The Gunslock

The burnt-blonde Shipwright scrolls through the 'Collections' of Exotics Guardians found in their journeys, analyzing their perks as she patiently waits to be called inside the most envied library in the City.

For some seconds, her emerald eyes fall on a pair of knightly silver Gauntlets that could be what she looks for. She ‘hmm’s to herself for a second, trying on some shaders, and nods in approval.

"Amanda, let's go."

Her head moves to pay attention to the Warlock that has just arrived at her usual spot at the Bazaar, greeting her with a nod as she stows her tablet away and is transmatted into the library. She makes a mental note of the name ‘Stronghold’. Shaxx would probably appreciate her dedication to swordplay.

Other pieces like Fr0st-EE5 and Transversive Steps, which do not require Light usage, would also benefit her while she fought. Good to know, good to know. So many loopholes to be exploited.

Ikora Rey had devoted the day to silent studying and rewriting of her books, still not completely updated after the Traveler’s awakening in recent times. In order to focus better, she does most of it quietly and alone in the library, save for the Hidden that appear to report to her on occasion. Today was an exception, for she allowed the Tower’s Shipwright to keep her company under the pretension that she wanted to learn, and there was no better teacher for that than Ikora.

Ikora’s library has dim, yellow lighting and a rustic aesthetic, with bookshelves and flooring made of dark wood covered with blue and white tapestry. The overall layout of the place was circular, the center having her desk and simple chairs and couches disposed about.

"So, Amanda." Ikora begins, making herself comfortable at the table and suggesting Amanda to do the same, across from her. "What do you seek?"

Amanda quietly taps her fingertips at the table, fidgeting as she tries to formulate a good reason.

"I wanna learn how to… to fight. Like y'all Guardians do."

Ikora doesn’t turn her head, but smiles.

“Is that so?”

“Uh… yeah?”

Ikora gives a chuckle as she finishes rewriting a page.

“I think not.”

“...Why not?”

Not faltering, Ikora turns her head to face her friend as she hovers her hand above the book. “Because if you wanted to learn how to fight, you would have asked Zavala. And, if the words I received are true... you already did.”

Amanda doesn’t have an answer to that, only looking at the desk and pressing her lips together, the inquietude only building up. She observes Ikora using an emanation of Solar heat to dry the ink on the pages.

“Ikora, I… want to be a Guardian. I thought I could ask you to teach me how to think like one.”

As the Warlock turns to the book again, she turns a page and looks at a previous version of the book, also spread open on another part of the table, for reference. “Okay. And why aren’t you?”

She is caught off-guard by this question. She struggles to let out her answer, and the next sentence comes out a bit more condescending than she’d hoped.

“Because I’m not a Lightbearer?” Amanda replies as if it was something obvious.

“During the Red War, we weren’t either.” Ikora says as she starts writing once more. “And I went through the same dilemma. I was lost. I looked to the ashes emanating from the City, and vowed… never again. And since I had nowhere left to go, I found myself on Io, in search for answers. As time passes me by, I realized I was left without answers, without Light, without my team... without anything to hold on to.”

“And then?”

“A Guardian found me. One of those who had made the pilgrimage to the Shard of the Traveler and recovered their Light. They could have refused, but they didn’t. They could have quit the fight, but even if they knew they were going to die, they didn’t. And their very presence reminded me that, while the terms are, indeed, very associable to the outside observer, they are not the same.”

The Shipwright listens intently as Ikora recounts her tale. There were many angles to this. Most, she didn’t consider. Multiple viewpoints are a virtue Guardians must possess.

“It took me some introspection and some... unprecedented incidents, for me to believe that I am more than just my Light, and in being greater than the Light, protecting it and the people who live through its influence is what made me who I am. So, as long as you strive to perfect yourself, you’ll always be one."

Ikora eyes her friend without turning her head this time. Her eyes are amiable, as fierce as they looked.

"A Guardian, Lightbearer or not... is always a Guardian.”

The Warlock delivered each part of that sentence in a very light, but thorough manner, a way that Amanda didn’t even think was possible. It was a nail she still had to hammer, that Guardians are more than just their Light.

