LOCATION: EUROPEAN DEAD ZONE/EARTH
Despite it being a rather chilly morning, no signs of frost or snow lay upon the grass or leaves on the outskirts of the ruins of the town of Trostland. Laying upon a set of mossy rocks is an armored figure, a bow and arrow nestled in his hands with practiced ease. One could swear that perhaps the body was dead, as there was no movement, no steamed breath emanating from the helmet, nothing to suggest that this body was alive.
Hovering just over the body is a small metallic shell, enveloping a small black core that contains a holographic image not unlike an eye. Bits of the shell shift as the object lowers closer to the body. "Samson? You awake?"
"Always." The fingers that are holding the nocking point of the arrow tense slightly as the figure's head tilts upward. "Thanks to you."
"I can't tell if that's meant to be a compliment or an insult."
"It's just a fact, Plinkett. Ever since you brought me back, I've not slept, I've not eaten... I've not even felt the need to relieve myself."
"And I'm personally thankful for that last one. But that sense will fade away eventually. You'll be just like any other person."
"Aside from having my own personal shield slash resurrector slash hacking device slash scanner slash Light conduit?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
Samson can't help but give a light smirk under his helmet. Sure, having Plinkett as his Ghost was irritating at first. Not being able to be alone, having it constantly hover around you, having it be especially chatty... but after a few months, he gotten used to it.
Hearing the sound of radio static come from Plinkett, Samson loosens his grip on the arrow, replacing it in his quiver and going from a prone position to kneeling. "Looks like someone wants to get in contact with us."
"I'll patch it through". Plinkett's holographic eye goes from white to green as the transmission plays from the Ghost's shell.
"If there are any Guardians in close proximity to Trostland, this is Devrim Kay transmitting. Please respond."
"This is Samson in the Outskirts of Trostland responding. What is the situation, Devrim?"
"Samson? You're still out there? I thought you headed back to the City by now."
"Nope. Still out here. Day 5, by my reckoning." As he speaks, Samson's head turns, keeping an eye open in case anything just so happened to look up and see him.
"Five days? Well, that's certainly quite a stretch away from home."
"Work never ends, Devrim. Now, what's the situation?"
"Straight to the point, then. I've had reports come in from a few of my scouts about the Fallen collecting some artifacts that stray from their typical fare."
"How so?"
"Rather than gather pieces of technology like they usually do, they seem to be more focused on collecting... well, it seems to be shards of the Traveler they're gathering."
This causes Samson to look at Plinkett, and for the Ghost to looks back at its Guardian. "That is a bit strange. I know that they have an intense interest in the Traveler, but they're more focused on scavenging necessities at this time."
"No doubt due to all the constant clashing with your fellow Guardians. My most recent scout report says they're about 2 clicks out towards the Outskirts."
Turning around, Samson once again goes prone, gazing through the sight on his bow. On a nearby bridge is a rather large line of figures, along with a few hovering robots, a number of them carrying large shards of what seemed to be a shimmering white element. "I see them. A number of Dregs, Wretches and Vandals, some Marauders and Shanks, a few Servitors, a couple Captains and..." He pauses.
"What? What is it? What do you see?"
"There's a man with them."
"A man? I'm thinking hostage."
"Doubtful. This man is at the head of the line. Aside from that, Fallen rarely take hostages. They're scavengers, not extortionists." Samson pauses as he counts the number of Fallen in succession. "Devrim, if you can get in contact with other Guardians, have them track my Ghost. This Fallen envoy is heading towards Sojourner's Camp."
"Understood. What exactly are you planning to do?"
"I'm going to take a closer look. I'll be out of touch." Seeing Plinkett's eye turn back to its regular blue lighting, Samson goes from his his prone position to crouched. Moving swiftly for a Titan, he slides down the rocks to the stable earth beneath. There had been a few straggling Dregs and Vandals that patrolled around, but they had passed by some hours ago before regrouping with their larger forces. Still, he pulls out an arrow and nocks it against the bowstring. Holding his arms low, he rushes ahead, following a twisting pathway that would eventually wind back to the bridge. At the bridge were two Vandals, both of them carrying Wire Rifles. Taking cover behind the burned out husk of a car, he thinks it over.
"Well, that put you at a stop. Why the hesitation?"
"Wire Rifles. You know how easily they punch through your shields. I could take three hits before I'd be out of commission from them."
"Then you better make your shots count."
Nodding, Samson leans out from behind the rusting husk, the bowstring drawn back as far at it could before letting go. The carbon-fiber shaft flies true, the explosive-laden arrowhead impacting with the head of one of the Vandals, causing a sudden release of gaseous Ether from the head. One less of the Fallen. Dropping back behind the car, he can hear the impacts of the other's Wire Rifle against the old shell of the car, before hearing footsteps. Feeling Arc Light energy flow into his right hand as he hops up, punching the other Vandal across its face, the Arc energy cascading into its intended target, causing it to evaporate from the amount of energy put into the attack. "Does that suffice?"
"A little slow, but it got the job done." Plinkett sees Samson nock another arrow against the bowstring of his bow before running ahead, the little mechanical Ghost following close behind.
It took a few minutes, passing through a couple to tunnels and dealing with a few more Fallen, but eventually Samson stops and slides behind a nearby barren tree. Going prone, he crawls along the ground, slowly making his way up towards the camp site on the mountain. Upon reaching a grassy patch well up on the top of a hill, he keeps still, watching.
---
The black cloaked figure looks on as a number of these strange beings continue to bring up these white-tinted shards up here. He did not truly understand their language, but there was at least one word that they both understood as being the same: Light. These shards, where ever they came from, did indeed holds incredible amounts of Light within them. However, it wasn't the same kind of Light that he and his cohorts were looking for. Nevertheless, it may hold another way to achieve his... or rather, their goals.
Picking up one of these shards, he can feel its power zap against his hand, causing him to drop it. Evidently, this form of Light was clearly forceful in who could be allowed to touch it. His... nature obviously precluded him from that particular set of beings who could. A pity. However, he thinks. There could be a way to take such a sample, even if not by his hand. Motioning to his side, he hears the telltale 'WHOOSH' that came with their arrival.
