Chapter 8: The Journal

While Sagan, Stall and Zula make their escape from Ishtar Academy, Sonja_Red goes off to look for her friend Vorra the Witch, who takes to fight in the Crucible to vent her anger.

Zula was sprinting through the halls of Ishtar Academy, while carrying the incapacitated Sagan-7 under her arm.

Stall struggled to keep up, but he managed.

“I can see the exit!” exclaimed Stall, while hugging his book.

“Hold on…” shouted Zula as she came to an abrupt stop, sparks flying from her boots as she did. “It’s never as easy as it seems with the Vex…” she said, grabbing the back of Stall’s cloak so he wouldn’t get ahead.

“Ah, Whiplash!” he shouted.

Zula pulled Stall back, and let go of his cloak.

“Quit manhandling my student!” shouted Sagan, still being carried by Zula.

Zula chuckled, as she let go of Sagan, his body dropping with a metallic clank. She took cover behind a crumbling pillar, and looked down the scope of her scout rifle, to see if the entrance was clear.

Stall stumbled to Sagan’s side, and dragged him to the pillar Zula was at. “left leg.” He said.

Sagan sighed.

“Not again…Help me up will ya?”

Stall helped his teacher up, and propped his bum knee on the ground. It was like posing a very large action figure.

Zula saw clouds forming near the entrance through her scope. “Just as I thought…The Vex were waiting for us…” she said, trading her scout rifle for a sniper rifle, a behemoth of a weapon that only a Titan could carry, or two Warlocks, maybe 3 hunters if they put their backs into it. The gun itself was about as tall as Stall and loaded with bullets so massive they could knock an asteroid off its course.

Sagan leaned on his good leg, and took aim with a sniper rifle of his own. Although nowhere near as impressive as Zula’s ‘space dragon bazooka’, his was taken off the corpse of a Fallen Vandal. Often left behind for its ugly design, Sagan favored it for its accuracy and power.

Stall had yet to amass an armory of his own, so he simply took out his favorite piece and took aim, a standard issue handcannon with no special modifications.

Zula looked to her side, and saw Stall’s weapon of choice. She sighed.

“Hey kid, unless there are some invisible standing right in front of us, you’re not going to hit anything with that.”

“Well…I don’t have anything long range…” said Stall, lowering his gun.

A scout rifle materialized in Zula’s hand, it was different than the one she was using before.

“The Jericho is a good piece. It’s got a SureShot IS, and fires as fast as you can pull the trigger, this gun got me through the battle of seven peaks. It’s taken the heads of many fallen, hive, cabal and the like.” She paused. “This gun shoots itself.” She handed the piece to Stall. “All yours kid.”

“Wait…you’re giving it to me?!” Stall exclaimed, holding the rifle in his hands, aiming down the sight.

“Yeah, sure.” She took aim with her sniper rifle. “It’s got no sentimental value to me.”

“But wait…What was all that about the battle of the seven peaks and the heads?”

“It’s never a good idea to cling to the past kid. Besides, it’s just a gun. I got plenty more where that came from.” Zula’s tone was very cold, and apathetic, but genuine, and inspiring at the same time.

Sagan put a hand on Stall’s shoulder. “How do you feel boy? Some faint after hearing Zula’s pep talks.”

“Well…Inspired…but also look at this thing! Zula said she used it in the battle of the Seven Peaks!” Stall showed Sagan the gun.

Sagan examined it, and noticed that the gun looked brand new. Not only that, but he had fought alongside Zula during the Battle of Seven peaks. He knew that she used pulse rifles then, and hadn’t made the switch to scout rifles until the battle of the Twilight Gap. 

Sagan laughed. “That’s Zula for you…”

“What? What is it? Why’re you laughing?”

“Nothing...It’s a fine weapon, just…brings me back.” Sagan paused. Here, don’t worry about the Vex, me and Zula will take care of it. How’s about you get cracking on that book, maybe you might uncover the secrets of the universe…:

Stall nodded, as he rested the gun against the collapsed pillar, he sat cross legged, tucking his robes as if he were a wearing a dress, and laid the book on his lap. He wiped what appeared to be dust off the cover of the book, running his hand over the red Vex eye, which glew when it felt his presence.

“Guardian…” hissed something.

 Stall looked over his shoulder, and then he looked at the book. “Talking book?”

“Help…” hissed the book as its eye grew brighter.

