IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

[nopunchline]

Who: Anyone, everyone? Aoba and Declan to start.
What: Destiny
When: After the House of Wolves, before The Taken King.
Where: Earth, The Last City, The Tower and beyond.
Warnings: Could be sorta zombie stuff (Hive), could be xenophilia? I dunno. Gen warnings, yo.

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Earth. 700 years into the future, humanity is all but gone, huddled in a massive city in the mountains, surrounded by gargantuan walls and living in the shadow of the slumbering, perhaps dead, body of The Traveler. The massive being of benevolence and light that came to Earth bearing gifts of knowledge that would bring about the longest Golden Age in Terran history, hovering in geostationary orbit over The Last City of men, protecting what is left from The Darkness beyond with the remains of it's Light.

For those on Earth it is a well-known story. With The Traveler's dying breath it created Ghosts, fragments of living Light that in turn resurrected men and women across the galaxy, bringing to bear the Guardians, warriors to fight the Darkness. Earth and all the nearby planets are populated by humans, the Awoken, Exos and a variety of species of ever more distant origins, some less generous than others. The Guardians make their headquarters in a colossal spire at the edge of The Last City. There, in the Tower, the Vanguard and other factions of humanity work together to hold the line and fight the Darkness and every other threat to the known universe. The little understood Guardians rarely venture beyond the Tower, preferring the company of their brothers and sisters in arms, but all look to the Tower as a beacon of hope.

There is danger and adventure to be had; the likelihood of death and the possibility of rebirth. The future is uncertain, but all who walk in the Light know the Darkness is coming, and the wise life to the fullest.

[ Destiny Wiki ]

Comments

[nopunchline]

Another day avoiding the Tower and the Guardian bar. There weren't a lot of things for Declan to do when he was off-duty other than drink, eat, listen to music and general exist and as some would say, take up too much space.

As a Titan he was was expected to be large, but even by the Vanguard's standards the Awoken Guardian was above average. He sat on a stool in a bar down in the city, the cushioned metal straining under the weight of his combat gear, weapons and general bulk as his large gloved hands carefully turned a glass of scotch, glowing eyes watching the condensation with interest.

"Oooh, Decker's in the house. Better run for cover!"

Broad shoulders hunched inward, the only indication the pale man heard anything.

"Ignore them," the bartender huffed softly, sliding a bowl of nuts towards the Guardian, who grunted his gratitude but didn't eat, too busy staring wonderingly at the beads of sweat on his drink. He got like that, sometimes. Distant, thoughtful, oblivious to his surroundings. Or at least he seemed that way. He actually noticed a great deal, from the people in the bar to the people walking by, the conversations around him and more importantly, he had a good instinct for trouble. Battle sense wasn't just for the field. Sometimes it was just as important to know when a person was confused, hurt or in general need, and those things were what kept Declan around. He had a compulsive need to protect, either from his past life or ingrained by his Ghost, and he gave in more often than not. So far, though, the day seemed to be going unusually quiet.

Blessing or a curse, he wasn't one to worry. Time would tell.

[scrappyblue]

It wasn’t the first portal Aoba had fallen through. Technically, it was his second, so he was hardly anything like a veteran on the matter, but he could at least imagine he knew what was waiting for him when he finally saw a swirl of light hanging in the air awaiting his egress. He might not know where it would lead, but he’d never get home again if he didn’t follow the portals, right? That’s what he’d been told about a month back, right after one of Ren’s shortcuts led him straight through his first portal, right?

He’d been stuck for about a month in a city called Steelport, somehow falling in with a gang called The Deckers…though long story short, it hadn’t exactly been his choice. Being forced to work with a bunch of cyber-punks in a crime-ridden city slowly falling under military jurisdiction…yeah, it had reached the point where Aoba half didn’t care where that portal was going to take him. At least it was out of here. He’d even finally give in and take Mizuki’s offer to join Dry Juice if it meant he’d be back with friends and away from these Decker punks!