"What was that?" The mechanical Ghost whispers to his Guardian, only to receive a shake of the head from Samson. Plinkett knew that he shouldn't give away their position, but it could not help itself. It pops up a moment to see what caused the whooshing sound, only to gaze at the new arrivals surrounding the man in the black cloak. Seeing him motion to these new creatures, Plinkett watches as what appeared to be zippers on their faces opened up, with these creatures...
"They're eating the shards of the Traveler!"
Unfortunately, Plinkett's shocked exclamation was audible enough to be heard by more than a few nearby Fallen. Glaring at his Ghost, Samson mutters. "Thanks for that, Plinkett." Rolling to one side, he gets back to his feet, rapidly drawing arrow after arrow, each one flying into the Fallen.
Seeing that his plan had been revealed, the man in black steps away from the fragments that held the Light. He didn't feel threatened by this individual, even if he could feel the same kind of Light that came from these shards. But of course, that was just from a cursory glance. He'd prefer to stay back, look on, see just how powerful this figure was.
Samson continues fire arrow after arrow, more and more Fallen getting taken out of commission. Some were fairly easy, as a single shot to the head was enough to cause a noticeable waft of Ether to emerge from the likes of the Wretches and Dregs, signalling their end. Other took 2 or 3, especially the likes of the the Vandals and Marauders. 10, 20, 30... The Fallen kept coming, as a variety of projectiles fly towards him. Shots from Shock Pistols, Wire Rifles, Shock Rifles, Shrapnel Launchers, each one having the potential to put Samson down. His stock of arrows was dropping rapidly, and he needed to get towards the undulating white figures who were still devouring the Traveler's shards.
"Watch it! Scorch Cannon!"
Plinkett's warning comes too late as the molten-hot slagged projectile impacts with Samson's chest, sending him flying back into a tree and knocking it over, leaving a large scorch mark on his chest plate and the edges of his sight being tinted red. As he drops to his knees, he sees his Ghost hover close to him.
"Hurry! Put up your shield! I'll get you fixed up." Taking the cue, Samson charges up his right arm, thrusting it forwards to create a wall of Light. Immediately, it gets hit with another shot from the Scorch Cannon, along with other various forms of Fallen firearms.
"The shield isn't gonna last long at this rate. Tell me you got a Hail Mary set up."
"How much longer, Plinkett?"
"8 second to fully heal, 5 until the shield breaks."
"Plenty enough time." Getting to his feet, Samson leaps up over his shield, making use of the Light to hover in midair. As he does so, he allows the power of the Light to overflow, his body beginning to spark with massive amounts of Arc Light. He drops down, his fists swinging into the ground with a double-handed smash, releasing the Arc Light into the nearby pool of Fallen. Many immediately dissolve from the amount of energy they are bombarded with, while others are sent flying. Looking around, he performs another two massive shockwave-inducing ground pounds before his eyes focus on the Captain that held the Scorch Cannon that send him flying but a little while ago. Tanking two more hits from the cannon, fueled on by the Light, Samson charges into the Captain with his shoulder full-force, knocking the weapon away and sending the Captain flying back through a tree, before dissolving just before impacting with another tree.
The font of Light he called upon dims as his call upon the Fists of Havoc is concluded. Only a scant few Fallen remain, as does the man in the black cloak and what he assumed were its minions. Reaching behind him, he pulls out a strange-looking weapon: It appears to look like a revolver, although it was one designed unlike any other. Taking aim at one of the remaining Fallen, he fires a single shot at center mass. The round impacts with enough force to take out the Fallen Marauder, but the effect of the shot kicks in as the round explodes inside of the target, engulfing it and flames before dissolving.
He aims at another, but sees them begin to back away. The Fallen may have been desperate scavengers, but when a massive force of their ilk was defeated by a single being, they knew well enough that it would serve them better to flee and try to scavenge another day.
"Very impressive." The cloaked figure claps, having watched the whole affair. Just seeing how this figure was able to fend off his erstwhile associates by itself was quite the feat. Very few had the fortitude to fight alone against a horde. "I can see that your Light shines bright."
"And we see you taking Light that doesn't belong to you." Plinkett floats beside Samson, who has his Sunspot Hand Cannon aimed at the figure's chest.
"So have your things expel the shards. This is your only warning."
The figure reaches up to the hood of his cloak, lowering it to reveal his face. His skin is well-tanned, his eyes an amber-brown, long hair silver and spiky, his face not demonstrating any emotion whatsoever. "For what reason? Your worlds are filled with an abundance of Light. Surely the few slivers held within these Dusks can go astray with no consequence to you."
"Well, you don't know how Guardians work here, then."
"Guardian..." The word is uttered with a low growl. The figure's left hand hand extends out, as a blade of crimson energy emerges from it, with another emerging from his right hand. "It appears that no matter how far the distance between worlds, there shall be Guardians for the Light to fend it off from the Darkness."
"The Darkness?" Samson gazes at the figure who blurs out of sight, before reappearing before him, slamming the red energy blades into him, each strike impacting with his armor hard and causing him considerable pain, before being knocked into the air and through another tree. Landing hard with the earth below, Samson forces himself to put aside the figure's statement. He couldn't afford to dwell on that. He had work to do.
Getting back to his feet, Samson fires his Sunspot towards the figure twice, both shots deftly dodged. He couldn't get far enough away to make use of his bow, and the Sunspot couldn't hit him for being too swift at his current range... Putting away the Sunspot, Samson reaches to his back, gripping onto the hilt of a fairly large sword which he unsheathes, the blade emanating a faint hue of pale purple light. He very rarely used the Crownsplitter, but in this instance he need the potential for immediate defense that his Barrier couldn't readily provide. As if to prove its use, he brings Crownsplitter up, able to catch the energy blades with the sword's edge, the crimson light of his foe's weapons crackling against the faint purple light from his own.
