around him and the other, panting heavily and clutching the remains of a previously-quaint bar stool. The person on the floor tries to push themselves up off of the ground with one arm, spitting black liquid onto the floorboards. She looks back up at the man from beneath a hood, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, and she grins.
“Am I wrong?”
He throws the remains of the bar stool at her and they collide sharply, showering her in splinters and dust. She hits the floor again as he rears back and-
Thock. Someone from the crowd steps forward, punching him square in the jaw. He keels over and collapses on to the floor, the crowd stepping back, happy only to observe. The newcomer rubs a gloved fist, warming sore knuckles.
“ Fuck, that hurt.”
She kneels down in front of the hooded figure sprawled out on the floor, an Exo, and brushes the dust and splinters off of her.
“Hey, you okay? How bad does it hurt?”
The Exo picks her head up to look at her saviour, and harshly laughs, dropping her head back onto the floor.
“I'll live.”
Her friend offers their hand to her.
“Come on, let's get you home. You've had enough to drink.”
“I literally cannot get drunk,” the Exo retorts.
“Yup, and you’ve had enough to drink,” she repeats, smirking.
She helps the Exo off of the floor, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and manoeuvering her through the crowd, out of the warmth and post-merrymaking of the bar and into the cold night air. Her breath fogs as she wraps her cape around herself with one arm, leading her friend with the other.
“I wish I were drunk. Would make going home in this weather significantly easier.” She smiles at the Exo, who’s clutching her forehead and picking bits of wood out of the various gaps in the metalwork of her face.
She continues. “Good night for pissing off the increasingly drunk and emotional, right? You sure know how to pick ‘em, hun.”
The Exo laughs in response. “Don’t you know it,” she says dryly.
“Just take it easy for a bit. Cayde meant a lot to a lot of people - you don’t need to be right about it right now. ”
The Exo, Maria-12 mutters under her breath in response, but her friend dismisses it. There’s silence as they continue to walk the streets, past neon-lit stalls and flickering white streetlights and the occasional taxi parked outside some other fine drinking establishment.
Several minutes into the quiet, Maria pulls her hand out of a pocket and - with a practiced flourish - her Ghost pops into existence, floating an inch off of her palm. It blinks at her and the Hunter with concern in its digital eye, before producing a flash of light. Maria can feel the wiring in her neck knit itself back together, like hot water rushing over her wound.
Maria sighs to her Ghost. “Thank you, Penumbra.”
Penumbra sighs back, and a moment passes before she speaks. “You should be thanking Angela.”
Maria can hear her friend, Angela, tutting, but they know that she has a smile on her face.
Penumbra continues. “That could have turned for the worse were it not for her intervention.”
“You can always heal me,” Maria mumbles, stuffing her hand back in her pocket..
Penumbra squints at her.
“I shouldn’t have to, Maria. You need to take care of yourself. Angela can’t always do it for you.”
Maria doesn’t say anything. Penumbra briefly exchanges a glance with Angela, before disappearing into thin air once more.
The two share another moment of silence as they continue to walk. Angela gently wraps her cloak around Maria, despite her unable to feel the cold. They eventually stop in front of a door on the street-level.
“Hey.”
Maria glances at her. “Mmm?”
Angela pauses, as if to say something, but one look at Maria’s eyes and she closes her mouth again. “In the morning. Get some sleep first.”
Maria frowns. “I literally do not need sleep.”
Angela grins. “No, you definitely need sleep.”
She holds Maria’s face in both hands and gently kisses her forehead. “Go sleep! I’ll see you in the morning.”
Maria closes her eyes as she’s held, and hesitates as they let go.
“Promise?”
“Hey, Ghost!”
A little light in the darkness, teal eye projecting forward, stops scanning the corpse crushed beneath the rubble. It wasn't that one anyway, she mutters to nobody in particular.
“Hey! Are you lost?”
Two guardians are walking towards her, and she briefly illuminates them in a ray of blue light. Human, Awoken, but neither she knows.
“No,” Penumbra responds, and she returns to scanning the next corpse along. “I'm just moving along. You know how it is.”
One of the guardians, taller than the other by a good foot, cocks her head to one side. “Down here in the Arcology? I'm shocked the Hive haven't gotten to the bodies yet.”
Penumbra moves along to the next in line. “I'm surprised they haven't either,” she states dryly.
She nudges her partner with her elbow. “Maybe ol’ Nessie has eaten a few of the Hive? Scare them off from the depths of the Ark.”
Her partner speaks and, from the tone of her voice, she's clearly smiling behind their helmet. “You wanna come along for the ride, Ghost? It's not too safe down here in the dark.”
Penumbra stops scanning and hovers back to full height, turning to face the duo.
