Chapter 55: Ex Lucis

Guardian

a Worm/Destiny Crossover

Chapter 55: Ex Lucis

As luck would have it, one of things the Ellisburg Invasion and Containment Task Force – as it was officially known – had in spades was guns. They had more guns than they had people to shoot them. It was a sobering thought to have, wandering among the piles of rifles and pistols and shotguns, the boxes of empty magazines and bullets. Crate after crate of grenades. The invasion had gone about as well as it could have, under the circumstances. Parahumans and soldiers working together had gone a long, long way towards making this whole thing as bloodless as possible.

But Rinke being the petty little tyrant he was, he'd seen the end coming and dug in his heels. It was turning the containment into a meat grinder. Scratch that, it had become a meat grinder. Oh, progress was being made, and no mistake, but the deaths...

She should be afraid. That thing, that living nightmare from – from elsewhere hadn't just beaten her, it had tortured her. It had laughed at the pain it caused her and promised an eternity of more. She'd believed it, had known that without Spike it would have followed through on its promise, and even with Spike it had been a near thing. She knew that there were others like it, down in the tunnels. There had to be. It was the only thing that made sense. Maybe the ones down in the dark were worse. That thought should scare her. The sense of her ribs still, two hours after killing that thing, fixing themselves should scare her.

But...

It didn't.

She wasn't scared.

When was the last time she'd been afraid? Florida, with the Swamp Thing? The immediate aftermath was a haze for her, but the fight itself and the hospital were clear. She'd hadn't felt fear. In the fight there was anger and hate and the flooding rush of Light, and after was concern and empathy and the beginnings of something she was starting to think had been love, but fear?

No.

When Ghost had found her – Christ, was it really only a year ago? – and made her a Guardian, he'd given her something. Her life, to start with. He saved her life. She would always, always be grateful for that. She loved him for the friendship he'd given her in those short days, the first in years. He had, without question, given her so much. It was only now, as she filled a pair of bandoliers with shells for a shotgun still slightly stained with the blood of its previous bearer, that she considered – intentionally or not – he may have taken something from her as well.

It would have to wait. Activity was kicking up. People were running to and from places, which meant something was either about to happen or just had. Soldiers and parahumans alike were coming to the tables, picking over the weaponry for the munition of their choice. She slung the heavy shotgun over one shoulder and moved to the pistol munitions, looking for the caliber that matched her pistol. It took a moment to find in the sea of choices, but she did, and set around filling a half dozen speed loaders. After dithering for a moment, she grabbed a quartet of grenades. No one looked sideways at a sixteen – nearly seventeen, to be fair – year old girl carrying enough firepower to start and finish a minor war by herself.

Introspection, and the questions she had about herself, could wait. Between soul-searching and making sure Rinke couldn't hurt anyone again, couldn't twist people, body and soul, into wretched mockeries of living things, was an easy pick.

Before and after everything else, she was a Guardian. She had a job to do.

=Chapter 55: Ex Lucis =+=

That which had just happened: The Triumvirate, descending like angels of vengeance from on high, made the decision that Rinke didn't have another day to live. He didn't have another five hours to live. They were very insistent, and very easy to agree with. The collected military generals wasted little time in deliberation. A gathering began, of soldiers and parahumans, near the Breach. At their front stood a immobile figure in black, a white lighthouse emblazoned on her breast.

Alexandria herself would lead the charge. Behind her would follow Brutes, behind them Blasters, and behind them everyone else. The idea, gathered from Taylor and Spike's report, was to use the durability of the Brute line to blunt the weapons of the Enemy. The spearhead, led by Alexandria herself, would be first in. They would hit like a meteor and leave only dregs behind. Everyone who followed the spearhead was to clean up the mess, work in teams to eliminate the Enemy that remained. It was a solid plan, loose enough to adapt on the fly as things went wrong.

Which they would. Nobody standing at the Breach held any illusions. People were going to die. A lot of people. This was an advance that would be paid for in blood and fire. Everyone knew, and yet no one stepped away. The force was all-volunteer, it had to be, for no could in good conscience give an order to charge head first into a meat grinder. No one stepped away.

That which was about to happen: Alexandria would turn an implacable gaze onto the passage below, which lay not too far from where she stood, and wait a moment. Then, she would turn back to the gathered forces and speak. Her speech would be short, and to the point. It would contain neither flattery nor lies, and make no promises. It would be, as analyzed later by speechwriters the world over, not very good.

Which would be true. But then, after she finished speaking, Alexandria would turn back to the passage below and begin walking. Her cape would snap out behind her as she would stride over the shattered ground. Behind her, caught in her gravity, others would follow. The few would become many, then become all. As she began to run, those behind her would too.