During the Red War, Amanda had argued with Zavala after the Traveler was imprisoned and the Light lost. “There are thousands of people like me stranded down there in the City", she had said; “We're all the same now, Holliday. The Light is gone.” She was too angry to realize at the time, but looking back, she realizes she had taken the Guardianship for granted.

While she still didn’t like having to obey Zavala and leave citizens to die, it was paying off, in a way. Everything they did, they did for mankind. And it was beginning to thrive again, the best they could. She could feel it, even if her mission was far from over and new threats were still bound to come.

With a deep breath, she promises to face them gladly.

"Thank you, Ikora." The Shipwright says, eliciting a smile and a deep nod from the Vanguard that was still focused on writing the page.

Amanda pulls out her sketchbook and starts drawing over a sketch of herself. But before she continues, she has an idea for the final part of the 'secret-unnamed-project'.

"Can I, ah, look around for a book?”

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Yeah, actually. Wanna know where the name ‘Leviathan’ comes from.”

Ikora pulls up her own tablet, doing a query search for the word on the archive. It narrows down to multiple editions of a religious book from the old world, called ‘Bible’. Taking a break from writing, she hovers over to a particular section of the library, taking an intricate, gold-foil crafted book, meticulously turning its pages to where the query told her. “Job 41:1–34”, it said. She floats back to Amanda, laying the open book in front of her, before going back to her own seat.

She devours the verses, at first barely making heads or tails of what was on the pages. 'Why'd people back in the day write so weird?' She thought to herself. But eventually she managed to understand what it was about, and suddenly the name of Calus' ship made much more sense.

"Did you gather something new, my friend?"

Amanda recaps in her mind, making sure to try not to miss anything.

"Right, so- uh...” Amanda begins to explain her thoughts, trying not to let anything pass her by. “There was this man named Job, whose faith in this god couldn't be waived. In this part, the god is tryna teach Job how questioning a powerful being is futile by presenting him beasts so powerful that only he can control, one a them being a sea monster called, you guessed it, the Leviathan."

"How awfully appropriate."

"Yep. Apparently there were two beasts, a sea one, and a... land one."

Realization came into Amanda's mind as a name for her project finally snuck through her hands and into the paper.

"Reminds me of the World Serpent..." She adds nonchalantly, having doing some reading on the Edda in her free time back at Hiver’s place.

Ikora finally perks up from her book, stretching her writing hand. "You've been doing some homework."

"Hard not to, when you date a Warlock."

"And you are going to tell them about this… when?"

The one question Amanda dreaded, and it shows. Her 'Lightless Guardian' idea was nothing short of life-threatening, it's amazing she's got this far without being stopped.

Amanda had survived her whole life on the road, fighting off Fallen and hiding with hers and other families, but she would never, ever get rid of the pain of losing them. She survived and is happier than she's ever been, even if it's not a perfect life. Now, she was Hiver's family, and cannot bear the image of her lover having to go through the same — because of her own incompetence, nonetheless.

There was no telling how Hiver would react, the woman is already being a pile of anxieties, but of one thing she was sure.

It wouldn't be pretty.

“I don’t... know.“

"I can help if you'd like. But remember that this is your responsibility — and your burden."

She nods with a nervous face and gives a deep sigh.

“I’ll think of something. Can you take me back to the Tower?”

“Yes. And Amanda?”

“Yes?”

“Congratulations on finding love. Hold on to it. It is powerful.”

As nervous as she is, she nods smiling.

“Ophiuchus?” Ikora says to no one. Her Ghost, white and red and with spiking protrusions on the back of his shell, appears in the air next to her shoulder.

“One second.” He replies, spinning.

With a flash, Amanda is back at the Tower’s bazaar. Eyeing the drawing she has just finished, she runs to the Courtyard, in search of a person who could help her make it look much better.

Trying to ignore the built-up tension, she runs.

The Awoken woman stationed at the Tower Courtyard is, as usual, cleaning up dust and reorganizing her inventory, because it’s not home yet, but it would be. Then she hears a familiar voice calling to her.