“Sure. Maybe I'll get lucky.”
Interviewer: And do either of you believe you'll ever find a guardian?
Penumbra: There's time, there's always time. I know my guardian is out there, like a kind of gut feeling. It's just a matter of waiting, right? It happens when it happens. Some of us have been waiting a century, no point in trying to rush it.
Quartz: But you could just keep waiting and waiting… There’s no guarantee you'll still be alive tomorrow. I feel like I can put myself towards something more meaningful.
Penumbra: Something more meaningful? Is trying to help the Vanguard protect the Last City on Earth not enough? Trying to find someone that can add themselves to the ranks, save people and protect the solar system not enough?
Quartz: You can do both! There's nothing stopping you from doing both, Penumbra! Have you even tried putting yourself forward as a messenger or a scout? You can kill two birds with one stone!
Interviewer: Two birds with one stone? What do you mean by-
Penumbra: [sighing] You know I've tried, Quartz. You know I've tried!
Quartz: [pausing] Sorry.
Penumbra: Next question?
It's a small world, and it's growing smaller by the second.
Penumbra looked up over the Angela's shoulder, out through the thin pane separating the safety of inside from the cold vacuum of outer space. Beneath them, a swirl of gold and umber.
“Why are you heading to Venus, Angela? You know that the Vanguard has placed a temporary ban on the Ishtar Colle-”
Another digital voice interrupts, more butch and of higher tempo.
“What Cayde doesn't know won't hurt him!”
Angela rolls her eyes, fingers brushing against a plurality of buttons and dials on the control board of her ship.
“Look, it's just gonna be quick - head in, hop out, you know? Just trying to find some information.”
There's a pause. “Have you been to Venus yet?”
Penumbra gazes between the back of Angela's head, and her ghost. “No. No, I haven't.”
“You think you'll find them there?” Angela's ghost asks.
Penumbra doesn't reply.
Angela breaks the silence. “Hey Needle, fastest route to the crevasse?”
Needle’s shell spins as she performs the calculations. “Land in the basin, just south of Campus 6. It should be a straight shot from there.”
Penumbra's single digital eye squints at the other ghost. “Crevasse? I thought you were heading to the Ishtar Academy.”
Angela glances over her shoulder at Penumbra, and grins. “We are! Today, we're archeologists.”
Maria dreams of the Red War, a war that ended in name a year ago and yet it's consequences reverberate still. She dreams about the day she found and lost her light, stranded in the depths of Venus. She dreams about the day she met Angela, battered and broken together. She dreams about the day she found the graves, a thousand-fold. She'd go back one day, a little voice in the back of her head kept saying. After all, they had unfinished business.
She wakes up in the early afternoon, bright light seeping through the cracks in the blinds. Her first thoughts are of Angela, quickly followed by fucking fuck my head hurts why does my head hurt.
Angela laughs out loud, before pulling a very stern face and speaking in a similar voice, trying to hold back a smile.
“I’m Zavala, the Taken King! Rawr!”
Maria snorts into her mug, and Angela bursts out laughing again.
“No! You’re gonna get coffee on me again!”
Maria stifles another laugh, holding the mug between her two hands.
“Hah! Add that to the list of stains on your cloak!”
And the two fall into a fit of giggles again. Sitting, relaxing, and letting loose in this little café sitting on a river bank in the last safe city on Earth.
Needle and Penumbra hover across the water, taking in the sunshine and the ambience of civilization. The city is alive with the sounds of life, peaceful and gentle and naïve.
“We should really speak more often," Penumbra says quietly, to nobody in particular.
Needle blinks, twirling in place to face Penumbra, and then their Guardians.
“With the rate those two are going, I don't think we'll have a choice!" There's a joyous tone to Needle's voice. "No time like the present."
Penumbra lowers herself so she's just touching the water, looking at the sparkling reflection of the sun above, twinkling as the waters waltz.
“Hey, you okay? You're normally more chatty than this.”
Penumbra glances up at the other Ghost.
“I'm fine, Needle. Just thinking.”
“Something on your mind?”
“An old friend, Needle. I don't think you'd know them.”
“You gonna keep being vague?”
“Maybe.”
There’s a hint of a smile in Penumbra’s voice, and something of a glint in her eye.
“Hah! You keep your secrets, then. Just know I’m here if you need it.”
Penumbra’s shell spins as she pauses and thinks. “Yeah. Thanks, Needle.”
Interviewer: You mentioned “two birds with one stone” and, I’m pretty sure that’s a golden age expression?
Quartz: Yeah, it is.
Interviewer: How far back do you two go?
Quartz: Penumbra and I, we’ve been searching for our guardians since, well, since we were created by the Traveller. We found each other early on and we’ve been watching each other’s backs since.