Too much to hope for, right? Right. He didn’t even have a chance to check his landing. All Aoba knew was that the first thing he did after passing through the portal was stumble, tripping hard right into someone’s back. That “someone” happened to be a guy taking at a dirty urinal, drunk enough not to realize that the person in bold black and neon blue attire had not in fact come out of a stall behind him and (understandably, really) only be pissed that he’d been tackled in the middle of a piss.

So, there wasn’t anything for Declan to see so much as to hear: furious drunken shouting and the thud of a body, namely Aoba’s, getting flung back against wall. Red flashed through Aoba’s vision as his head struck metal, but he didn’t even have a moment to get his bearings before he was being hauled up by the front of his hoodie.

[nopunchline]

The shouting wasn't unusual and wasn't enough for Declan to get riled up over. It was the thud of someone being tossed about that made his pale marble face swivel in the direction of the restrooms.

"Now Declan, don't go doing anything you're gonna regret!" the bartender tried, waving his wet dishrag at the Guardian who rose up from his stool with a rush of air filling the space he'd formerly occupied. The entire bar went silent, all eyes on the Titan as his booted feet thumped on the floor.

Declan was viewed with the sort of awe and terror one felt watching the slow, distant approach of a tsunami.

"WHATCHER FUCKIN' PROLLEM YA LIL FAGGOT?!" the man in the restroom roared in a drunken rage. He slurred terrible and smelled like a barrel of spoiled pickles, but his size was nothing to laugh at and his grip and fists were iron. "Tryin'a git in here, git some money for wha--huh? Think yer gonna git sommat? Huh? Ain't that kinna place, y'hear!" he snarled, shaking Aoba and shoving him against the wall again. He was so loud and so angry he didn't hear the creak of the bathroom door opening. Didn't hear the boots on the tile floor or see the shadow falling over him cast by the figure looming. If Aoba looked up he could see a pair of glowing silver eyes in the shadow staring down with absolute impassive calm even as a fist rose and fell, cracking against the back of the man's skull. He went down like a sack of potatoes, leaving Aoba with the behemoth standing between him and the exit looking upon him with that same calm. Seconds ticked by, faces peered around the door frame into the restroom, collective breaths held before a deep but soft voice rumbled up.

"Are you alright?"

[scrappyblue]

Aoba had seen a lot of things in Steelport that he’d never seen in Midorijima. Not things that were real, anyway. The drunk that was manhandling him in fact subconsciously reminded Aoba of the hulking, identical “clones” that the Syndicate had utilized like human tanks. Of greater importance, though, was the way his collar was practically being used to strangle him, keeping him from choking out more than a few syllables of attempted apology. He didn’t miss that shadow that appeared at the drunk’s back, though, and had a moment to think oh shit he’s got a friend before fist met skull.

Suddenly released Aoba fell once again, just the short distance back against the bathroom wall. He braced his hands back against it for support but then froze, head throbbing. Disjointedly he thought, no way, this guy’s bigger than the first one, no way can I take him, maybe I should have stayed in—

The pale giant broke the silence. Gentle words but Aoba startled anyway, blinking up at those eerie eyes. “Ah, no, I…I mean I’m fine, thanks,” he began at a stammer, only for that pain in the back of his head to do its best to remind him otherwise. Despite himself, Aoba hissed a curse under his breath as he pressed one palm against the back of his head, as if that might help the throbbing subside.

[nopunchline]

It only took Declan a moment to recognize what Aoba was saying. His Ghost hovered over his shoulder, large mechanical eyes flicking up and down, doing a quick scan of the blue-haired man before floating away with a quick "Nothing permanent!" and leaving the Guardian to clean up.

"Decker did it again. Fuckin' animal," someone said from around the corner. The white-skinned man simply blinked slowly and watched Aoba, ignoring the muttered dissent from outside to instead focus on the needs of the unfortunate fellow in the bathroom. Declan didn't see Aoba in the bar earlier and didn't think he'd seen anyone entering the bathroom other than the man on the floor, so where had he come from? Had he missed him? Possibly, but still, odd. Odd and largely irrelevant, he thought to himself, silently reaching down with one hand and grabbing the back of the nameless drunk's shirt and pants. Hoisting the man off the floor without so much as a grunt, the Titan turned away and headed for the door of the bar, tossing the man out into the alley where he could wake up later.

