Double Draw

OLD CHICAGO, NORTH AMERICAN DEAD ZONE

Many, many years from now

A lone Dreg wandered through the streets of Old Chicago, scrounging around for pieces of scrap metal or electronics, maybe even get lucky and find an engram. It was a runt, the smallest and weakest of the once-proud Eliksni civilisation, now reduced to scavengers and pirates after the Whirlwind.

The term the humans of Earth had given them, the Fallen, was astoundingly appropriate.

They were once a proud and noble civilisation, having built great cities and starships to sail the cosmos, their people well-fed Ether that always flowed. This was all thanks to the Great Machine, the mysterious and unimaginably powerful machine god that had come to their world many centuries ago.

That all was lost when the Whirlwind struck, a great cataclysm that left their home in ruins, the Great Machine abandoning them in the process and fleeing. The Eliksni chased it for centuries until finally finding it here on this planet known as Earth, with its inhabitants calling it the Traveler.

Like the Whirlwind, much of the same had happened here, known as the Collapse locally.

The Dreg paused and looked around it, to the city that had laid in ruins for centuries. It was too young to remember the Whirlwind, or even the Eliksni homeworld of Riis, but to the ones old enough to live through it, the sight was very familiar.

The streets of the once-bustling metropolis were empty and desolate, a thick layer of fog clinging to the ground. A cool breeze blew through the city, in between crumbling skyscrapers and the rusted remains of vehicles, rustling the leaves of trees and shrubs and other bits of vegetation that had since reclaimed the urban ruin.

Much of the city's streets were flooded, turned to swampland with shallow basins of stagnant water. Frogs croaked on the sides of the many creeks, hoping to catch a meal from the swarms of flies buzzing around. The bent and twisted remains of a traffic light at a junction blinked on and off, still seeming to do its duty in spite of the total lack of traffic.

From what the Dreg had heard, a Guardian once stumbled upon an experimental weapon from humanity's Golden Age in this very city: a pulse rifle that fired miniature black holes.

There was no way it was that lucky, though.

The Dreg sighed, closing its four eyes that glowed a bright blue from the Ether that gave the Fallen life. Had to fill the quota. Had to get the Ether. It'd heard that the Spider over at the Tangled Shore was an ideal employment. The Ether always flowed in his company. Once again, however, there was no way it was that lucky. The only one who had a ship was Efyriks, the Captain of the crew it belonged to, and the proud owner of its small fleet of Skifsf.

Going back to scavenging, the Dreg suddenly noticed a red glare out of the corner of its eye. It turned to see that it was coming from the top of an apartment building, the one that had a tree growing through it. It squinted, trying to make out what it was. Maybe it was something valuable, something that would finally promote it to the rank of Vandal.

Then, suddenly, there was a flash, and just as suddenly, the Dreg's head promptly disintegrated. Ether poured out through its neck like smoke, before it collapsed to the ground. The sound of a gunshot ringing out through the empty streets followed a second later, echoing throughout the buildings.

From his perch on the roof of the building next to some A/C units, Greyson Ryder lowered his gun, the Exotic sniper rifle Borealis. Only a few were ever made, and he just so happened to stumble upon the Engram containing the weapon by pure chance while on patrol years ago.

"Forty-seven," said the Hunter, voice smooth and with a certain accent that once belonged to inhabitants of the southern reaches of the country once known as 'The United States of America'.

He was a Guardian of the Last City, of the Hunter class. The immortal protectors of humanity and the Traveler's Chosen.

"Nice shot, but I don't think we can spend all day sniping Dregs," his Ghost replied, accent very similar to his Guardian. Saratoga materialised right next to his head. The small robotic drone had a rather intricate shell around its singular optic. Wood and gold, with several engravings on it. The trademark features of anything made by Tex Mechanica. "We've got a job to do, you know?"

The Hunter rolled his eyes, standing up and letting the dim light illuminate his form. His arms were covered by the Anti-Extinction Grasps, torso the Intrepid Discovery Suit, and his legs the Lucky Pants Exotic leg armour. Around his neck and draped over his shoulders was A Cloak Called home, the light grey fabric blowing in the gentle breeze. Covering his head was the Neoteric Kiyot helmet.

All of his armour pieces had the drab grey Dead Orbit Camo Shader applied to them.

"Pfft. Nothing else to do around here but wait for Efyriks to show his ugly head," Grey hopped off the edge, his cape flowing as he fell. He landed on a collapsed portion of the building that formed a sort of ramp, sliding it down to the bottom and landing in the moss-covered soil and dashing over to the next building.

They'd been in Old Chicago a while, tracking down a wanted bounty posted by the Spider. The old Fallen crime boss wasn't exactly the most trustworthy source, but he paid well, and always went through on his deals. Grey had tracked the Captain to a cluster of old office buildings in Downtown Chicago, one of which had collapsed and was leaning against another. It had obviously held for a long time, because trees were growing from the broken windows.

Problem was, Efyriks never really seemed to be there at all. Grey had searched every single building there with the help of his Ghost, and the Captain always seemed to be somewhere else.

"Wanna cross your fingers he's there today?" Saratoga asked, flying right behind him.

