Nostalgia: A Destiny Fanfic

[b]Cis-Jovian Spaceport: Titan Orbit[/b] Ginger strolls through the diner, abandoned and worn beyond repair through centuries of disrepair. During the final years of the Golden Age, architects began modeling their structures after buildings from the Pre-Traveller area; this specific diner was reminiscent of a 1950s restaurant. Booths and tables that had been unused for centuries sat caked in layers of dust and memories, and through some miraculous phenomenon the plasma screens remained active, despite centuries of entropy. Beyond this diner was the massive Hypergate: a device used by Golden Age colonists to explore planets far beyond the Solar System, literally bending space and time so that one could instantaneously visit far away places. Most marvels such as this had long been destroyed, taken from humanity alongside Freehold, the Ishtar Academy, the Warminds... And like Selena. Ginger sighed in remorse as his those scanned the room for the necessary Ether stains, the ones he had been sent to investigate. Ginger wasn't his real name, obviously, but it was the only one he wished to be called by. That was what she had called him when she and her ghost had revived him, the ginger Martian sand caking along his skin and hair. He was relatively young for a Guardian, only 21 years old: a Striker adorned in matte black armor, with grey shadowing and ginger markings along the contours of the plates. He used to be a jovial, witty Guardian who enjoyed nothing more than the company of his peers, but now he was but a hollow shell of who he was, hopelessly lost in the past and forever pondering the future. Currently, he rambled to Selena's ghost... His ghost, about the Darkness. "I don't hate the Hive. They are the antithesis of the Light, and they bear a primordial hatred for us. Their actions are dictated by their nature, and by their gods, and in their dedication to duty I respect them. The Fallen are the true blight on the Solar System. They are a broken race of thieves and scavengers, who broke our civilization and slaughtered billions simply to claim what was rightfully ours. They have no honor, no remorse, and no right to our land. That, Ghost, is why I hate them so much." He bent down to investigate a large blotch of ether; an unclean batch, likely belonging to a drag that had been capped here no less than a hour before. The Fallen were quick, but surely a forces as large as was amassed here couldn't leave within such a short amount of time. As if on cue, he heard the graceful whirr of nearby skiffs, likely tracking his motion signature. He had only a little time, and he couldn't let rage arbitrate his actions, so a cool calm washed over him. He couldn't win against such a large force alone, regardless of his skill, so he had to think fast... [b]A Few Minutes Later:[/b] When the Fallen finally arrived, they wasted no time on their assault, attacking from all sides. The first few who came through the doors were greeted by a delayed lightning grenade, frying them inside their armor. The next wave wasn't as impulsive, and opened fire from outside the doorway opposite from their fallen comrades, but their shots only collided with the barricaded tables Ginger had set up. Quickly getting up from behind cover, Ginger opened fire with a Pulse Rifle, the well-balanced Baryon-Mce, and wiped them out with several well placed bursts. Predicting what the Fallen would do next, he quickly boosted himself into the air with lift, punched through the ceiling vent above his barricade, and placed a lighting grenade horizontally across the shaft, killing the Fallen scampering towards him. For a moment, there was silence, until suddenly a Baron warped behind Ginger unexpectedly, ripped apart his barricade, and threw him on the floor from where he hung, despite a belated warning from his Ghost. Ginger heard the snap as his rifle broke beneath him, and realized with a jolt that he was unarmed against a large Fallen host. Thinking quickly, he kicked off the Baron, but not before it impaled him with a shock blade in his upper chest, just below his collarbone, and when he got away the blade remained inside of him. He ran towards a nearby wall and leaned against it, feigning severe injury, which wasn't that hard with a stab wound opening up near his shoulder. With a start, he remembered how Selena, a Bladedancer far weaker than he, would always manage to beat him by using the environment to her advantage. It was the most deadly weapon in your arsenal, so she used to say. The Baron got up and roared in fury as he made his way towards Ginger, his shields glowing in iridescent light. "Ghost... Stand by for resurrection." Ginger ripped the blade out of his shoulder, and with a powerful slash, cut through the screen on the Plasma screen, spilling its contents onto the Baron's shields. The plasma coalesced on the Eliksni's shielding, eating away at it with a ravenous hunger. As the shifts fell, and the plasma dissipated alongside it, Ginger hurled himself towards his foe, projecting all of his force and placing it inside his shoulder as he rammed into the Baron's chest. Ether spilled out of its mandibles as the Fallen's chest caved in, and it grunted in pain as the light left its eyes. Ginger's ghosts materialized beside him, speaking as it did so. Ginger simply appeared lost in thought [Ghost]: "Good work... She would have been proud, you know." [Ginger]: "No... Not until I finished what I started. Come Ghost, let's finish these bastards." [Ghost]: "You always take me to the cheeriest of places..." ________________________________________ (To be continued... Open for criticism or compliments. This was my first piece, for the record.)