"You alright there, boy?" the bartender asked, walking around the corner and wiping his hands off with the dishrag he'd used to flag Declan down. Or attempted, at any rate. The man was obviously human, older, grizzled but not unkind. Scarred and mean-looking, but friendly enough as he waved a hand and gestured towards the bar. "Come on, boy. I'll get you a drink on Declan's tab. He'd offer it himself anyways," the old man grunted, wandering back to the bar as the Titan returned to his stool and his untouched Scotch. He'd only ordered it because a friend of his had said it was a drink better suited to him than his preferred ones: Cosmopolitans, Grasshoppers and Strawberry Daiquiris (which were usually virgin, secretly).

"You alright with a drink on your tab, Declan?" the bartender asked, already mixing a light drink anyways, knowing the answer. The Titan looked up, peering out from behind silky white hair at Aoba before nodding shyly and returning his gaze to his cup amid the grumble and snickers in the rest of the bar. People muttered about the man, rumors, chatter about his brutality, his lack of intelligence, how "slow" he probably was and how they couldn't imagine he was useful as more than a bull-like meat-shield in the field. All of it was ignored by the man who drew lines in the condensation on his glass.

[scrappyblue]

The motion of the Ghost drew Aoba’s attention away from the giant man for a moment, giving him a thrill of hope he couldn’t help. Allmate? he wondered, only for the rest of his mind to assert that too many things were off about what he was seeing to think he was home again already. The most obvious was, of course, that he was aware he wasn’t hearing anyone speak in Japanese.

Aoba didn’t stir from his place against the wall until the big man actually moved, carrying the comatose drunk out of the restroom. Being address by the bartender encouraged Aoba into motion and he cautiously followed the older man out, adjusting the satchel hanging heavily from his shoulder and slipping a hand inside.

The feel of artificial fur met his touch and reassured him. Closing the flap, Aoba walked up to one of the barstools but was unable to really hide the wide look in his eyes as he looked around and tried to make sense of the building and the people in it. He didn’t miss the way people were staring, though—at the white-haired guy more than him, even. De…kan? The old guy had called him something like that. The stools to either side of the big guy were conspicuously unoccupied compared to the fairly crowded room, too.

Aoba slipped onto one of those stools beside his ‘rescuer’, honestly glad to sit and have a moment to get his bearings. Some of the murmurs coming from behind them all reached his ears, too. Maybe he ought to be worried? But the guy had just saved him from a beatdown and the bartender seemed unworried…and you’d think a bartender would know his clientele, right?

“Thanks,” Aoba said at last, offering a strained but grateful smile. “It was an…an accident, but that guy didn’t let me get a word in. You really saved me back there.”

[nopunchline]

When Aoba slid onto the stool nearest him, Declan's bright eyes flicked to the side, blinking twice in mild confusion. One, it was just uncomfortable for most people just for how wide he was, which always meant some part of him was bound to brush or jostle them and two, no one wanted to be around him, but a select few. The bartender watched, smiling crookedly as he slid two drinks over the table, a plain beer for Aoba and a brightly-colored cocktail for Declan.

"Stop trying to be someone you ain't, Declan," the old man grunted, plucking the glass of scotch from the Guardian's hands and downing it himself without blinking. "You ain't got the stomach for it. Just drink your fruity drinks and enjoy yourself, boy."

Sliding his eyes sidelong and glancing at the rest of the bar from behind the safety of his hair, Declan hunched over his new drink and sipped it with markedly more enthusiasm than he'd shown for the smoky gold liquor from before. Content that his work was done, the bartender went off to entertain the needs of others, leaving Declan and Aoba along at their quiet end of the bar.