The cloaked figure applies more force, expecting the sword to chip or break, or for the figure holding it to begin to buckle under the pressure. "Try as you might, even those like you who wield Light know that the power of Darkness is insurmountable... It is inevitable... You cannot stop it. It is fut-"
*CLA-KRAK*
The cloaked figure falls onto his back, clearly stunned, his forehead sporting a massive red blemish from the point of impact with Samson's helmeted head.
"This isn't a debate hall. This is a battlefield." Walking over, Samson pops his neck as he steps onto the figure's chest, holding him there. Bringing back out Sunspot, he takes aim at the figure's head.
"You sure about this? He might not exactly be in control." Plinkett gazes at the cloaked figure, a cursory scan occurring as he is held there.
"I'm sure." Samson doesn't even bother to look at Plinkett as it hovers next to him.
"If you do this... you will never get back that which was taken." The figure's hands move towards Samson's planted foot, only for more pressure to be applied to his chest.
"We'll find them. We have our ways." The hand cannon's hammer is pulled back... only for Samson's arm to get jerked away. "What?" He looks to find that the creatures from before had returned, wrapping themselves around his arm and having knocked Sunspot aside. Feeling similar pulls at his other arm, as well as his legs, Samson is pulled back and pinned to the ground.
Getting to his feet, the cloaked figure shakes his head before summoning one of his energy blades. "You are correct. This is a battlefield. In a place like this, anything is possible, including swarming your enemy."
Samson wasn't going to beg. He wasn't going to argue. He knew the score. He was going to die. "Just do it already."
"Hm." Without hesitation, the energy blade shoots into Samson, piercing his chest and heart, the effect quick and apparent. Seeing the Dusks detach from Samson's limbs, the figure pulls back up the hood of his cloak, turning to leave. As he does so, he hears the whirring sound of incredible fast objects whizzing by his head, impacting with a nearby tree, leaving a closely nestled patch of three bullet holes. Turning back, he sees that two others have arrived.
"Stupid rifle..." One of the figures slaps her gun, before looking at her partner. "Ambress, you better show what you can do."
"Gladly." Hovering in the air, the Warlock known as Ambress-5 radiates with Arc Light energy, her robotic body crackling with electricity. The sparking gathers between her hands before she releases that energy, guiding it with her hands as she aims at the unidentified creatures and the robed figure. While the creatures are hit with it and dissipate into nothingness, the cloaked person disappears before the Arc Light energy reaches him, stepping back through a swirling portal of darkness.
"Damn." Keeping her Burst Rifle at the ready, the Guardian Idru Koz moves towards her fallen fireteam partner, eyes looking all around in case this cloaked person felt like coming back and taking another swing. But reaching Samson, there's nothing. No hint that this stranger would return. Kneeling down, she shakes her head. *You idiot. Cipher, give Plinkett a boost." She sees her own Ghost provide a boost in Plinkett's Light, the two quickly bringing the fallen Samson back to life.
With a grunt, Samson sits back up, touching the point where the man's energy blade pierced his body. "That was... unpleasant."
"You're welcome, by the way." Idru stands back up, crossing her arms, undoubted glaring at him.
"Oh... Hello Idru." Getting to his feet after his cold response, Samson rotates one of his arms before he looks over at Ambress-5. "Ambress." He gives a slight nod. "You were the closest ones?"
"Actually, Commander Zavala had sent us out to find you and bring you back to the City. You've been away for some time and direct comms with him weren't going through." Ambress moves towards the other two, her hands holding onto an SMG.
"Direct comms weren't... Agh. Plinkett." Samson stares at his Ghost, his voice both seething and a bit embarrassed.
"What? You said that you needed the quiet to do your recon work, so I might've disregarded his comms."
"The ones for Commander Zavala, Cayde-6 and Ikora Rey are meant to be kept open at all times." Idru's focus is clearly on Plinkett, and although she was wearing her helmet, she likewise was clearly glaring at him. "That has always been the protocol to follow in case a fireteam goes down, and especially if someone decides to gallivant off by themselves." She nods at Samson as to prove a point.
"Here we go..." Ambress shakes her head, but before the argument can begin between her teammates, the same voice can be heard through the comms of all three Guardians.
"Fireteam Lima-Victor-Kilo-Niner. Return for debriefing immediately."
Samson groans. Zavala was calling them in. No doubt there was a tongue-thrashing in store. "You heard him." Looking down, he sees a small shard of the Traveler. Ambress' use of the Arc Light was able to get rid of one that held a Traveler shard. Kneeling down, he picks it up. "Let's go."
---
LOCATION: THE LAST CITY/EARTH
"I'm very disappointed in you, Samson." Zavala watches as both Idru Koz and Ambress-5 take their leave. They had been given their debriefing and were no doubt going to talk to Ikora Rey as a form of counsel. But with Samson... There had to be more. As he was the Titan Vanguard and overall commander of the Guardians, he had to make sure his point was made. "As the eldest member of your fireteam, it falls upon you to act in a manner that is meant to promote what it means to be a Guardian. Strong communication, supporting your fellow fireteam members, demonstrating restraint and waiting for assistance. None of these things were done during your recent excursion."
"I am aware of this, sir." Samson stands up straight and tall, his helmet off. His brown hair a mess, his eyes lined with shadows due to lack of sleep, and the graying along the corners of his beard accentuated what measure of exhaustion he had, along with his desire to not hear this from Zavala.
"Then tell me why you did not answer comms over a period of 5 days until notice came from Devrim Kay?"
"That... would have been me, actually." Plinkett moves ahead of Samson. "Your first communication was 10 minutes after our arrival in the EDZ. Considering that Samson was performing recon on patrols on both the Cabal and the Fallen, I had to suppress the comms for it to be done effectively. After the third day, you didn't send out any more comms to us, so I thought you got the point." Almost immediately, Plinkett adds, "No offense."
"Because after that third day, I had to call in both Idru Koz and Ambress-5 to find you." Zavala's eyes focus on Samson again, his lightly glowing eyes blending in with his light blue skin and the mark on his face. "When Devrim's request came in and you were mentioned, they arrived at the EDZ in short notice. Why weren't you there upon their arrival?"
"A more pressing matter needed to be followed up."