“Tess!”

“Oh! Hello, Amanda. What can I do for you today?” Tess greets the Shipwright, assuming her usual hands-behind-back posture and giving her usual, welcoming smile.

“See, I got a lil’ project o’ my own, and wanted an expert’s opinion on how ta make it look the sharpest it can.”

Amanda presents the sketchbook with her sketch to Tess, who analyzes it meticulously.

It’s a suit of armor. Titan armor, to be more precise.

“Gothic knight inspiration… baroque decor… exquisite. Practical, but carries a lot of elegance. This looks incredible. Also, you draw extraordinarily well.”

“Thank you,” The Shipwright says, blushing. “But it lacks color. What would ya say works?”

“Excuse me.“

Tess takes the notebook into what appears to be a scanner, converting Amanda’s drawing into a digital projection that can easily be colored, and bringing it to the desk where they both could see it.

“Right, in my opinion the ornaments and trim should definitely be gold.” She says, quickly selecting the decorative parts of the plates and changing their colors to a light golden color. “The style reminds me of Gjallarhorn and the old Iron Lords’ armor. Maybe we can make it a bit more orange…”

“Would black fit with it, maybe?”

She changes the main plate colors to black. Tess and Amanda look at each other in disapproval.

“How about…” Tess changes the color to a deep blue.

“Can you try dark gray?” Amanda asks, and Tess obeys. However, it still seems to not fit, and they experiment with a midpoint between blue and gray.

“What do you think?”

“I like it.”

“Me too.”

Amanda scratches her nose, taking some time to think. The girls mix and match palettes for a while until finding one that fits the armor well.

Dark gray plates with crimson details, gold ornaments, and a white, gold-trimmed mark.

“Whew… Thank you, Tess. Anything I can do to repay ya?”

“The pleasure is mine. Although if you have some Silver on you…” Tess says, smiling smugly. “Just kidding.”

“My girlfriend does. She’ll probably come by again, she wants that duster you’re selling. Says she wants to look like a cowgirl.”

Tess laughs at this, eliciting a grin from Amanda, who picks her sketchbook and transfers the colored illustration file from the Awoken vendor to her own tablet, almost walking off and ready to send it to Crux/Lomar for forging.

“Oh, Amanda.”

“Yeah?” She turns back to face Tess.

“Does it have a name?” She asks in genuine curiosity.

Amanda smiles contagiously in pride, remembering what she read from the Bible in Ikora’s library. She had the perfect name for her project, given what was going down on the System — and how she’d fight it, if need be.

“The Behemoth.”

“A trickle upwards. They’re rotund. Makes head hard to hit.”

The girl delicately pulls the gilded Tatara Gaze a few degrees upwards. Its scope is now perfectly aligned with the head of the Red Legionary about to meet its swift demise as the neon-pink Hunter observes her aim, syncing her helmet’s HUD with the sniper’s sights.

“Now pull.”

With a powerful KA-BLAM, the bullet pierced through the air and promptly broke both the Cabal’s helmet and its head. Its surrounding companions were put in an alert state, but the women were way too far to be spotted.

“Exemplary performance, miss Holliday!” Frost complimented as she spun her shell around. Luna smiled behind her helmet. 

Amanda wasn’t as skilled with many weapons that weren’t a shotgun, and as much as punching stuff was fun, she couldn’t risk getting up close and personal with too many opponents. Hence why she asked Luna to bring her out in the wilds of the EDZ and train her with the other weapon archetypes. In exchange, maintenance of her ships would be free for the next six months.

“Let’s move.” Luna says as she starts to jog somewhere else, their cloaks flowing like wings behind their backs.

Most fun they’ve had in a while.

“So, Amanda...” The neon pink Hunter begins. “How’re you liking my war buddies? Any favorites?”

Amanda takes her sweet old time to think before answering. “Ah, hard ta decide. Pulses are fun, I think I’ll steal that Blast Furnace o’ yours if ya don’t mind. Can make our finger hurt, though. Fusion’s pretty great, I’ll be darned if it isn’t satisfying to watch stuff disintegrate.”