"You're welcome," came the polite reply in that same deep, gentle voice. Declan didn't look up to meet Aoba's eyes, but he clearly wasn't mute, or disinclined to talk. Just unsure and inexperienced with being addressed directly. "I don't like drunks," he added with a small frown, the man's full lips almost pouting with the expression.

[scrappyblue]

Declan. Aoba caught the name better this time, paying more active attention. But... some of those murmurs from behind had called him "Decker"? Like the gang Aoba had just portal-hopped away from. Was that a coincidence? Was this some other version of Steelport?

Aoba glanced down at the gang colors he'd been made to wear, then back at the people filling the bar. No, nobody looked anything like a member of any of the gangs that had occupied Steelport. None of those distinctive team ensembles were present except on Aoba himself.

He folded his hands politely around the beer he'd been given, considering that he might actually have to drink it for politeness' sake. Cuffing a sound at Declan's reply, he had to agree. "I know, right? People that can't hold their alcohol have no business drinking it in the first place."

Case in point. Aoba looked down into his beer with a very similar lack of interest to what the pale giant had been studying the scotch with before.

"Your name's Declan, was it?" His pronunciation was a bit off, but mostly he got it. "I'm Aoba. Nice to meet you."

[nopunchline]

Another moment of silence, glowing silver eyes watching Aoba with a sidelong look before the Guardian shifted in his seat enogh to reach out a gloved palm to offer a shake. He was gentle, soft-spoken and polite when he wasn't avenging people in bathrooms, evidently.

"Declan. Yes. It's very nice to meet you, Aoba."

"Yes! Nice to meet you!" chirped the little floating, geometric eye construct. His voice was cheerful, if a bit skittish-sounding - much noisier than Declan, at any rate.

"You better watch out! Don't let him fool you," someone called from across the bar, another person speaking up and adding their two cents with, "Yeah, no one around here calls him that! It's Decker, 'cuz that's what he does. Decks ya. Best watch yourself. You'll be next!"

The robotic eye made a small sound of distress, the blue ring of his ocular structure widening and narrowing as his odd, dull spines spun around him and he recoiled, looking at Declan who didn't flinch or comment, but carefully withdrew his hand before Aoba had a chance to take it. The young man could of course make a grab for it anyways, if he chose, but it was obvious that Declan was retreating out of courtesy and acknowledgment that someone may not be inclined to associate with him.

"You lot shut up back there or get out, y'hear?" the bartender growled, swatting the bartop with his wet rag, the noise quite loud. There were mutters of dissent, but no one spoke out. Declan, for his part, looked resigned to the reputation others gave him. He fully expected Aoba to join the bandwagon, gratitude or no, though he held no ill-will for it. People would do as they would.

[scrappyblue]

Seeing the extended hand, Aoba came alert and began to turn, only to be interrupted by his own surprise at the return of the geometric Allmate. He could only assume that was what it was, of course—or something similar in nature. If nothing else, his mind assigned it that familiar label like a source of comfort.

Then the jeering from behind and again the other name: Decker. Aoba turned his head in search of the interrupting eavesdroppers, and as such missed the opportunity to take Declan’s offered shake. By the time Aoba looked back, his own hand still lifted to return the gesture, Declan had lowered his own.

Once again, the bartender defended his patron with the fruity drink. Blame it on having Mizuki for a friend, but Aoba remained inclined to trust the old guy’s judgment. Even if Declan had some kind of reputation like that, he’d come to Aoba’s aid, hadn’t he? That was reason enough to be grateful.

“Well. From the way they’re talking, I’ll assume any of those guys getting ‘decked’ means they deserved it,” Aoba announced, not lifting his voice above their conversational level but at the same time making no attempt not to be overhead.

[nopunchline]

The bartender stifled a laugh, glancing at Aoba with a wink and grin that suggested he enjoyed the boy's moxie. Declan looked back to Aoba, squinting briefly before offering a very small, uncertain smile and shrug, massive shoulders rising and falling in an overall minute gesture. He supposed they had all earned it at some point or another. People liked to act like assholes when they were drunk and if Declan was around, he showed them the door and the error of their ways, simple as that. Granted there wasa lot more unconsciousness involved, but the end result was the same.