"What exactly was more pressing?" Watching Samson, Zavala sees him reach behind him, and pull out a white crystalline fragment the length of his palm. Almost immediately, Zavala recognizes it. "That's..."
"A Shard of the Traveler. The Fallen were collecting them under orders... orders not from any of the Houses."
This catches Zavala a bit off guard. The Fallen's society had them divided up into various Houses, who were more or less unbeholden to any other House, or any other species for that matter. "Then who?"
"A man... as far as I could tell. But this wasn't an ordinary man." Samson taps his chest, right where the point where the energy blade pierced him. "He claimed to utilize the energies of the Darkness."
"Do you believe it?"
"Considering how he killed me, I'm inclined to believe so."
Zavala holds out his hand, and Samson hands over the Traveler shard. "How many did they take?"
"That was the only one left behind, and that's a small sample. They had ones that looked to be about the length of a rifle with them, but they must've broken them down into smaller pieces."
"Why would they?"
"The man leading them had other... things with them. Didn't belong to any of our regular foes. Best way I can describe them is akin to the Taken. He called them Dusks, and they were eating the shards of the Traveler."
"Eating them?" Zavala asks, his shock and disgust quite apparent from his tone.
"I think this Darkness-using guy's using those Dusks as pack mules to carry them where ever they may be now. He couldn't touch the shards without them shocking him." Plinkett pipes up
"I see..." Putting the shard away, Zavala looks at Samson. "I take it you wish to follow up on this figure to reclaim the shards of the Traveler."
Samson nods. "Yes, sir. And I will be certain to keep Idru and Ambress in the loop for..."
"No." Zavala's response is curt, and forceful.
"No?"
"No. We are still rebuilding our forces after the Red War. There are too few Guardians available to perform such an operation, especially if we are uncertain as to where they are, what their numbers are and the tactics they will use." He sees Samson begin to scowl. "I understand your frustration, but you need to understand that the City needs you focused on defending it and Humanity. With the Traveler awake and above us, we have to remain vigilant on what's here and what we can do now. We will find those shards, but as it stands their priority is secondary. Are we clear?" Seeing Samson clench his fist, Zavala repeats himself. "Are we clear?"
His grip loosens, and Samson sighs. "Yes, sir."
---
A few days have passed, and Samson's mind still turns towards the man in black, the Dusks and the lost shards of the Traveler. Having been remanded to the Last City for the time, he's been on edge. He understood Zavala's reasoning, but there was still a part of him saying that the Titan Vanguard was wrong in his decision. Stopping at a ramen shop, he takes a seat and orders a bowl. As he sits there, he hears someone sit beside him.
"So, someone seems a bit grumpy."
He sighs. He knew that voice. "I'm fine, Cayde." Samson's voice is flat, a slight bit of irritation leaking through.
"Okay, first off: Terrible bluff. You don't look at me, your face is a bit scrunched up like you need to use the bathroom and you're not exactly sounding friendly."
He finally looks over at Cayde-6. Exo with a sense of comedy, Vanguard of the Hunter-class Guardians, and overall irritant to Zavala, often following his gut rather than his orders. Samson can't help but look away again because of how much he didn't like Cayde.
"Bowl for me, as well, and put his on my tab." Cayde knocks on the countertop of the small food vendor, his metallic knuckles rapping against the lacquered wood.
"I don't need your charity."
"Still bitter about Zavala grounding you, eh?" Cayde sees Samson gaze over at him. "Your little dust-up with him isn't exactly the City's best kept secret."
"It wasn't a 'dust-up'. He felt that risking Guardians to find something important with such short numbers is too big a risk." He sees the bowl of ramen placed before him. Taking some hot sauce, he squirts it into his bowl. "His reasoning makes sense."
"But you still think it's BS, huh?" Cayde receives no response, as Samson has begun to eat his ramen. "Well, it kinda is, kinda isn't. We've got people who are more than capable enough to track down your dark monk man..."
Finishing his bite, Samson, stirs his ramen. "Doubt he's a monk."
"But they've all got missions. They're working Strikes, helping out across the system, doing patrols. And you... You've been a Guardian how long?"
"7 months." Samson quickly ingests another large clump of sauced noodles with some meat.
"That's barely any time at all. You haven't done anything except recon missions and a couple assassinations against Cabal and Taken. Zavala won't lay this job on you because you haven't proved yourself as a Guardian yet. He still sees you as a rookie."
Jabbing his chopsticks into his bowl so hard they break, Samson looks at Cayde, his eyes fierce. "So how do I change that, hm? How do I do that when I'm stuck here, or better yet, how can I do that when I want to strangle one of my fireteam members?"
"In what way?" Receiving yet another dirty look from Samson, Cayde continues on. "What I'm saying is that you need to take a risk. Put your neck on the line. Do something even... no, especially if it royally pisses Zavala off."
"So be you, basically."
"What? Of course not. There can be only one." Seeing his own bowl set in front of him, Cayde grabs his own chopsticks. "Well, that's enough advice from Uncle Cayde. It's chow time."
Seeing the Exo eat, Samson gets up, leaving his bowl there. "You can have mine."
"Fanks!" Rapidly slurping his ramen, Cayde quickly moves onto Samson's bowl.
Stepping away from the stall, Samson heads out of the Bazaar of the Last City and moves up back to the Courtyard, seeing a few Guardians run past him. Pausing as he gazes out at the rear of the Courtyard, he thinks for a few minutes, considering things. Eventually, he speaks up. "Plinkett?"
"Yes, Samson?"
"Were you able to perform a complete scan on the man in black?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But I was able to scan him long enough to record his energy signature."
"...could we track it?"
"We could, but the process wouldn't exactly be speedy. Why?" Looking over at Samson, Plinkett's holographic eye changes color, going from its regular white coloration to a more yellow tint. "Wait... You're not thinking of..."
"I hate to say it, but yes. And just us two."
"Wow. Not only are you gonna make Zavala really angry, but you're gonna make Idru want to blow you away in the Crucible when you get back."
"Should I be so lucky. Let's get out of here." Looking at Plinkett, both Guardian and Ghost transmat out of the Last City to their ship. They would be gone from the system in a short time, their disappearance not noticed until days later.