“Right?” Luna says with a chuckle.

“Still can’t decide on heavies. WHO, tell me, WHO makes a gun that BOUNCES? Can’t aim to save my life.”

The duo reaches a safe space above-ground, sitting under a tree to rest.

“Rockets are a bit more generous, but they don’t make ’em like they used to.” Amanda removed her galaxy-purple borrowed Neoteric Kiyot helmet.

The neon Hunter didn’t scare often, but when it came to the thought of her Stormcaller friend being livid, she made quadruple-sure to take an extra layer of care. So, she had lent her armor to Amanda for this little expedition. “Ah, I miss Tripod.”

“Can’t relate.”

“What do YOU use for a heavy?”

Frost transmats her heavy weapon, the same Taken sniper rifle Hiver had acquired weeks before. Whisper of the Worm. Amanda makes a face in disgust and turns her head to look at the horizon.

“Yeah, of course you would.”

Luna feels a bit stinged by it, but she understands where she comes from. Especially since she gave the accursed hand cannon Thorn to her girlfriend, who she made take a vow to never use it against Lightbearers.

“I’m sorry. Please trust us.”

Amanda puts her hand on her cheek as she observes the Fallen, Cabal and human ships going by. “You’re gonna have to earn that one. I like y’all but messing with souls is a whole ‘nother level.”

Luna nods as she stows away the pulsating rifle.

"Hey, Luna." Amanda catches her attention, fiddling with her gloves. "What's it mean to be a Hunter?"

She didn't reply outright, calling upon Frost to sit with them and channeling some Void energy in her hand, trying to formulate a coherent answer.

"Capes."

"...Really now?"

"No." The hunter says, stifling laughter. "I'd say it's about… cunning."

"Cunning."

"Yes. Adaptability, swiftness, precision on the draw, on the throw, on the cut. There is a whole world out there, most of it buried and forgotten. Gotta learn to survive it, so we can discover it, and learn from it." Luna stands up and walks to the edge of the rock they are sitting on. "Most times on yer own. Can't remember the amount of times I went days without seeing someone else."

Amanda stays silent, processing all of this information, gears spinning in her head.

"Thanks, Luna. Think I'll go home now, had plenty of training today. I'll ask Selene to give you your gear back."

They traded quiet waves as Amanda boarded her ship, on her way back to the City. Luna stayed at the rock, thinking about whatever Amanda was doing, before shrugging and flamboyantly throwing herself off of it, ready to parkour and shoot more aliens.

The next day, in a rare turn of events, Luna returns to the Tower to solve some business (among them, checking the new goods Tess was selling). After a while of running around, she decides to stop by the hangar, where, predictably, she found her Shipwright apprentice prying apart Sparrow engines.

“Hey. Amanda."

"Luna?" She gets up from her crouching position. She had gained muscle, specially on her arms and thighs, and the Hunter could swear she was a couple centimeters taller. "What's up?"

"I overheard something earlier. I was futzing in my vault when I could’ve sworn I heard Shaxx mention something about you and a sword...”

The Shipwright’s eyes widened, laughing nervously.

“...Oh, you did?”

The Hunter placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder, as she leaned in to whisper.

“Can't keep stuff from Hunters.”

She leaned back and regained her signature smirk, as she nodded to Frost.

“I won’t ask what it’s about, it’s none of my business. But in case you need a weapon, here ya go. This puppy’s done me some good over the years. Give ‘er a shot.”

She reached out and handed the shipwright a short gold-trimmed and razor sharp blade. It curved backwards near the tip, as if it were built for speed.

“Her name is Quickfang. Treat each other well, cool?”

Amanda analyzed the blade with her cold, mechanical precision, her grin betraying her childlike excitement over holding a new kind of weapon.

“Thanks, Luna, ya damn drama queen.”

Luna smiles brightly. "Anytime you wanna come n' give me a hand in the wilds, you lemme know. Learn a thing or two about being a Hunter. C'ya."

She says that in good humor, but that's all. For in her mind, she knew.