Injured pride made bitter men, he supposed, sniffing faintly and sipping his drink briefly.

"Little prick," someone muttered, drawing Declan's attention. His head slowly swiveled around, bringing with it the shrill scraping of chair legs on the floor as several patrons pushed their seats back, afraid they might have to cut and run. Cowards, the lot of them. All hot air and big talk, but the second poking the bear actually woke it up they were ready to cut and run. Lucky for them, Declan wasn't inclined to start a riot, focusing instead back upon Aoba.

"I like your hair," he murmured, blinking slowly before turning back to his drink. Nothing big said, no attempts at touching, not even a compliment, really. Just a flat statement, the Guardian pointing out a fact. He didn't elaborate, but saying he found the color very flattering or attractive on Aoba was bound to cause a stir, which wasn't his intention. He simply wasn't even a little good at opening conversation. He was responsive, but obviously shit at striking things up on his own. No doubt part of the reason behind his reputation of being more surly than he actually was.

[scrappyblue]

Maybe the craziest thing about all this was the fact that Aoba sort of felt more comfortable right here in this giant’s shadow than he had at any point during that month in Steelport. Oh, soon enough he’d have to deal the fact he was in a new world he knew nothing about with no means of support while he searched for the next portal (barring getting shanghaied into another gang or something), but right now, this was almost kind of familiar.

Well. Up to the hair compliment. The amused look Aoba had been tossing backwards at those scraping sounds turned into a doubletake at what he at least heard as an unexpected compliment. He looked back towards Declan in surprise at the shift in conversation, his thoughts visibly getting stuck in the change of mental gears for a few moments. It wasn’t like it felt awkward, though…at least he didn’t think Declan was hitting on him all of a sudden. Right?

It seemed to follow naturally enough to Aoba: if everyone in here thought Declan was just going to punch them, he probably wasn’t used to carrying a conversation.

It helped that Declan didn’t do like those girl-friends of Koujaku’s and try to touch him, too.

“Thanks,” he managed instead, wrangling his expression around to a smile as he took a gamble (half forgetting he wasn’t home, admittedly) and pointed towards the geometric robot floating nearby. “I like your Allmate.”

[nopunchline]

"I'm a Ghost, actually," the floating eye piped up, squinting and rotating in a manner that suggested a well-meaning smile. He had a voice and an eye, and it was good enough. It certainly emoted more than Declan did, who hunched slightly at Aoba's words, cheeks coloring noticeably. Easily embarrassed, even by his own words and actions.

"You're not precisely human," Ghost observed, drawing Declan's silver glance. "Are you an Agent of the Nine?" the eye asked curiously, mirroring Declan's own interest.

"I don't think so," Declan mumble, shaking his head slightly.

"why? Just because he doesn't look like Xur?" Ghost asked, swiveling to look at Declan, who shrugged and didn't elaborate. He rarely felt the need to explain himself. No one seemed to understand his perspective or intuition anyways.

[scrappyblue]

Ghost, huh? Must be its model. Aoba’s hand drifted to his satchel as he continued to neglect his beer and considered waking Ren instead, only to be flummoxed by what came out of the robot’s mouth…er, speakers…next.

“Not precisely…?” Aoba repeated dumbly, right through Declan and Ghost addressing each other instead of him. This was an Aoba who had never encountered Toue, never learned the truth of his own existence. Instead of walking into a Rhyme drive-by he’d walked into a portal—and the rest had been history up until now.

He laughed clumsily when the other two paused, not all that sure what the misunderstanding was but obviously this was nothing but some kind of misunderstanding. “I don’t know anything about any Agents—” (that wasn’t any relation to being a ‘Chosen One’, was it?) “—but I’m definitely human.”

…though perhaps that begged the question: what was ‘human’ in this world? Someone like Declan? But most of those guys jeering at them looked like regular people as Aoba would expect people to look….