Despite it being a rather chilly morning, no signs of frost or snow lay upon the grass or leaves on the outskirts of the ruins of the town of Trostland. Laying upon a set of mossy rocks is an armored figure, a bow and arrow nestled in his hands with practiced ease. One could swear that perhaps the body was dead, as there was no movement, no steamed breath emanating from the helmet, nothing to suggest that this body was alive.
Hovering just over the body is a small metallic shell, enveloping a small black core that contains a holographic image not unlike an eye. Bits of the shell shift as the object lowers closer to the body. "Samson? You awake?"
"Always." The fingers that are holding the nocking point of the arrow tense slightly as the figure's head tilts upward. "Thanks to you."
"I can't tell if that's meant to be a compliment or an insult."
"It's just a fact, Plinkett. Ever since you brought me back, I've not slept, I've not eaten... I've not even felt the need to relieve myself."
"And I'm personally thankful for that last one. But that sense will fade away eventually. You'll be just like any other person."
"Aside from having my own personal shield slash resurrector slash hacking device slash scanner slash Light conduit?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
Samson can't help but give a light smirk under his helmet. Sure, having Plinkett as his Ghost was irritating at first. Not being able to be alone, having it constantly hover around you, having it be especially chatty... but after a few months, he gotten used to it.
Hearing the sound of radio static come from Plinkett, Samson loosens his grip on the arrow, replacing it in his quiver and going from a prone position to kneeling. "Looks like someone wants to get in contact with us."
"I'll patch it through". Plinkett's holographic eye goes from white to green as the transmission plays from the Ghost's shell.
"If there are any Guardians in close proximity to Trostland, this is Devrim Kay transmitting. Please respond."
"This is Samson in the Outskirts of Trostland responding. What is the situation, Devrim?"
"Samson? You're still out there? I thought you headed back to the City by now."
"Nope. Still out here. Day 5, by my reckoning." As he speaks, Samson's head turns, keeping an eye open in case anything just so happened to look up and see him.
"Five days? Well, that's certainly quite a stretch away from home."
"Work never ends, Devrim. Now, what's the situation?"
"Straight to the point, then. I've had reports come in from a few of my scouts about the Fallen collecting some artifacts that stray from their typical fare."
"How so?"
"Rather than gather pieces of technology like they usually do, they seem to be more focused on collecting... well, it seems to be shards of the Traveler they're gathering."
This causes Samson to look at Plinkett, and for the Ghost to looks back at its Guardian. "That is a bit strange. I know that they have an intense interest in the Traveler, but they're more focused on scavenging necessities at this time."
"No doubt due to all the constant clashing with your fellow Guardians. My most recent scout report says they're about 2 clicks out towards the Outskirts."
Turning around, Samson once again goes prone, gazing through the sight on his bow. On a nearby bridge is a rather large line of figures, along with a few hovering robots, a number of them carrying large shards of what seemed to be a shimmering white element. "I see them. A number of Dregs, Wretches and Vandals, some Marauders and Shanks, a few Servitors, a couple Captains and..." He pauses.
"What? What is it? What do you see?"
"There's a man with them."
"A man? I'm thinking hostage."
"Doubtful. This man is at the head of the line. Aside from that, Fallen rarely take hostages. They're scavengers, not extortionists." Samson pauses as he counts the number of Fallen in succession. "Devrim, if you can get in contact with other Guardians, have them track my Ghost. This Fallen envoy is heading towards Sojourner's Camp."
"Understood. What exactly are you planning to do?"
"I'm going to take a closer look. I'll be out of touch." Seeing Plinkett's eye turn back to its regular blue lighting, Samson goes from his his prone position to crouched. Moving swiftly for a Titan, he slides down the rocks to the stable earth beneath. There had been a few straggling Dregs and Vandals that patrolled around, but they had passed by some hours ago before regrouping with their larger forces. Still, he pulls out an arrow and nocks it against the bowstring. Holding his arms low, he rushes ahead, following a twisting pathway that would eventually wind back to the bridge. At the bridge were two Vandals, both of them carrying Wire Rifles. Taking cover behind the burned out husk of a car, he thinks it over.
"Well, that put you at a stop. Why the hesitation?"
"Wire Rifles. You know how easily they punch through your shields. I could take three hits before I'd be out of commission from them."
"Then you better make your shots count."
Nodding, Samson leans out from behind the rusting husk, the bowstring drawn back as far at it could before letting go. The carbon-fiber shaft flies true, the explosive-laden arrowhead impacting with the head of one of the Vandals, causing a sudden release of gaseous Ether from the head. One less of the Fallen. Dropping back behind the car, he can hear the impacts of the other's Wire Rifle against the old shell of the car, before hearing footsteps. Feeling Arc Light energy flow into his right hand as he hops up, punching the other Vandal across its face, the Arc energy cascading into its intended target, causing it to evaporate from the amount of energy put into the attack. "Does that suffice?"
"A little slow, but it got the job done." Plinkett sees Samson nock another arrow against the bowstring of his bow before running ahead, the little mechanical Ghost following close behind.
It took a few minutes, passing through a couple to tunnels and dealing with a few more Fallen, but eventually Samson stops and slides behind a nearby barren tree. Going prone, he crawls along the ground, slowly making his way up towards the camp site on the mountain. Upon reaching a grassy patch well up on the top of a hill, he keeps still, watching.
---
The black cloaked figure looks on as a number of these strange beings continue to bring up these white-tinted shards up here. He did not truly understand their language, but there was at least one word that they both understood as being the same: Light. These shards, where ever they came from, did indeed holds incredible amounts of Light within them. However, it wasn't the same kind of Light that he and his cohorts were looking for. Nevertheless, it may hold another way to achieve his... or rather, their goals.
Picking up one of these shards, he can feel its power zap against his hand, causing him to drop it. Evidently, this form of Light was clearly forceful in who could be allowed to touch it. His... nature obviously precluded him from that particular set of beings who could. A pity. However, he thinks. There could be a way to take such a sample, even if not by his hand. Motioning to his side, he hears the telltale 'WHOOSH' that came with their arrival.