"Just like I have for the past week? No, I'll be counting on my lucky stars today," Grey replied, coming to another apartment building, one that provided an excellent vantage point. He put away his rifle and took a step back. Then he jumped. Midair, he made the motion of jumping again. His feet met an invisible platform of Light, propelling him upwards once more. He grabbed the fire escape, pulling himself up and then repeating the acting once more.

He landed on both feet at the top, drawing Borealis and making his way towards the edge. He crouched down, looking through the scope at the designated area. It was obvious that it'd been claimed by the Fallen, as there were multiple House of Dusk banners draped on the sides of the buildings, along with various pieces of Fallen machinery strewn about. Most obviously, however, was the fact that it was absolutely crawling with Fallen, maybe three dozen or so, not to mention their Shank and Servitor support.

Unfortunately, Efyriks didn't seem to be there. As usual.

Grey sighed underneath his helmet. "Great. He ain't here again. Figures."

"Maybe we should just scram," Saratota suggested. "Maybe the Spider's info was off."

"You think? I've been doing bounties for him for years, and he ain't never wrong. I say we just wait for—hold up," Grey peered through the scope, seeing a congregation of Dregs and Marauders and Wretches move out of the way. Soon enough, a Captain stepped into view, much larger than the rest of them and dressed in more elaborate armour.

"What do you see?" His Ghost asked, curious.

The Hunter grinned. "There he is."

"Really?" Saratoga asked. "Wow! And here I thought we'd be waiting 'till the heat death of the universe for him to arrive."

Grey ignored him and loaded in a fresh magazine of Arc rounds into Borealis and took careful aim. One shot to break the Captain's Arc absorption shield with a matching energy round, three more in his head to put him down for good. He didn't have to worry about reloading. Breaking Efyriks' shield would return a round to his magazine thanks to Borealis' Ionic Return trait.

He lined up his crosshairs, finger on the trigger as he waited for the perfect opportunity.

————————————————————————————————————————————

Corrin had never fancied herself worthy of a title like Royal Adviser.

But Xander was all about formal titles, and he was quick to dote on his second youngest sister, singing her praises for her role in bringing peace to both Nohr and Hoshido. Honestly, she didn't feel she'd done much, countless lives had been lost in this quest for peace, such as her half sibling, Ryoma and Takumi.

She still shuddered to think on such things, though she didn't share these woes with her family. Peace had been obtained, and with Xander as king Corrin knew that Nohr was in good hands. Still, she couldn't help but feel… out of place, really, as she moved throughout Windmire, the capital city of the nation.

Camilla, Leo, and even Elise had their own duties to attend to, so it wasn't as if Corrin could bother them all day. Her own duties saw her sitting in on meeting after meeting with Xander, discussing the best course of action for the kingdom. Important, but dreadfully dull work.

Now free from one such meeting, the princess let out a soft sigh as she made her way back to her quarters. Her footsteps were absorbed by the thick carpet beneath her bare feet. The silver of her armor gleamed in the light of the torches.

"What to do..." she mused out loud to herself. She wasn't needed again for a few hours. This last meeting with the local farmers had been shorter than expected.

Of course, that was because of the good news. Xander had secured Hoshidian advice on cultivating the soil, something which would aid Nohr's fields going forward.

The thought brought a smile to Corrin's face. This peace might've been dull, but that was better than the woes of battle and bloodshed. Surely it wasn't the death she missed... no, it was the excitement, the peril, the… oh by the divine that sounded awful to even think.

She sighed as she reached the door to her quarters. A massive improvement over her room at the Northern Fortress, this suite was more like what one would expect a princess to have. A sprawling space, closet overflowing with all matters of clothes. A vanity strewn with makeup and powders that Corrin didn't dare touch.

She wasn't used to such opulence, though she wasn't looking to head into her room as she cracked the door open. She smiled at the familiar sight of the light blue, swirling vortex before her.

She hadn't thought her private little dimension would serve much purpose with the war said and done. Lilth was gone, as were the allies she'd once met with here. Everyone had moved on, several were now raising kids. Love had blossomed for many on the battlefield, even for her siblings. Her heart still soared thinking of Xander's marriage to Nyx, and Camilla's to Niles.

Corrin hadn't been worried about such things, though now she wondered how she was to find herself a partner without a war to bond over...

Shaking her head, she stepped into the portal. "Issues for another time," she sighed as the door closed behind her.

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The sound of the door closing behind her was the last thing that she remembered. Groaning, she winced as a sharp pain shot through her head.

Wha… what?

Slowly, her eyes cracked open and they were met with a bleak sky and piles of rubble. Sore and stiff, the princess was slow to rise. Her body didn't seem too keen on the effort. She felt something hot and sticky running down the side of her head.

What hit me?

Slowly, she looked around, slowly it dawned on her. She didn't recognize this landscape. The destroyed building, partly overrun by nature. The rubble and eerie sky overhead.

But most of all, she didn't recognise the four armed monstrosities approaching her.

Scrambling back she felt her heart jump to her throat as she realised that she was surrounded on all sides by those things.

The biggest one, massive and garbed in flowing purple robes and a large headdress pointed some sort of silver, cannon looking device toward her, and barked at her in a garbled speech she couldn't understand.

Her arms flew up and her chest tightened as the monsters grew closer.

She didn't think there was anything more twisted than the Faceless, yet she'd somehow wound up smack dab in the middle of something about ten times worse.