[nopunchline]

"Well, if you insist, but I know a human when I see one," Ghost replied sulkily, prompting Declan to reach up and grab him from the air. Turning the little thing so they were eye to eye, the Guardian grunted, then let Ghost go. The construct spun lightly into the air, then dematerialized before Aoba's eyes.

"He's a Ghost. He can scan you," Declan explained, turning to finish off the last of his drink. Noting Aoba hadn't touched the beer at all, the Guardian took a small leap and cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely towards the door.

"I have to head out. Would you like to walk with me? No one will bother you." Really it was just an offer to get out of the bar safely. Declan didn't have anywhere he needed to be at the moment. He had bounties he could be pursuing, but it wasn't as if he needed the money. He just wanted to get Aoba out of nosy earshot.

"Thank you," the Guardian rumbled, rising from his seat and dropping a handful of glowing blue crystals on the table, which the bartender scooped up with a nod.

"Anytime, Declan. See you around. You too, kid. You're welcome anytime."

[scrappyblue]

Well, Aoba was just going to pass that off as some difference between humans in this world and his own, then. It was silly to think anything otherwise because, after all, he was human. Even if he did have sensation in his hair.

Before Aoba could start to really wonder if maybe Ghost’s scan could pick up something that subtle, Declan spoke and moved. The young man visibly doubletaked at the crystals handed over as payment, but his attention snapped quickly back to the other.

“Ah? Oh, yes! Thank you very much, I’d appreciate that,” he stammered, slipping off the stool. Especially given that some of those mutterers in the background were still paying attention, he got the hint, but he paused to address the bartender one last time. Would Aoba ever come back? Who knew. He didn’t know how long he’d be stuck in this world but it wouldn’t hurt to remember a friendly face.

“Thanks, mister. Next time I’ll pay for a drink just like his,” he answered with a wry little smile and a jerk of his thumb towards Declan. It was meant like an apology for having not touched the beer but he hoped the guy understood.

[nopunchline]

The bartender nodded, leaving Declan and Aoba to depart as they pleased. No one made to follow them, of course, so the two were able to go without incident. Out of the bar Ghost rematerialized, spinning about idly before drifting off into the sky and heading towards...

"...The Traveler seems brighter today..." Declan murmured, more to himself than speaking to Aoba as he looked up a the gargantuan sphere in the sky over a city that was far, far larger and more advanced than the seedy interior of the bar suggested. Much larger and more advanced than anything even Aoba's world had to offer. There were starships in the air, people buzzing through the streets on some sort of hoverbike, normal humans, robotic people, more colorful hair and skinned people like Declan with smooth skin and eerie, too-pretty faces.



"If Ghost says you aren't human, you aren't. But I don't think you're a spy or anything bad, so I thought we should leave if it was something to talk about so no one got the wrong idea," Declan stated abruptly, turning to look at Aoba from his not unimpressive height. At 6'9", 419lbs, people moved when Declan walked through, unwilling to be a speedbump in his life.

"I don't care if you aren't human. I'm not," the massive man remarked, shrugging slightly.

"My apologies!" Ghost piped up, looking bashful in it's own way. "I didn't think about the trouble it might cause. I was only making an observation. I hope I haven't been too careless."

[scrappyblue]

If Aoba heard them, it was only subconsciously. What the two would see, looking at him now, was the shellshocked face of a man who didn't know what was in front of his eyes and hadn't been suspecting anything remotely like it. Wide eyes, mouth hanging open... blood rushing out of his face.

It was enough to make him a bit lightheaded, in fact, enough that when he felt himself sway a bit Aoba put a hand out, automatically and unthinkingly bracing himself on Declan's sturdy frame.

Oh. Goodness. Even Steelport had felt closer to home than this.

"Where am I...?" he asked himself, stunned and under his breath as he fumbled to grasp everything he was seeing.

[nopunchline]

"Earth, The Last City," Declan replied calmly, shifting enough to put one hand at the small of Aoba's back, keeping the blue-haired man standing. He didn't mind being used for support - liked it, in fact, for how much people tended to avoid him.

