Chapter Text
The taste of fresh air, the feel of it across her skin. Mag isn't sure why she's here or why she has no memories before this moment. The only thing she can think about right now is getting out of here.
As violently as possible.
She feels something wriggling under her skin. It doesn't itch but it isn't pleasant either. That Captain Vor had put something on her, slapped it onto her ankle to... Well, she isn't sure what it's doing right now. But the answers would come at another time, once she no longer had Grineer guns pointed at her head.
Power pulses in her hand and radiates down her fingers; a simple gesture pulls the enemy in, all into a crumpled heap at her feet. Their guns? Discarded. She doesn't know how long she has before they gather themselves to their feet again, but she doesn't want to stick around and find out.
"An extraction ship is waiting for you. But the Grineer will be hunting you. Arm yourself."
She pauses in her tracks. The voice in her head is unfamiliar to her. As soothing as it is, she doesn't like it. Waking up in this strange place wasn't exactly making her open to new friends so willingly.
Rain spatters against her skin; she doesn't know if it's the shock at work, but she can't feel any of it. Not the chill, not the wetness of it. Nothing.
A table under a shelter sits just ahead of her, a simple sword resting on it as if presenting itself just to her and her alone. Why hadn't the Grineer taken this for themselves? Either they're too stupid, or the blade isn't worth using. But she doesn't have any guns at the moment, so something is better than nothing.
A burst of gunfire sends her ducking low, close to the knee-high wet ferns. She isn't going to be able to get them from here. But...
It's worth a try.
She runs headfirst at the nearest, muzzle flashes lighting up that bone-white mask. Instinct takes over, and she's deflecting bullets left and right. Huh. The Grineer soldier recoils a bit, his magazine spent. He knows he doesn't have time to reload. He resigns himself to his fate.
Mag slides the dead body off her sword with her foot, the sucking sound of metal leaving meat and bone blending into the din of rainfall. One down. How many more are still waiting for her?
As she cuts them down one by one, she comes across more artillery. A bow and arrow, and a small pistol. She's surprised by the former, confused that anyone in this day and age would resort to such crude weaponry. Still, she can admit that it feels nice in her hands. Like it belongs there.
"Good. The extraction point is up ahead. Hurry, before Vor finds out you've escaped."
Mag tilts her head to peer up at the sky, not knowing where the voice is truly coming from. She runs her hands over her head; nothing resembling a receiver is attached. At least... not what she thinks one would feel like, anyway. A psychic bond, maybe?
A sleek ship hovers down towards the platform, its engine kicking up so much rain that she has to shield her eyes from it.
"Tenno, you need to go to the console to release the lockdown."
Tenno? Is that what she is? Nothing about the term brings any memories or fondness. Just like Grineer. Just like Vor. Just like whoever this Sol-forsaken woman is.
Her fingers dance across buttons and panels, randomly pushing anything and everything to undo this supposed lockdown. Nothing, of course, works. She doesn't know what language this is, or even how the technology works.
"Your Parazon is a versatile tool. Use it to breach this panel and restart the ship."
Parazon?
With just a mere pondering on the word, a long, knife-like device juts out from her wrist. Was this a part of her body or had it been installed...?
More questions for later.
She inserts the device into the machinery; instinct does the rest, forcing her wrist to twist it one way then the other until there's a triumphant tone.
"Enemy reinforcements are here! Ship Cephalon, we require immediate extraction."
Sol-dammit. Just when she thought she was getting away... She draws the bow from her back, nocks an arrow until the string is taut, then lets it fly. Three Grineer, charging towards her in a line, drop like stones, the single arrow having pierced their skulls.
Huh. Maybe she hadn't given the weapon enough credit.
There's movement in the underbelly of the ship, a large metal cylinder turning until it stopped, revealing a person-shaped hole in its middle. Revulsion is the first thing that hit her. It looks too small, too tight to stand in. She'd just woken up and now she's supposed to step into a proverbial coffin?
More Grineer swears echo down the caves. More bodies for her to drop. But for how long?
She steps in and feels some force snapping her hands and feet into place. There's nothing for her to hold onto, no belt to keep her strapped in. Instead, the cylinder begins to turn and the view of the green forestry is replaced with darkness.
What the fuck has she just gotten herself into?