Amanda and Hiver went sightseeing after speaking to Petra in the Dreaming City. Even if she had another life to uncover, the human woman did her best efforts to reassure the Warlock that she is a wonderful person, and that it changed nothing of who she was now, and what she had done for the City and for her. After making sure her spirits were lifted, they part ways.

The shipwright sits at one of the safer rocks, away from the amount of enemies that plagued the lands around, whipping out her notebook. An idea rushed into her mind-- she couldn’t let it escape. Her lover’s words echoed in her ears.

“If someday I don’t come back, I want you two to take care of each other.”

The first piece was a reminder for Hiver that she belonged in the City. That she was a Stormcaller, that she was human first and foremost. That...

That she was unique. That she was Amanda’s safe space.

While she blushed and got entranced in thought, Hiver’s croquis and the information of the piece Amanda idealized were done. A duster, just like those in the pre-Golden Age western movies, they loved so much. But it had some add-ons that she thought Hiver was going to like.

Baby just designed her first Exotic!

She started sketching another one. A dirty little secret, she thought, grinning, as her pencil gave shape to the second humanoid figure on the paper.

Giving the finishing touches on the rough shape, making a mental note to finish it later, she puts her notebook away, looking at the horizon and sighing. Then she pulls her tablet, transmats into her jumpship, and starts typing a text message for when she arrived.

FROM: A. Holliday, Chief Shipwright

TO: Victor Crux; Feizel Lomar;

SUBJECT: Armor price estimation request.

The Titan’s fist wheezed near her face, so close that some of her burnt blonde hair strands were blown to the side from the gust of air it created. She manages to crouch under a second blow and launch a fist straight into the mighty man’s face, hitting him straight on the cheek.

“Well done, Holliday.” He complements. “You are learning fast.”

“Thank you, Commander.” She replies, wiping sweat off her face. “Can we take a break?”

He nods and they both sit in one of the gym’s benches, away from the mat they previously sparred on.

Commander Zavala was surprised, but pleased when his Ghost relayed Amanda’s message to him. It wasn’t one of her usual messages talking about parts for jumpships, budgeting or days off to spend with her girlfriend.

Rather, she asked for ‘sparring lessons’.

While he didn’t understand the meaning of such a sudden idea, he gladly agreed to help her. So, they set a schedule and place in one of the many training halls used to get Guardians to shape, or just when they want to show off.

Still didn’t explain why she decided to trade punches with one of the most notorious Titans in the history of the City. So, like his fighting style, he decided to be upfront about it. He looked at his protégé as she wiped her collarbone and neck with a towel.

“Holliday?”

“Sir?”

“Why did you ask for my assistance, so suddenly?” His stone-set expression betrayed some genuine curiosity. “Can you not count on Hiver to protect you?”

“That’s exactly why.”

“Hm.”

He took a swig from a water bottle, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Sure, she’s powerful, bein’ a Guardian and all, bein’ all ‘bout gunplay and Arc Light,” She makes exaggerated motions with her hands as she talks, specially finger guns. “But… we’re intelligent. And in that, I realized there may come a time where I can’t afford to be ‘protected’, or ‘saved’.”

Zavala listened intently, his memory calling back to those Lightless Guardians who died their final deaths during the Red War. Those he couldn’t save, even if he wanted to. And thus, he did not enjoy what was coming.

“If it does come, I want to be able to fight with her. Whether that means using mom’s shotty again, or killing stuff with one punch like you do. Or, even better… shielding my friends so no one would have to die.”

“Amanda.”

She knew exactly what came next. Amanda has had one lifetime. Zavala has had dozens, and in these dozens he had both found good things — and had a lot taken away from him. The prospect of losing his quasi-daughter to the Darkness’ brutal crusade weighed heavily on his mind, but he did his best to not let it show.

Didn’t work.

“I know, Zavala.”

She remembers, clear as sunrise, the day that the Red Legion laid siege to the City, and she had to fly through the biggest war she had ever witnessed, abandoning her home and its citizens to take Zavala to Titan.

Amanda’s tablet flickers its screen on. Crux/Lomar had just responded to her mail about her project. She had to remember to pay them later.