"Are you lost?" the Guardian asked, tilting that glowing silver gaze down. "Did you crash here, or were you only just brought back?" he offered up suggestions, knowing full well it might be none of those things but that Aoba needed some kind of cover story. Declan didn't care about people's origins, just their direction and motivation, and Aoba seemed neither intent on harm or malevolent in any measurable sense of the word. So it was something else, and while he was a little curious he wasn't even a little judgmental. If Aoba wanted to tell the truth he would. Declan knew he had to earn the right to know a man's story and they'd only just met so he didn't expect much.

[scrappyblue]

Despite technically being the one to initiate contact with the other man in the first place, and despite his distraction, the feel of a hand somewhere as intimate as the small of his back gave Aoba a surprised rush of chills up his spine. It wasn’t inherently a bad thing, though—certainly it helped reel him back from the edge of that sense of being overwhelmed, looking out at the vastness of a city that far exceeded anything he’d ever known. Not even the glimpse of Oval Tower rising in the distance could compare to that great spherical…thing in the sky.

He turned his wide eyes back up towards Declan. Aoba’s was definitely a guileless face. He was too honest for his own good sometimes and he definitely didn’t have a poker face enough to hide just how plainly out of his element that he was.

“Lost…” he repeated, a strained laugh escaping him next as he looked back across the vista before him. It was a helpless, not humorous sound. “I crashed alright…right into the bathroom of a bar in the middle of…whatever this is.”

He gestured weakly with both hands before dropping them heavily to his sides with a sigh to match. Well on the bright side, he supposed, at least he hadn’t fallen right into the clutches of a crime syndicate this time.

[nopunchline]

The Guardian considered Aoba for a moment, bright eyes still as he thought to himself. Eventually he turned away, looking across the cityscape towards the massive tower in the distance. A few more moment ticked by, Declan weighing his options, calculating pros and cons and separating the right path fro the wrong.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" he asked eventually, turning back to Aoba and inhaling deeply. It was more of a strain than he thought it would be, talking so much. He rarely did more than grunt in conversation, never really having a reason to say more - particularly since he tended to travel with people that talk a great deal. It was like exercising a forgotten muscle, exhausting but...rewarding.

"I won't hurt you," he blurted, soft and sudden, gazing down at the blue-haired man with as sincere a look as Aoba wore a guileless one. "I don't hurt people for no good reason, no matter what everyone says. If you need a place to stay while you figure things out, I've got the safest place in the city," the Guardian clarified, lifting his hand to point at the tower at the edge of the city. There were others in the greater distance, set into massive walls around the perimeter of the vast metropolis, but the nearest was the one Declan indicated.

[scrappyblue]

While Declan was silent in his thought for those moments, Aoba was similarly mute as he stared across the city and wondered where to start. Not being trapped by the Deckers meant he could look freely for another portal…but just like the last one, he didn’t know where a portal would dump him until he went through it. Should he take his time? Try to get his bearings, maybe hope he could get a few more supplies than the sodas and snacks he’d managed to cram in his satchel along with Ren? Or did he just hop portals as quickly as he could find them and hope that sooner than later one would dump him back home—

You couldn’t really forget that there was a giant like Declan standing right beside you, but Aoba almost did, anyway. The pale man spoke again and Aoba stared up at him in shock at the offer, his mouth falling open with a wordless sound.

“I—” He looked the way Declan pointed, fumbling to decide, but fear of the big man wasn’t even on the list of things to make Aoba hesitate. Declan had surprised him, sure, even been intimidating, but Aoba didn’t feel the least bit afraid of him.

His tongue caught up with his thoughts, sort of. “—I can’t pay you anything. I don’t even know what those crystals you gave the bartender were. I don’t want to be a freeloader…but….” Would he be an idiot to turn down the offer? He’d just be living off the streets unless he found something like a homeless shelter.

“…If you really mean that and I wouldn’t be a bother, I’d be very grateful, Declan.”

