A Warlock always finishes the job (Destiny fan-fiction)

Source: Bungie.net
(Source: Bungie.net)

What follows is a true story. Well, true as in based on my experiences playing Destiny last night on the Xbox One. For all of the complaints about the short story and the shortcomings of the social features that have been pointed out by gamers and journalist, I’ve been having a blast roleplaying my own narrative.


Allow me to regale you with a tale of glory and comradery.

I’d just received my Light Level 21 classification, thanks to a few new bits of armor, and was feeling pretty good about myself. So, I decided to let my ship’s Director assign me a shift on the strike mission rotation. I’d be able to clean up some outstanding bounties with a random fireteam and earn some Vanguard Marks at the same time. (Those Legendary boots aren’t just going to buy themselves.)

A few missions in and I find myself running an Old Russia Strike with a pair of Guardians — a Titan and a Hunter. We’re in the fight with the Spider Tank when the Hunter just vanishes. I’m disappointed but not surprised. (It figures, right!? You know how Hunters are; if they had any sort of attention span, they’d be Warlocks.) Then, I realize that Titan is just standing slackjawed at the area’s entrance — most likey frozen with a temporary bout of the AFK Syndrome that’s been going around. I’m going to have to grind out this fight alone until his Ghost can snap him out of it. However, after 15 minutes of popping in and out of my hidey hole, slowly whittling away at the tank’s armor, I notice that the Titan is gone. His ship’s Director must have noticed that the overpowered brute had gone dark and called him back.

I’m truly alone, but I’m finishing this damn bounty, so I grind it out for what feels like forever and finally take down the tank. A Warlock always finishes the job. Yay for me, right? Wrong, because in the next room is the mission’s target — Sepiks Prime, the great Fallen Servitor — and its minions. I’m not looking forward to another long grind, but an exo’s gotta do what an exo’s gotta do, right? So, I reload, gird my loins, and go in shooting.

Suddenly, a few minutes into the fight, I see the familiar green fireteam tags bouncing in the corner of my HUD. The Tower Vanguard must have realized the situation was and sent in the cavalry, a level 17 and a level 20, to help. I didn’t take note of their classes or races — too busy shooting — but we were able to quickly clean up the Prime problem, collected our Vanguard Marks, danced a bit, and went our separate ways.

As an exo, the path of the Warlock was the best choice.

As an exo, the path of the Warlock was the best choice. (Source: Bungie.net)

I had one more bounty on my list for the night: just one more public misson to fulfill my “Get 3 Stars in 3 Public Events” assignment and I could turn in for the night, so I went hunting on the Moon. I’m patrolling and collecting materials to upgrade my trusty pulse rifle when the sky darkens to signal all hands on deck time for the public mission.

I quickly take a look at the roster on my HUD as I head toward the mission beacon and was disapppointed to see that there are only two other guardians on the moon, a level 10 and a level 9 who would probably be disappearing into their own mission any moment now. I’d tried to solo one of these “defend while the cryptarchs gather their intel missions” a few days ago and it had ended poorly for me — the Ghost regeneration process isn’t a painful one for an exo like me, but it is… well, disconcerting.

I walk into the circle anyway. Job’s gotta be done; it’s a Warlock thing.

It’s a pretty awesome fight; the Hive swarming to my left, the Fallen flanking my right, so much crossfire. I’m taking down wave after wave of fodder, but then I start seeing the yellow IDs of the Alphas beginning to fill my HUD.

I settle into a groove. Fighting is simple science for we Warlocks: dodge, shoot, cover, Nova. It may look like magic, but it’s actually just physics, simple mathematics, and tactics — tasks for which my exo mind is particularly attuned. Even so, I’m felling pretty pumped from all of the energy I’ve drained from the grunts — feeling like a goddamn Voidwalking Space Wizard — but I’m also quickly getting overwhelmed, so I sprint out of the circle and hide in a nearby cave while my Ghost repairs my wounds and armor. I check the upload status; the clock’s ticking and the cryptarchs have only uploaded 75% of the data.

My Ghost says somthing along the lines of you’re doing great, Guardian, almost there, but I’m not really listening. Looks like it’s “exo’s gotta do” time again.

I dash back to the mission circle and take down a few low-levels, but it’s not looking good for this Space Wizard as the mission progress creeps toward 90%. I’m going to die and it sucks because I was so close.

Suddenly, a rocket whizzes over my shoulder and the Hive Knight that I was busy pumping rounds into explodes. I glance over my shoulder and see that pair of guardians have crested the lip of the crater and joined the fight at the last minute. A Titan crashes at my side, staggering my foes long enough for a Golden Gun to reduce them to ashes. I’ve never been so happy to see an aloof Hunter while on mission; I could practically kiss the Titan’s big dumb face.

The mission progress ticks 95%, 97%, 99%, and then it’s done. The opposing forces, realizing that there was no longer anything to be gained here, cut their losses and call off the onslaught. I’ve been saved (for the second time in a night) at the last minute by my fellow Guardians. We danced for a bit (as you do), then waved and went our separate ways.

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