Panes of glass

Somewhere to post stories, journals, and other fiction based on No Rest for the Wicked.

Panes of glass

Postby Caboose2605 » Wed May 31, 2017 9:25 am

((Thank you all for tolerating my madness as Ghost. I wanted to share the head cannon of his final moments. I hope you enjoy))

I feel it faintly at the edge of my perception. The tight grip around the life-saver's handle of my armour as I am dragged along the corridor of this accursed mechanicus ship. The toes of my boots barely touch the ground as I look into the face of the Servitor that carries me. My limp swing of my dagger is caught by it's powerful hand as it stares blankly into my eyes. I glare back as it strikes me across my face with it's ranged weapon arm.
"Do not. Ruin this. Lesson for them." it chimes in it's odd rhythm.


I heard the warning klaxons long before I saw the wall of death approaching us all. I turned to D3k4rd and told him to leave with the group.
"Foreign Biologicals detected. Garrison deployed." the Hyperion murmured through it's vox-caster.
"Go!" I yell at them. It's a feral, angry and intimidating roar. Anything to make them leave. I already know what must be done.
I draw my dagger and power-rapier and step into the corridor and seal the door behind me. I am alone among the enemy, the darkness claws in around me and lends me my shield. I shout my last litany with raw fury as I charge the garrison. Swords swing and I parry, trusting every lesson Shane has shown me in sparring, my knife flying wildly in patterns Brad taught me to memorise by rote. I press my body into a Servitor, holding it against the wall in a grapple, just as Hark has defeated me in practise with, as I draw the new bolt-pistol Freya handed me to commemorate my birthday and shatter it's torso to pieces with three resonating shots.
The blood flows freely around my freshly purchased armour, for which I breathe thanks to Quillan, as I begin to slow, I am running out of ground and time. My swords move slower, and my shield unit, blessed by Mr.Grey goes to work. It lends me the final few moments of clarity to finish the final few servitors before I fall to my knees. It is too much. I cannot move.
I feel the grip on the back of my armour and can fight no longer.


I am greeted by the cold metal of stairs against my body and the clawing rip of vacuum on my skin, as the Hyperion discards me like trash from the airlock. I roll, crumple and land hard onto the deck of the Hulk and it winds me. The air escapes from my lungs and I gasp desperately. This is how I am going to die.
I curl up, my last thoughts going to them. To her. I feel her at the edge of my consciousness. The horror in her face as she realises she cannot breathe. The turmoil in her soul as she realises that something is wrong, that I am in danger. Through my blurred vision, I spot them. Queen and the Wraith. The mechanicus that brought us here. Phoenix.
They are being made to watch me as I die by this inhumane machine's lesson for them.
Not on my watch.
I force myself to my hands and knees and feel her strength in my bones, the fire in my veins letting me know that I am still awake. I still have fight left.
"Hand over hand. Knee over knee. You do not stop or you die." my drill instructor from Krypte yells in my head. A mantra I have known since my sixth birthday. It has been twenty years and it has kept me alive.
"Never alone. Always free." I feel the boiling cold of my dog tags press into my skin as I reach the diamond glass window. They are all listening to me as I press my hand to one of theirs against the glass, just like I did with hers when she returned from the web-way. Between these horrific short breaths, I consider my final words.

Do I praise the Emperor? Do I wish vengeance? Do I confess my guilt?
I only have one thought on my mind. A poignant moment of clarity in this fleeting moment of time and I realise there is only one sentence I need to say. One phrase I have never once uttered in my lifetime because I did not want to lie. A word that I did not truly understand the meaning of until this final moment just before my death. That no matter how bad things were, that no matter how much blood I had lost or bones had been broken there would always be this final push from my soul, for her. I smile at this cruel irony before I pass. I know what they must be.

I seal my airway with my tongue.
I do not have enough air.
Player: Fraser Ramsay
Character: Ghost NC1161625

"Strive to challenge yourself. Challenge your mind, your faith and your drive. Only then can you achieve what I am born to achieve."
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