Destiny 2 Shorts

“I’m getting real tired of your bullshit, Ghost,” Sal spit out, the clang! of metal on metal resounding through the warehouse-like room. If the ball of bolts and magical-whatever-the-fuck didn't knock it off, he'd be splattered across the room's floor next. Honestly it was just some old hangar Sal had managed to fall into underneath the Cosmodome’s main building(s) during one of his “missions'' from the other week. In all honesty they’d just been attempting to scope out more materials for the project they were working on, but things never go to plan the way they’re meant to. However, that “side-quest” had been productive, because now Salmonella was in a large open room with only one entrance that dualed as the exit. 

It’s been where he’s stowed himself away for probably Way Too Long at this point, but Sal was close to finishing up the little science project they’d been working on. It was a much smaller scale model of what he was intending to fully create, but so far everything had been working reasonably well, if you ignored the damages splotted around the lot.

“You really aren’t gonna do shit? We’re almost done here, but everything would be finished quicker if you just,,” Salmonella trailed off, distracted from the sudden wire-gore that had just sprung from a smaller opening in the panel he’d been trying to shove closed.

“No. Of course I’m not. It isn’t my place,” Sal’s Ghost trilled, flitting over to the small table full of notes and faded, glitching holos. The Guardian waved a hand absentmindedly over his shoulder, causing the Ghost’s oculus to flash in distaste. The little thing was so pissed off, but the disgustingly impressive state of Sal’s newest workspace was quelling the pit of anger a little. Just a… little. 

“I don’t understand it. You can keep doing this, but I’ve already told you, your Light doesn’t– Traveler above, it doesn’t work, Sal.” Salmonella paused, the gun leaning haphazardly against the Warlock’s shoulder, chest, and leg. It was a different handgun that they were using this time, a random hand cannon he’d remembered to change the coloring of to match his (now stained) armoring. A gunshot rang out and Sal’s Ghost didn’t bother getting any nearer to whatever the fuck was going on over there.

“I think… I just need more of myself. I’d gladly use you but I don’t think it’d benefit either one of us. And I’m positive you’d whine about shit if I even tried to ask for volunteers for thi-” Sal’s Ghost started whirring again, his eye now looking right into Sal’s. The two stared at each other for a few beats before Salmonella extended his arm (or what was left of it) using their free hand with a yawn. When their Ghost didn’t move an inch, Sal groaned and bonked his head against the wobbly table.

“Fuck you, you know it really hurts! I’ll stop being fucking- fucking–! Ohmyshit please just– I wouldn’t use any of them! Come on, come on! I’m sorry!” Sal whined, groaning into the table for good measure. His voice was rising as the facade of the wound not being painful was getting too difficult to keep up. The Ghost didn’t move or say anything either, and Sal had a sneaking suspicion it’d picked that up from DDoS. Bastard.

“Neomphyte, please,” Sal crooned softly, nudging his arm towards the Ghost a little more. If they could cry, Sal would probably be close to a mumbling and teary-eyed heap.

“You would think that you’d understand what I’m trying to tell you, but someone doesn’t view me as their equal. Why do you resent me, Guardian? I’m only here to help you accomplish what we were meant to do. I didn’t ask for you, just as you did not ask for me. We are bonded, you’re mine just as I am yours, but you are– It’s difficult to keep you alive if you keep blowing off your arms and legs and head and–” Neomphyte ranted in a surprisingly steady stream of word vomit (as that was all it was to Sal), the occasional humming of what sounded like struggling machinery swelling up now and again. Neomphyte trailed off after ripping into the Warlock a little more, the two falling into silence with the occasional break from some busted pipe dripping something liquidy onto the floor.

Salmonella didn’t say anything for a long moment, but moved his arm about slowly once the Ghost was finished patching him up. Sal’s facial structure looked as schooled as ever when it was just him and Neomphyte together, but the soft “Thank you,” had the literal ball of Light brightening just a bit. Sure, he didn’t expect Sal to fall to his knees in thanks, or to even acknowledge anything they’d told the Exo, but that was enough. It was quite an improvement from their first days together, anyway. Maybe the bar was a little bit low, but regardless– 

“Stop bouncing around like that, you’re getting in my way,” Sal murmured, looking back at the work before him. The panel had been fixed, but the chunk of arm that had been blasted away had gotten its wetness all over Sal, the desk-table, and his littler notes. 

“How are we going to get one of those Fallen in here? Any ideas?” Sal asked casually, to which Neomphyte immediately blurted out a couple of ideas before freezing. He’d been so excited to interact in a non-hostile way with Sal to keep the tension down in the god-forsaken room that the poor Ghost had sort of piped in too quickly. Salmonella wouldn’t really use the Fallen for any sort of– of nefarious purposes, so– 

Neomphyte was really grasping at straws. Of course Sal wouldn’t use anything for something evil. He was too stupid for that, but it could prove to be dangerous for unsuspecting other persons who- 

“Neomphyte?”

“...Yes? What is it?” The Ghost couldn’t help but shudder at the sudden near-warmth that’d come from Sal. It was frankly unnerving. And potentially beginning to get on its last fucking nerve. The switches between “intense” and “normal” tones in their conversations with their Guardian was getting tiring.

“Thank you. For everything! Honestly, I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

Yeah. Something was probably wrong with that, if the sinking feeling of dread that was encompassing Neomphyte’s whole form was anything to go by.