Interviewer: You’ve been looking together for the last five hundred years?
Quartz: That’s… that’s one way to put it.
Stolen Intelligence > Conversion
ACCESS: RESTRICTED
DECRYPTION-KEY: 73XK5V2PG1$AUN-326
REP #: 1284-VEX-VOG
AGENT(S): ANG-114
SUBJ: Re: FOTC Quarantine breaches
- Despite the quarantine set up by the Vanguard around the southern Ishtar campuses, there have been repeated Guardian incursions and breaches. Continued spiking energy signatures from the Vault of Glass seem to suggest Vex activity, but veteran Guardians in the northern Ishtar campuses where the Vault is located can confirm that Vex activity has been minimal since the Red War. OWL Sector recovered blueprints for South Campus #6 through #11, however they seem to contradict the reality of the situation, making any other recovered or historical records unreliable.
- The few recovered Ghosts of the fireteams that vanished in the quarantine zone still maintain that they have no knowledge of what they saw (cf. reports #11106-INCID-VEN, 10871-INCID-VEN, 10355-INCID-VEN). Recent reanalysis (attached to this report as file Analysis #1) of what should have been active video footage and sound capture returns similar results to initial tests. This agent maintains that the quarantine should continue to be held in place, and that further research should be performed before any RAID-class operations should take place -- a dissenting opinion amongst other agents.
- Despite no evidence that any of the missing fireteams remain within Campus #6, and despite their Ghosts remaining under careful eye, we received a signal coming from deep underneath the campus. The message contained within the signal matches up with standard Vanguard SOS protocols and contains a message apparently by MOD-207. MOD-207 insists that she never wrote this message. Comparing the timestamp of the signal with her record suggests that she was investigating the Almighty when the message was created (cf. report #675-CABAL-ALM). Given recent rumours and reports of Vex inhabitation of the Almighty, this agent strongly suggests further investigation of the Almighty and the current state of Vex conversion and inhabitation of the once-abandoned vessel, especially given its capabilities and original intended purposes.
- As a side-note; I realise this is still a sensitive subject, but this might be a good time to talk to Osiris. If anyone has a good idea of what’s going on, it’s him.
MESSAGE ENDS
Take Your Time (Exotic lightweight Scout Rifle, 200rpm)
Find comfort in yourself - you are yourself forever, after all.
Intrinsic perk: Breathe Deep - rapid precision hits against enemy targets slow them down.
Fluted Barrel, Steady Rounds, Boxed Breathing, Comfort Grip
You know, it’s always a funny question, and I don’t really have an answer for it. I’m not even sure if there is a good answer for it, now that I think about it.
‘cos I’m not the only guardian like this, right? There’s hundreds of us. Asher Mir immediately comes to mind as a good example, but he lost his arm after he became a guardian, right? So why hasn’t his Ghost restored it to normal? I know the answer is because his Ghost is all Vex’d up but, it makes you think.
I guess it’s also a question of how a Ghost rezzes, but I don’t think Ghosts fully understand how that works either. Mine sure doesn’t. I have this theory though, that when a Ghost rezzes you for the first time - when you become a Guardian - it has this sort of idea of who you are, and you have this idea of who you are too. And together, you create your body from who you both envision yourself to be. Like, an ideal or true version of yourself.
When other people ask how or why, as a Guardian, I’m blind, I honestly don’t know how to respond. And that’s okay! At the very least, I know that I wouldn’t be me without it.
Maria-12 is sitting on the edge of an abandoned building, a seam in the horizon joining the sky and the earth off Venus as it leans precariously over rumbling waters.
She scribbles something down in a notebook, feet kicking out over the waters churning below. She always had a fondness for the basics.
"Hey, Pen, you good to go again?"
Her Ghost floats back down from above her, coming to eye-level, and squints at her.
"As long as you keep doing this, Maria," she says, tiredness in her voice.
Penumbra smiles faintly in reassurance. "Just a few more, I've got a lucky feeling today."
"You've always got a lucky feeling, Maria."
"And it's always paid off!" She stands up, and grins at her Ghost, before facing the hundred-foot plummet in front of her again. "...eventually."
There's the brief sound of a mechanical eye rolling in its shell.
"Yeah." Maria turns on the spot to face Penumbra, and salutes. "See you on the other side."
And she falls backwards. Gracefully at first, before becoming a flailing tangle of limbs and fear and the sound of rushing wind soaring past her and-
There's a really unpleasant crunch as she misses her target and hits the stone hard. She's immediately killed on impact as chunks of sleek metal and circuitry spray out in every direction.
Penumbra winces, having watched the whole affair. And then she starts counting aloud.
