In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving,"
But the fighter still remains
The Boxer – Simon and Garfunkel
-
May 13, 2950, 11:12; The Last City, Earth
The Gunsmith's stall was as easy to break into as it had ever been. Azra didn't even need to pick any locks in his new location. She could just pull the invisibility trick and vault the counter when Banshee was turned the other way.
Of course, she'd only been there for about five seconds before Banshee noticed. He still had his sharp senses. "I know you?" The Exo rasped. He looked rather unimpressed.
"Used to, mayahps." Azra tucked her feet beneath her and took out the Requiem. Like her, it came out of the Vault transformed. It used to be a backup for a backup, shining and barely used. Now it was scratched and rusted and dirty. "It's been... a long time."
The Exo grunted and shifted his optics to her sidearm. He was visually taken aback at the state of the weapon.
"Did my best," Azra muttered sorely. Spark materialized a toolkit. (Brand-new, of course. Everything she had was either old and battered or shining new.) Banshee turned back to his own work, casting the occasional sidelong glance at Azra.
She frowned as she carefully disassembled the piece. "Hey Banshee."
"Yeah." The gunsmith asked, more statement than question.
"Given damp conditions, how old would you say this gun is?"
"Lifetime for a gun is how many times you fire it, not how long it's been, 'cept for corrosion." He plucked the barrel covering from its resting place and turned it over in his hands. "This one seems like it's had a rough time of it. Don't see to many Guardians with scars. Mare Ibrium?"
Azra startled a bit. "What?"
"These were Vanguard commission for Mare Ibrium. Omolon design."
"Huh. Yeah. Guess so." She turned her head back to her work.
"Looks like it's been about half a century without good cleaning."
"Like I said, I did my best." A pause. "But half a century, you say?"
"Don't know why you're asking me. It takes a lot for these to rust. Swear I know you from somewhere."
She took the barrel casing back and grabbed a wire brush. "Like I said, it's been a long time." The piece was in really bad shape. Maybe it couldn't be salvaged.
"Try vinegar," Banshee suggested. "Takes the rust right off. Throw in some salt if you want it to go faster. Just make sure to clean it well."
"Thanks, Ban," Azra said. It was worth a shot. She'd have to go down into the City proper for supplies, but... "Azra," she said.
The Gunsmith grunted in confusion.
She looked up to meet his eyes. "You were asking. My name is Azra."
-
May 13, 2950, 13:38; The Last City, Earth
"How about the map files?"
Master Rahool shook his head. Azra peered at him through half-lidded eyes. The man looked rather hawklike under his hood. "Unrecoverable," the Cryptarch said. "In fact, there's very little evidence to suggest there was any map to begin with."
YOU ARE READING
You've Got Time ( a Destiny Story)
Fanfic"No one can open the Vault alone. I opened the Vault. There was no one with me but I was not alone." A team of six entered the Vault of Glass. Kabr fought and died. Praedyth was captured. Pahanin ran. Two were cut away, and one hid. This story story...