"What was that?" The mechanical Ghost whispers to his Guardian, only to receive a shake of the head from Samson. Plinkett knew that he shouldn't give away their position, but it could not help itself. It pops up a moment to see what caused the whooshing sound, only to gaze at the new arrivals surrounding the man in the black cloak. Seeing him motion to these new creatures, Plinkett watches as what appeared to be zippers on their faces opened up, with these creatures...
"They're eating the shards of the Traveler!"
Unfortunately, Plinkett's shocked exclamation was audible enough to be heard by more than a few nearby Fallen. Glaring at his Ghost, Samson mutters. "Thanks for that, Plinkett." Rolling to one side, he gets back to his feet, rapidly drawing arrow after arrow, each one flying into the Fallen.
Seeing that his plan had been revealed, the man in black steps away from the fragments that held the Light. He didn't feel threatened by this individual, even if he could feel the same kind of Light that came from these shards. But of course, that was just from a cursory glance. He'd prefer to stay back, look on, see just how powerful this figure was.
Samson continues fire arrow after arrow, more and more Fallen getting taken out of commission. Some were fairly easy, as a single shot to the head was enough to cause a noticeable waft of Ether to emerge from the likes of the Wretches and Dregs, signalling their end. Other took 2 or 3, especially the likes of the the Vandals and Marauders. 10, 20, 30... The Fallen kept coming, as a variety of projectiles fly towards him. Shots from Shock Pistols, Wire Rifles, Shock Rifles, Shrapnel Launchers, each one having the potential to put Samson down. His stock of arrows was dropping rapidly, and he needed to get towards the undulating white figures who were still devouring the Traveler's shards.
"Watch it! Scorch Cannon!"
Plinkett's warning comes too late as the molten-hot slagged projectile impacts with Samson's chest, sending him flying back into a tree and knocking it over, leaving a large scorch mark on his chest plate and the edges of his sight being tinted red. As he drops to his knees, he sees his Ghost hover close to him.
"Hurry! Put up your shield! I'll get you fixed up." Taking the cue, Samson charges up his right arm, thrusting it forwards to create a wall of Light. Immediately, it gets hit with another shot from the Scorch Cannon, along with other various forms of Fallen firearms.
"The shield isn't gonna last long at this rate. Tell me you got a Hail Mary set up."
"How much longer, Plinkett?"
"8 second to fully heal, 5 until the shield breaks."
"Plenty enough time." Getting to his feet, Samson leaps up over his shield, making use of the Light to hover in midair. As he does so, he allows the power of the Light to overflow, his body beginning to spark with massive amounts of Arc Light. He drops down, his fists swinging into the ground with a double-handed smash, releasing the Arc Light into the nearby pool of Fallen. Many immediately dissolve from the amount of energy they are bombarded with, while others are sent flying. Looking around, he performs another two massive shockwave-inducing ground pounds before his eyes focus on the Captain that held the Scorch Cannon that send him flying but a little while ago. Tanking two more hits from the cannon, fueled on by the Light, Samson charges into the Captain with his shoulder full-force, knocking the weapon away and sending the Captain flying back through a tree, before dissolving just before impacting with another tree.
The font of Light he called upon dims as his call upon the Fists of Havoc is concluded. Only a scant few Fallen remain, as does the man in the black cloak and what he assumed were its minions. Reaching behind him, he pulls out a strange-looking weapon: It appears to look like a revolver, although it was one designed unlike any other. Taking aim at one of the remaining Fallen, he fires a single shot at center mass. The round impacts with enough force to take out the Fallen Marauder, but the effect of the shot kicks in as the round explodes inside of the target, engulfing it and flames before dissolving.
He aims at another, but sees them begin to back away. The Fallen may have been desperate scavengers, but when a massive force of their ilk was defeated by a single being, they knew well enough that it would serve them better to flee and try to scavenge another day.
"Very impressive." The cloaked figure claps, having watched the whole affair. Just seeing how this figure was able to fend off his erstwhile associates by itself was quite the feat. Very few had the fortitude to fight alone against a horde. "I can see that your Light shines bright."
"And we see you taking Light that doesn't belong to you." Plinkett floats beside Samson, who has his Sunspot Hand Cannon aimed at the figure's chest.
"So have your things expel the shards. This is your only warning."
The figure reaches up to the hood of his cloak, lowering it to reveal his face. His skin is well-tanned, his eyes an amber-brown, long hair silver and spiky, his face not demonstrating any emotion whatsoever. "For what reason? Your worlds are filled with an abundance of Light. Surely the few slivers held within these Dusks can go astray with no consequence to you."
"Well, you don't know how Guardians work here, then."
"Guardian..." The word is uttered with a low growl. The figure's left hand hand extends out, as a blade of crimson energy emerges from it, with another emerging from his right hand. "It appears that no matter how far the distance between worlds, there shall be Guardians for the Light to fend it off from the Darkness."
"The Darkness?" Samson gazes at the figure who blurs out of sight, before reappearing before him, slamming the red energy blades into him, each strike impacting with his armor hard and causing him considerable pain, before being knocked into the air and through another tree. Landing hard with the earth below, Samson forces himself to put aside the figure's statement. He couldn't afford to dwell on that. He had work to do.
Getting back to his feet, Samson fires his Sunspot towards the figure twice, both shots deftly dodged. He couldn't get far enough away to make use of his bow, and the Sunspot couldn't hit him for being too swift at his current range... Putting away the Sunspot, Samson reaches to his back, gripping onto the hilt of a fairly large sword which he unsheathes, the blade emanating a faint hue of pale purple light. He very rarely used the Crownsplitter, but in this instance he need the potential for immediate defense that his Barrier couldn't readily provide. As if to prove its use, he brings Crownsplitter up, able to catch the energy blades with the sword's edge, the crimson light of his foe's weapons crackling against the faint purple light from his own.
The cloaked figure applies more force, expecting the sword to chip or break, or for the figure holding it to begin to buckle under the pressure. "Try as you might, even those like you who wield Light know that the power of Darkness is insurmountable... It is inevitable... You cannot stop it. It is fut-"
*CLA-KRAK*
The cloaked figure falls onto his back, clearly stunned, his forehead sporting a massive red blemish from the point of impact with Samson's helmeted head.