[nopunchline]

"You don't have to pay anything. I have the room and I almost never use it. I spend more time on the front lines than in my own bed anyways," the Guardian gently reassured Aoba, shaking his head slowly. Reaching up and tugging the shoulder of his combat gear, the big man tried to get more comfortable where he stood, feeling unsure despite his conviction about the invitation. He just didn't invite people to have anything to do with him past work.

"Food is mostly prefabricated and cost-free, and my room is free, too. I'm a Guardian, and they're given living quarters at no charge. Most people in the city don't pay for their housing. Culturally we're past that. Free energy, things like that," he mused, wondering how much or how little Aoba knew of anything. Did he have some kind of amnesia, or...

"I mean it. I'm not using anything anyways. At least that way you'll be able to meet with The Speaker or any of the Vanguard. Someone might be able to help you better than I can. Besides, it's a safe and peaceful place...I think it's nice," he added the last a little childishly, instantly regretting it despite feeling it was worth saying.

[piza_lord]

Harry had dealt with many things, Zombies, Fay, evil bastards from other worlds and even finding love and a family. Now, after being sucked into some portal by his mother's pendent, he was dealing with something that had him so far out of his depth he couldn't tell up from down.

"Look, you pore excuse for a MCP, I said buzz off. I'm not a Warlock," Harry said as he swatted at a Ghost.

"But you seem to be a Guardian that was brought back without the help of a Ghost," the small robot spoke as it hovered around Harry's head.

"Now I see why every Wizard hates technology," he deadpanned. "You know, I could blow you out of the sky, or shut you down permanently, or turn you to slag."

He counted each threat off on his fingers as he said this, right up until he bumped into an Exo outside the bar. He was big, but only a little shorter than Harry. The Exo rounded on him with a look that screamed "You just pissed me off!"

"Woah, lose the helmet, man. You'll see better."

That set the Exo off.

[nopunchline]

Another day, another ruckus outside the bar Declan haunted on his shore leave, so to speak. The massive Awoken tilted his head slightly, silver-white eyes peering past white bangs towards the front windows. Some man - a human? - barking at a Ghost - whatever for? - had bumped into and insulted an exo. Even on the best days Exo moods were a little sketchy. A lot of them were defensive purely based on age old prejudices, and Declan knew that one in particular felt very passionately about Exo rights and equality. He'd never understood why, since racism was virtually unheard of among Terran peoples anymore, but some people just liked to stir trouble.

"Declan...you don't have to get involved," the bartender warned as the behemoth of a Guardian rose from his stool, the poor seat groaning it's inanimate relief.

"I know," the Titan rumbled quietly, voice like a distant thunder. Shouldering his guns again and straightening the bandoleer across his massive chest, the Guardian headed out of the bar.

Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump. The heavy footfalls of his thick boots were so deeply resounding people often imagined the ground trembled slightly beneath the man's weight. Why people ever picked fights with the man no one was ever really sure. Drink made people do dumb things.

"Helmet? Helmet?" the exo was shouting at Harry, fists balling at his side. "This is my head you insensitive sack of meat! How dare you--" the artificial man roared, raising his fist up and back. Of course no one knew Harry was potentially able to protect himself, but it didn't matter. When that metal fist rose into the air, it was caught and held in a giant gloved palm, a shadow falling over the Exo.

"U--uhh...u-uh D-Declan! Hahaha, Declan! How's it....how's it goin'?" the Exo stammered, head turned enough to look up at unamused glowing silver eyes. The sound of groaning metal suddenly erupted from where "Declan" had the exo's fist gripped, causing the construct to cry out loudly.

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I WASN'T REALLY GOING TO HIT HIM! PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GO! LET ME GO I PROMISE I'LL LEAVE!" the Exo shrieked as the metal grinding sounds persisted. With one hand, the Titan was crushing the metal man's fist. After a few seconds, the giant let the Exo go. In a sudden display of vast intelligence, the robot ran off, holding his bent fingers and scampering off down the nearest alley.

"Are you alright?" Declan asked Harry softly, his deep voice loud even when he tried to be quiet.