“A talking book…now this has got to be a joke.” pondered Stall. “Ghost, analyze this thing”

Stall’s ghost materialized next to his head. It hovered towards the book, and scanned it. Stall opened the book, and flipped through its contents. The pages were dark and damp, but the text was very much legible. The ink had a subtle glow.

Stall read aloud the first passage of the book.

“I am not used to writing down my thoughts, but I don’t want to be forgotten. The Vault has already claimed one from my team, a warlock, his name was Praedyth, although I am not certain, as I am writing this, my memory of him wavers. He wasn’t just killed, or obliterated. Our ghosts have no record of him whatsoever.  It’s as though he was erased from time itself. We must press on, and should our Ghosts have no memory of us, then this journal will prove them wrong. Should the Vault claim me, know that I am Kabr the legionless.”

Stall’s eyes widened. He slammed the book shut, and gazed upon the glowing red eye once more.

“It can’t be…” he said under his breath.

“Scan complete” said the ghost.

Stall gulped.

“What have you got?”

“The binding of the book contains parts from Vex armor plating and the shell from…wait. That can’t be right.”

“You’re always right Ghost…” Stall pulled at his collar. “What’s so unbelievable?”

Stall’s Ghost hovered towards the book.

“The remains of Kabr’s Ghost.”

 

 

 

 

“And then I impaled him with the flag…” said an enthralled Stryker_Omega to a group of fellow Titans. He was in the Crucible airlock, a place where Guardians congregate while their crucible matches are getting set up. It came fully stocked with rations, weapons, ammo, and places to rest. It was essentially his home given the amount of time he spent there.

“That’s nuts!” exclaimed one Titan.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just punch him in the face?” said the other Titan.

“You can’t solve all your problems by punching things in the face…” said Stryker, putting his hands on his hips.

The Titan’s eyes widened, Stryker then broke out in laughter.

“I’m joking. Of course you can, come on.”

Stryker’s ghost materialized, and hovered towards his head.

“Someone wants to fight you.” Said his ghost.

“Who doesn’t, what makes this one so special.” Stryker said looking at his Ghost.

 Ghost lowered itself to a foot above a table. He projected the hologram of a female warlock, wearing all black. The hologram was cackling and showing lewd gestures.

“Meet your opponent…Vorra the Witch…” said the ghost.

The two other Titans gasped. Stryker crossed his arms.

“HER?!” exclaimed one.

“You mean Vorra the Witch is actually going to fight in the Crucible?” said the other.

“Vorra the Witch eh?” Stryker laughed, and slammed his fist down on the table, disrupting the hologram. “I have no idea who this person is but I accept their challenge!”

“Perfect, this is her first crucible match, so how’s about we do a standard 2 versus 2 match. Give her a little wiggle room. Make things a little more interesting.” said Stryker’s Ghost.

“Sure, why not.” said Stryker.

The two other Titans shot up from their seats.

“But I choose to fight alone.” said Stryker to his ghost, ignoring his peers.

“I knew you would.” Stryker’s ghost disappeared, and Stryker took a seat. “You will be transported to the fight momentarily.” The Ghost’s disembodied voice said.

The two other Titans sat down as well, very stoked to watch the upcoming match.

“So you have no idea who Vorra the Witch is?” said one Titan.

Stryker leaned back in his chair.

“Nope.” He replied.

“She’s bad people…” said the other Titan.

“I’ll see for myself.” Said Stryker.

 

 

 

Sonja_Red was steaming. She was marching along the promenade of the Tower, trying to chase after Vorra.

“You are overreacting Sonja!” said Red’s ghost, hovering beside her head.

Red was looking around for anyone that resembled a warlock.

 “Can you locate her?” she asked

“No.” her Ghost replied.

“GHOST!” she said running down a corridor towards Tower Norte.

“Yes! Yes I can. One moment.”

Red leaned against a wall, and crossed her arms. She was tapping one finger impatiently against her bicep.

“Oh dear…” her Ghost muttered.

“What is it?” she asked.

“She’s in the crucible, Says she’s about to fight Stryker_Omega, better known as ‘The Wolf of the Crucible’. Well known in the Crucible circuit, very dangerous.”

Red slammed her hand against the wall.

“The Wolf of the Crucible huh…” she paused. “Well, I’ve never heard of the guy. Take me there!” She said, pushing herself off the wall.

The Ghost sighed.

“Very well.”