"This isn't a debate hall. This is a battlefield." Walking over, Samson pops his neck as he steps onto the figure's chest, holding him there. Bringing back out Sunspot, he takes aim at the figure's head.
"You sure about this? He might not exactly be in control." Plinkett gazes at the cloaked figure, a cursory scan occurring as he is held there.
"I'm sure." Samson doesn't even bother to look at Plinkett as it hovers next to him.
"If you do this... you will never get back that which was taken." The figure's hands move towards Samson's planted foot, only for more pressure to be applied to his chest.
"We'll find them. We have our ways." The hand cannon's hammer is pulled back... only for Samson's arm to get jerked away. "What?" He looks to find that the creatures from before had returned, wrapping themselves around his arm and having knocked Sunspot aside. Feeling similar pulls at his other arm, as well as his legs, Samson is pulled back and pinned to the ground.
Getting to his feet, the cloaked figure shakes his head before summoning one of his energy blades. "You are correct. This is a battlefield. In a place like this, anything is possible, including swarming your enemy."
Samson wasn't going to beg. He wasn't going to argue. He knew the score. He was going to die. "Just do it already."
"Hm." Without hesitation, the energy blade shoots into Samson, piercing his chest and heart, the effect quick and apparent. Seeing the Dusks detach from Samson's limbs, the figure pulls back up the hood of his cloak, turning to leave. As he does so, he hears the whirring sound of incredible fast objects whizzing by his head, impacting with a nearby tree, leaving a closely nestled patch of three bullet holes. Turning back, he sees that two others have arrived.
"Stupid rifle..." One of the figures slaps her gun, before looking at her partner. "Ambress, you better show what you can do."
"Gladly." Hovering in the air, the Warlock known as Ambress-5 radiates with Arc Light energy, her robotic body crackling with electricity. The sparking gathers between her hands before she releases that energy, guiding it with her hands as she aims at the unidentified creatures and the robed figure. While the creatures are hit with it and dissipate into nothingness, the cloaked person disappears before the Arc Light energy reaches him, stepping back through a swirling portal of darkness.
"Damn." Keeping her Burst Rifle at the ready, the Guardian Idru Koz moves towards her fallen fireteam partner, eyes looking all around in case this cloaked person felt like coming back and taking another swing. But reaching Samson, there's nothing. No hint that this stranger would return. Kneeling down, she shakes her head. *You idiot. Cipher, give Plinkett a boost." She sees her own Ghost provide a boost in Plinkett's Light, the two quickly bringing the fallen Samson back to life.
With a grunt, Samson sits back up, touching the point where the man's energy blade pierced his body. "That was... unpleasant."
"You're welcome, by the way." Idru stands back up, crossing her arms, undoubted glaring at him.
"Oh... Hello Idru." Getting to his feet after his cold response, Samson rotates one of his arms before he looks over at Ambress-5. "Ambress." He gives a slight nod. "You were the closest ones?"
"Actually, Commander Zavala had sent us out to find you and bring you back to the City. You've been away for some time and direct comms with him weren't going through." Ambress moves towards the other two, her hands holding onto an SMG.
"Direct comms weren't... Agh. Plinkett." Samson stares at his Ghost, his voice both seething and a bit embarrassed.
"What? You said that you needed the quiet to do your recon work, so I might've disregarded his comms."
"The ones for Commander Zavala, Cayde-6 and Ikora Rey are meant to be kept open at all times." Idru's focus is clearly on Plinkett, and although she was wearing her helmet, she likewise was clearly glaring at him. "That has always been the protocol to follow in case a fireteam goes down, and especially if someone decides to gallivant off by themselves." She nods at Samson as to prove a point.
"Here we go..." Ambress shakes her head, but before the argument can begin between her teammates, the same voice can be heard through the comms of all three Guardians.
"Fireteam Lima-Victor-Kilo-Niner. Return for debriefing immediately."
Samson groans. Zavala was calling them in. No doubt there was a tongue-thrashing in store. "You heard him." Looking down, he sees a small shard of the Traveler. Ambress' use of the Arc Light was able to get rid of one that held a Traveler shard. Kneeling down, he picks it up. "Let's go."
---
LOCATION: THE LAST CITY/EARTH
"I'm very disappointed in you, Samson." Zavala watches as both Idru Koz and Ambress-5 take their leave. They had been given their debriefing and were no doubt going to talk to Ikora Rey as a form of counsel. But with Samson... There had to be more. As he was the Titan Vanguard and overall commander of the Guardians, he had to make sure his point was made. "As the eldest member of your fireteam, it falls upon you to act in a manner that is meant to promote what it means to be a Guardian. Strong communication, supporting your fellow fireteam members, demonstrating restraint and waiting for assistance. None of these things were done during your recent excursion."
"I am aware of this, sir." Samson stands up straight and tall, his helmet off. His brown hair a mess, his eyes lined with shadows due to lack of sleep, and the graying along the corners of his beard accentuated what measure of exhaustion he had, along with his desire to not hear this from Zavala.
"Then tell me why you did not answer comms over a period of 5 days until notice came from Devrim Kay?"
"That... would have been me, actually." Plinkett moves ahead of Samson. "Your first communication was 10 minutes after our arrival in the EDZ. Considering that Samson was performing recon on patrols on both the Cabal and the Fallen, I had to suppress the comms for it to be done effectively. After the third day, you didn't send out any more comms to us, so I thought you got the point." Almost immediately, Plinkett adds, "No offense."
"Because after that third day, I had to call in both Idru Koz and Ambress-5 to find you." Zavala's eyes focus on Samson again, his lightly glowing eyes blending in with his light blue skin and the mark on his face. "When Devrim's request came in and you were mentioned, they arrived at the EDZ in short notice. Why weren't you there upon their arrival?"
"A more pressing matter needed to be followed up."
"What exactly was more pressing?" Watching Samson, Zavala sees him reach behind him, and pull out a white crystalline fragment the length of his palm. Almost immediately, Zavala recognizes it. "That's..."
