Till It's Over (A Destiny 2 Story)

Interlude: A Light in the Dark

We've got a knife in our hearts and a fork in the road
We see a light in the dark but it's fading like hope
I'll make a promise just to break it for the sake of it
We think that we're honest but truth is what we make it to be

Intacto – Passenger

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Cayde-6 was very, very lucky.

This was a well-known fact. Even the worst odds had a tendency to swing in his favor. He'd pulled off some pretty impossible stunts in his time. There were whispers, of course (and the occasional loud accusation) of cheating- fancy tricks, illegal mods, stolen intel- but it didn't matter. Luck was luck, made or not, and all that mattered at the end of the day was who was still kicking and who got paid.

But still, even without all that, the fair Lady seemed to be sweet on him. He gave another reverent thanks as the Cabal slug whizzed harmlessly by his head. Another near miss to throw on the pile. Any one of them could spell the end now, the real end. Yet none had.

His knife found a seam in the Phalanx's armor. It was enough to stun the creature, allowing Cayde to push aside its shield and deal a much more damaging blow to its neck. It fell. Cayde grabbed his knives and flew for cover.

No more bullets found marks near him. The Exo returned his weapons to their sheaths and re-oriented himself. Luck again had favored him; the scuffle he'd just ended had brought him closer to his target. Just one block now to the East Stacks of the City Archive.

'Now', you may be asking yourself, 'what is a gen-u-ine death-defying, hell-raising, name-taking Gunslinger like Cayde-6 doing snooping around some stuffy library?' The answer: snooping, obviously. Even Gunslingers had to enjoy a good snoop now and again. How else was one supposed to pull fancy tricks, illegal mods, and stolen intel out of their butt when the going got tough?

The East Stacks in particular had a secret, kept out of general disinterest and ignorance rather than clandestine methods. There, tucked away in the corner, was an old terminal. It wasn't often used. In fact, Cayde had to wipe away dust that had gathered on the manual keyboard. Cayde suspected only he and the occasional admin ever touched the thing. The interface was a product of a bygone era- no touchscreen, no sleek minimalist design, no Bluetooth- in fact, it wasn't connected to the Net at all.

It was, however, connected to the Archives. That made it very useful for snooping information without the Vanguard noticing. Now it would be useful for snooping information without the Cabal noticing.

He needed intel, bad. Zavala's message had gone out seven hours ago. It pinged through every available relay, which meant everyone had heard it. Especially the Cabal. The smug bastards could take their time to settle in, knowing a counteroffensive was some time away.

He'd thought about the potential brilliance of it for a moment. Evacuation, consolidation, then offense was such an obvious plan, and so obviously the sane tactical choice- but what if? These Cabal were more complacent than Cayde had ever seen Cabal. There would never be a better time to strike back.

Had Andal been the one to give the message, Cayde would have suspected some immediate, stunning turnaround- assassination, ambush, sabotage. They couldn't afford a lengthy offensive, not with their numbers dwindling by the hour. It would be such an Andal move to take the Cabal's victory and throw it back in their face, use their own crushing tactical superiority against them.

But Zavala was no Andal. So this issue was going to drag on for weeks, months, maybe years. Maybe forever. Cayde did not do month-long offensives. Cayde did not do strategy. He did tactics. End things quick, strike hard and fast, hit the enemy where it would hurt them the most. For Cabal, all rigid military, that meant their leadership. Why waste time and lives bleeding the beast dry when you could just cut off its head?