A minute passes. "58… 59…"
And instead of a '60', there's a flash of light as her shell spins and expands outward. Maria steps forward out of thin air, her body glowing softly as threads of Light weave her back together.
"Any luck?" Penumbra posits.
Maria sits back down on the edge of the building, picking her pen and paper from where she left it and immediately scribbling something down.
"Almost."
Interviewer: Dream? Ghosts dream?
[silence]
Interviewer: Sorry, bad question? Shall I move on to the next-
Penumbra: [cutting off] No, it's fine. We don't dream. I mean, we don't sleep, right?
Interviewer: Mhm. So what did you mean?
Penumbra: It's more in the sense that we have these instincts and ideas. Like deja vú, but more… innate, but fuzzy. If that makes any sense? It's that gut feeling I mentioned earlier, but… I don't know. It's hard to explain. It differs between everyone.
Stolen Intelligence > Sepsis
ACCESS: RESTRICTED
DECRYPTION-KEY: 73XK5V2PG1$AUN-326
REP #: 1291-VEX-VOG
AGENT(S): ANG-114
SUBJ: Re: Fwd: Re: FOTC Quarantine breaches
- It’s been six months since the last update on the southern Ishtar campuses, and less than a week since I’ve found out that the Vanguard’s solution to the Almighty is to blow it up. TO BLOW IT UP. We don’t know what half of that Vex tech does, and you’re letting her blow it up with a Warmind? This is risking spreading highly volatile Vex tech into orbit around Earth, or potentially raining upon active civilian sites with shrapnel and death.
- Actually, you know what, I don’t have a second point to make. I can’t stand for a Vanguard that approved this decision. I have made my voice clear hundreds of times, and this is the point of disagreement? I quit, Ikora. My desk will be empty by Monday.
MESSAGE ENDS
In the garden there exists a Tree of Silver Wings. The Winnower steps back to admire her work. A Tree amongst an eternal orchard, a forest, the fruit apocalypse and the bark disaster. It’s most fundamental atoms fight for survival, for their parity. There’s a Tree to it’s left, the branches bifurcate into infinity, it’s solution unreachable. There’s a Tree to it’s right, a carpet of shapes, and not an iota known, an infinitesimal against an infinity.
The Winnower admires the Tree for what it is, what it shows, what it proves. For what it can prove. For anything to flourish, you must trim away what is dead, what is dying. To bring sheers to the Tree, you can admire what is lost - even in death.
The smoke here is thick, harsh, ashy. There’s particulate of sand, spinmetal in the air, gliding lazily, enough to clog your respirator (if you’re fortunate enough to have one) and shred your lungs (if you’re not.) One can barely see through the thick grey plumes blooming from the remains of the wreckage. There’s a pin-prick of light through the grey that blooms into a beaming cone, and the particulate sparkles like free-floating glitter, shattering into colour against this newfound light.
The light’s source, a Ghost, scans the shrapnel that forms the walls in this clearing, curving inwards up above, and moves onwards, searching. Even through the thick of it, the wreckage seems untouched from it’s week-old state - it’s still chaotic, all broken limbs and sharp edges. Not even the Fallen have touched this place yet. The little light continues scanning through the debris.
There’s bodies amidst it all, too - what’s left of them, anyway. Smashed Cabal Legionary helmets, shattered Vex Goblin arms. The Ghost even spots what remains of another Ghost amongst the dead, clutched in an unidentifiable limb outstretched through a crack in what used to be a door. The Ghost scans it once, double-takes and scans it again. She moves on - not what she’s looking for.
The Ghost continues onwards anyway, searching for… whatever she is searching for. At first, it’s fast, jittery - eager, or perhaps panicked. Calling out names that only briefly touch into her memory. She slows down eventually, though. Pacing herself. After all, there’s miles upon miles of debris here in the wreckage of the Almighty. Thousands of the dead and what should have been the yet-to-die. This Ghost has been searching a few centuries already - what’s another?
She comes back to that Ghost again. Scans it another time, taking her time - she’s got plenty of it, anyway. One of the fingers of the limb holding it has pushed in it’s eye with force, crushing the inside, before it’s owner was crushed themselves. It’s a miracle that the shell is otherwise unharmed. And she glides off in search of her something.
And she comes back to that Ghost again. She scans it again, taking in the details. She hovers in place, watching as the ashes collect in the divots of the Ghost’s shell. The fragments of lens piercing the charred flesh of the hand.
And she comes back to that Ghost again. Not in person, but in her thoughts. She thinks of the Light, of the Traveler, of her search, and she thinks of the Ghost in front of her whose search was cut short. A kind of tension builds inside of her, metaphorical butterflies in a metaphorical stomach.
If she could take a deep breath, she would.
She opens up her eye and the Light pours forward.