A force of less than two hundred, charging across blighted earth. Beneath their feet, darkness waited. The speech wasn't very good. Nobody cared about that, because everything that needed to be said already had been. Taylor didn't care, she hadn't heard anything since she'd arrived at the Breach. All she could hear, all she could feel, even as the Brute spearhead hit the breach with an earth-shaking impact, was Light.

That which was happening: an ending.

=+= Chapter 55: Ex Lucis =+=

Taylor's breath came in harsh pants. Her cloak, her clothes, tattered, covered in grime and sweat and black ichor. Her rifle, empty and shattered across her back. She'd run out of magazines long before running out of things to shoot. The tunnels were shotgun work, anyway, and she was finding the thunder and recoil of the heavy gun reassuringly solid. The darkened halls were light by witchlight-green and the flash of firearms, of lasers and flame and whatever-the-fuck. Screamers flooded out of a corner pocket, shrouded in darkness so thick it swam like oil. She fired and fired again, working the slide with satisfying thuds until the gun ran empty and they were upon her.

Howl came to her hand, burning bright and full of wrath. A sinous river of silver scales and flame writhed past her and fell upon the horde, howling with rage and glee. She pushed on, finding a big blade pressing hard on a grime-covered figure in blue armor. Her first cut dug deep into its neck. The man took the opportunity given him to decapitate the creature with a halberd. Armsmaster stopped long enough to give her a grateful nod before pushing forward. She followed, and they dove into the enemy's teeth.

Down and down they went, fighting and killing and dying through tunnels and caves, past pools of swirling gray-and-black, across the top of a quartz dome, glittering and gleaming in the dim light.

They did not tire.

They did not falter.

They did not fail.

Taylor fanned the hammer of her pistol, shooting six leaping enemies out of the air in midstride, before turning to put her first into the skull of one that tried to sneak up on her. It reeled, and was shredded by a dazzling array of blue-white, crystalline energy. Narwhal flew past, singing at the top of her lungs. All around her, the Enemy died. Taylor had time enough to holster her pistol and take up Howl again before the push came back and carried her onwards.

=+= Chapter 55: Ex Lucis =+=

Through it all, people died. Each death hitting like a hammer, adding to the push even as the bodies were left behind. A girl in black and red with a sun in her hands died to a pair of alien sword wielders, who were torn to pieces by her surviving teammates. A giant picked up Battery and bit her in half. Assault, mad in grief and rage, turned it to jelly before the push dragged him away. Taylor saw him later, lying still and surrounded by ichor-splashed corpses.

Miss Militia died when the Enemy dropped a cave on them to slow their assault, crushed by rockfall even as she pushed Dauntless to safety. No one ever saw Triumph die, only finding his leonine helmet, cut down the middle and covered in blood.

Then it was Kaiser, a forest of blades in a grotto of stone forever marking the place he fell.

Then, Oni Lee. Another cave-in triggered by a suicidal charge.

Then Chevalier, killing nine giants before succumbing to the tenth he was too tired to react to in time.

Hookwolf.

Purity.

Velocity.

Prism.

Adamant.

Rime.

Skjoldur.

Spike.

=+= Chapter 55: Ex Lucis =+=

Then they came to the throne room. It was carved stone pillars supporting a vaulted ceiling. A pair of long, low obsidian tables ran the length of it. At the far end was a dais, atop which was a large throne. In that throne sat a man. A fat man with pale skin and squinted eyes, hair going gray. Alexandria flew towards him, and he pointed with a shaking arm, screaming for his guards, spittle flying.

His guards came. Huge, alien beings that stepped out of witchlight-lined holes in the world. They held up their hands and threw violet fire that burned whatever it touched into ash. Taylor killed one with Howl, gutting it and screaming into its inscrutable, diamond-shaped face as it died. She'd been screaming for a while. Ever since Spike. She threw the body to the ground and turned to vent her rage, her grief on the others, only to find that Alexandria had ignored their flame and torn them apart.

She landed, and started walking towards the throne. Taylor followed, hands shaking. She felt...

Rinke said something.

Alexandria said something back.

Then Rinke looked at Taylor. He said, "They said you'd –"

Crack!

A bloom of red on his chest. He jerked back, staring at her with wide eyes.

Crack!

Another bloom. She started walking.

Crack!

People were shouting. She thought someone would stop her. The closest person was Alexandria, who only watched.

Crack!

Rinke tried to say something. Blood and spit gurgled from his mouth. She stood less than a foot from him. She felt...

Crack!

=+= Chapter 55: Ex Lucis =+=