Her pride never recovered from abandoning everything she loved to save his and her own skin. So, next time that happens — if there ever is one — she wants to go out with a bang. In her own terms, beside the woman she loved, wielding the gun that saved her childhood, making her fellow Citizens and Guardians proud that someone else had joined the fight.

She wonders where Hiver was during that time.

Zavala snaps out of his own memories and notices her starting to get lost in thought, but they have a silent understanding. He smiles, rubbing a comforting, trusting hand on her back, and speaks his mind.

“Perhaps you’d make an excellent Guardian, Amanda.”

She smiles back.

“Let’s go another?” The shipwright proposes, cracking her hand bones and fantasizing about the next things she would do.

It is a dangerous path, but she treads it gladly.

Clearing her mind, they get into position as she raises her fists once more.

"PUT YOUR SOUL INTO IT, GUARDIAN!"

She was no Guardian, and was pretty unsure of how much soul she had left to put into it.

Not like that was going to stop the Titan's motivational booming anyway. Unlike Zavala, Shaxx personally made sure that training always got rougher, to the point one could barely discern it from real action.

Today, he had Amanda do rope climbing and swinging.

With weights on her torso, hands and feet.

She was doing well for the first routines, but made a slip on the seventh set, causing her to fall spectacularly on the soft foamy pads below. While recovering from the effort, the Shipwright did not expect to see Shaxx's hand hovering above her, offering help to rise up again.

"Thought you were all for bein' rough." She says as she grunts, making the heinous effort to get up, with his help.

"I am." He nods behind his helmet. "When needed. Being rough on the recruits does not mean I can't be generous to those in need." He starts taking the weights off the girl. "Part of being a Guardian, Amanda."

She makes a mental note of this. She had never thought of what makes a Guardian 'a Guardian'. From the stories she heard, the Traveler chose all kinds of people, from all backgrounds and all natures.

“How am I doing, Shaxx?” She asked, panting. He looked at her figure, her arms and trapezoids toned by years of mechanic work and her recent throwdowns with him and Zavala. But her most intriguing characteristics were her eyes, young but fierce, lit up a jeweled green with a newfound spark.

“You’d look much better with a sword.” He says, chuckling at his own joke. Amanda was bemused, but smiled to humor him anyway.

“Honestly? Let me just say that the Crucible would be a lot more interesting if those new Lights had half the force of will that you do.” He switches his tone to be gentler. It’s the way he has of conveying his honesty behind his helmet and many years of discipline. “We could have used someone like you in the City’s old battles, Amanda.”

“Thank ya.”

“However,” he shifts his once-positive speech into a firmer one. “I am sure Zavala has told you that, but remember. You have ONE life. Pick your battles. And when you do...” He pats her on the back. “Make sure you win, will you?”

She chuckles. “Of course.”

“Good.” He says, shifting to his usual ‘fists-in-waist’ posture. “That will be all for today. Those Crucible matches won’t oversee themselves.”

Amanda nods at him and picks up her bag with the training gear she’s been hoarding over the last weeks, ready to walk out and back home. Suddenly, an idea hits her. “Shaxx.”

“What is it?”

“Mind if I take you up on that sword offer?”

He lets out a booming laughter, proud to possibly have a disciple to pass his craftsmanship and tactics to. “Absolutely! Come by whenever!”

She gives him a thumbs-up and leaves the arena. On the way home, she checks her tablet and transfers the Glimmer to Crux/Lomar, eager for Hiver’s gift to be completed. She still needs to work on her “secret-project-she-doesn’t-have-a-name-for-yet” as well. While she enters Luminosity Heights, she ponders for a while, and opens up a new window on her tablet, patching through to “NS:L723”.

“I yearn for the day she’ll notice no one uses these numbers.”

Soon a streak of green appears on her screen, and her human companion turns to face her after talking to her Ghost. Apparently she is piloting her jumpship at the moment.

“Amanda? Wassup, what can I do ya for?”

“Hey Luna. Gotta little job for ya, if you’re interested. Just don’t tell Hiver yet.”

The Hunter looks to Frost, concerned but clearly interested in what Amanda had to say.