"A Shard of the Traveler. The Fallen were collecting them under orders... orders not from any of the Houses."
This catches Zavala a bit off guard. The Fallen's society had them divided up into various Houses, who were more or less unbeholden to any other House, or any other species for that matter. "Then who?"
"A man... as far as I could tell. But this wasn't an ordinary man." Samson taps his chest, right where the point where the energy blade pierced him. "He claimed to utilize the energies of the Darkness."
"Do you believe it?"
"Considering how he killed me, I'm inclined to believe so."
Zavala holds out his hand, and Samson hands over the Traveler shard. "How many did they take?"
"That was the only one left behind, and that's a small sample. They had ones that looked to be about the length of a rifle with them, but they must've broken them down into smaller pieces."
"Why would they?"
"The man leading them had other... things with them. Didn't belong to any of our regular foes. Best way I can describe them is akin to the Taken. He called them Dusks, and they were eating the shards of the Traveler."
"Eating them?" Zavala asks, his shock and disgust quite apparent from his tone.
"I think this Darkness-using guy's using those Dusks as pack mules to carry them where ever they may be now. He couldn't touch the shards without them shocking him." Plinkett pipes up
"I see..." Putting the shard away, Zavala looks at Samson. "I take it you wish to follow up on this figure to reclaim the shards of the Traveler."
Samson nods. "Yes, sir. And I will be certain to keep Idru and Ambress in the loop for..."
"No." Zavala's response is curt, and forceful.
"No?"
"No. We are still rebuilding our forces after the Red War. There are too few Guardians available to perform such an operation, especially if we are uncertain as to where they are, what their numbers are and the tactics they will use." He sees Samson begin to scowl. "I understand your frustration, but you need to understand that the City needs you focused on defending it and Humanity. With the Traveler awake and above us, we have to remain vigilant on what's here and what we can do now. We will find those shards, but as it stands their priority is secondary. Are we clear?" Seeing Samson clench his fist, Zavala repeats himself. "Are we clear?"
His grip loosens, and Samson sighs. "Yes, sir."
---
A few days have passed, and Samson's mind still turns towards the man in black, the Dusks and the lost shards of the Traveler. Having been remanded to the Last City for the time, he's been on edge. He understood Zavala's reasoning, but there was still a part of him saying that the Titan Vanguard was wrong in his decision. Stopping at a ramen shop, he takes a seat and orders a bowl. As he sits there, he hears someone sit beside him.
"So, someone seems a bit grumpy."
He sighs. He knew that voice. "I'm fine, Cayde." Samson's voice is flat, a slight bit of irritation leaking through.
"Okay, first off: Terrible bluff. You don't look at me, your face is a bit scrunched up like you need to use the bathroom and you're not exactly sounding friendly."
He finally looks over at Cayde-6. Exo with a sense of comedy, Vanguard of the Hunter-class Guardians, and overall irritant to Zavala, often following his gut rather than his orders. Samson can't help but look away again because of how much he didn't like Cayde.
"Bowl for me, as well, and put his on my tab." Cayde knocks on the countertop of the small food vendor, his metallic knuckles rapping against the lacquered wood.
"I don't need your charity."
"Still bitter about Zavala grounding you, eh?" Cayde sees Samson gaze over at him. "Your little dust-up with him isn't exactly the City's best kept secret."
"It wasn't a 'dust-up'. He felt that risking Guardians to find something important with such short numbers is too big a risk." He sees the bowl of ramen placed before him. Taking some hot sauce, he squirts it into his bowl. "His reasoning makes sense."
"But you still think it's BS, huh?" Cayde receives no response, as Samson has begun to eat his ramen. "Well, it kinda is, kinda isn't. We've got people who are more than capable enough to track down your dark monk man..."
Finishing his bite, Samson, stirs his ramen. "Doubt he's a monk."
"But they've all got missions. They're working Strikes, helping out across the system, doing patrols. And you... You've been a Guardian how long?"
"7 months." Samson quickly ingests another large clump of sauced noodles with some meat.
"That's barely any time at all. You haven't done anything except recon missions and a couple assassinations against Cabal and Taken. Zavala won't lay this job on you because you haven't proved yourself as a Guardian yet. He still sees you as a rookie."
Jabbing his chopsticks into his bowl so hard they break, Samson looks at Cayde, his eyes fierce. "So how do I change that, hm? How do I do that when I'm stuck here, or better yet, how can I do that when I want to strangle one of my fireteam members?"
"In what way?" Receiving yet another dirty look from Samson, Cayde continues on. "What I'm saying is that you need to take a risk. Put your neck on the line. Do something even... no, especially if it royally pisses Zavala off."
"So be you, basically."
"What? Of course not. There can be only one." Seeing his own bowl set in front of him, Cayde grabs his own chopsticks. "Well, that's enough advice from Uncle Cayde. It's chow time."
Seeing the Exo eat, Samson gets up, leaving his bowl there. "You can have mine."
"Fanks!" Rapidly slurping his ramen, Cayde quickly moves onto Samson's bowl.
Stepping away from the stall, Samson heads out of the Bazaar of the Last City and moves up back to the Courtyard, seeing a few Guardians run past him. Pausing as he gazes out at the rear of the Courtyard, he thinks for a few minutes, considering things. Eventually, he speaks up. "Plinkett?"
"Yes, Samson?"
"Were you able to perform a complete scan on the man in black?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But I was able to scan him long enough to record his energy signature."
"...could we track it?"
"We could, but the process wouldn't exactly be speedy. Why?" Looking over at Samson, Plinkett's holographic eye changes color, going from its regular white coloration to a more yellow tint. "Wait... You're not thinking of..."
"I hate to say it, but yes. And just us two."
"Wow. Not only are you gonna make Zavala really angry, but you're gonna make Idru want to blow you away in the Crucible when you get back."
"Should I be so lucky. Let's get out of here." Looking at Plinkett, both Guardian and Ghost transmat out of the Last City to their ship. They would be gone from the system in a short time, their disappearance not noticed until days later.
