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Steve Rogers had taken his first rebirth quite well compared to other Guardians. At least, that’s what Sam, his Ghost, told him after his first Crucible training match. Apparently, most Guardians needed at least a month of training to be ready for facing the Darkness. Rogers needed a week. Lord Shaxx had been delighted to find out that Steve was incredibly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, as to most Titans that meant “punch until foe dead.” That Rogers was a Defender Titan made it even better. “You make your enemies come to you,” Shaxx had told him. “And when they’re in your arena, in your Tower, that’s when you show them your might!” He was also unique in that Steve remembered more of his past life than your average Guardian. The man recalled that he was in the military - a captain, specifically. That always leaped out at him. After the military, Rogers was part of a special operations group. He couldn’t remember what the name was, but the rank of captain stuck. Zavala had told him he could earn the rank again if Rogers wanted to. But he also remembered two men that had been his best friends. Both had served in the military with him, however, the only one Rogers remembered specifically was Sam, who had helped him settle into a society Rogers was unfamiliar with (this was the reason he named his Ghost after the man.) For the life of him, Steve couldn’t remember the other man. Not until he faced him months later in the Crucible. A Gunslinger had made the same mistake many other Guardians made of getting in Rogers’ personal space. Unlike others, the Awoken Hunter had kept up with Steve in hand-to-hand combat for a full two minutes. The both of them fell into battle instincts, long-forgotten reflexes kicked in, and even when the Hunter pulled one of his many knives to gain an advantage, the blade did nothing more than switch hands between the two men. The fight became so intense that the other Guardians in the Crucible stopped to watch. The spectating crowds grew more and more frenzied with each passing second, and Cayde-6 had even managed to place a bet with Zavala, who normally wanted nothing to do with the Crucible. The fight ended when Steve, still acting on instinct, tucked his arm in to perform a bash. Void Light erupted from his arm, creating a shield, and the Hunter, caught off guard, failed to react in time and was sent sprawling, dazed and disoriented. The shield disappeared, and Rogers stared at his arm, wondering why that had felt so right. “Steve?” The Hunter’s voice caused Rogers to look down at him, where he was still on the ground. At that moment, Rogers knew exactly who he had found, memories filling blank spaces in his head. “Bucky.” Zavala questioned him later about the shield, asking how he had summoned it. Rogers replied truthfully, answering that everything had been pure instinct. He had no clue how it had formed, nor how to do it again. Zavala requested that Rogers let him know if the shield reappeared. Guardians were constantly creating new ways to fight using their Light, and if Rogers could learn how to create the shield at will, it could be taught to other Titans. It was a month after being reunited with Bucky that Zavala ordered a strike. The House of Devils had rebuilt Sepiks Prime and the massive Servitor posed a terrible threat to the City. Steve would have been fine with just himself and Bucky going, but the rule was three Guardians for a strike. And so it was that Rogers met Stark-9, an Exo who claimed that he had been the Tony Stark before being resurrected. No one knew how much of the truth Stark-9 was telling, but the Exo definitely had the mental capacity to match the famous and infamous weapons developer, not to mention the insanity. Not many other Warlocks would willingly integrate Vex technology into their armor, never mind find a way to make it work and amplify their Arc Light. Oh, that’s another thing. Stark-9 was one of the few Stormcallers as if the Exo didn’t need a boost to his already massive ego. Pepper, Stark’s Ghost, countered his brash personality. And of course, it was Stark-9 that noticed Roger’s Ward of Dawn was weakening. Against the Spider Tanks that the Fallen had stationed to guard the way to Sepiks Prime, Rogers had summoned the Ward as a temporary safe place to fall back to, and to give Bucky and Stark-9 a boost towards their Supers. However, something hadn’t felt right about the Ward of Dawn to any of the Guardians, and the bubble of Void Light had only taken three blasts from the Spider Tanks before collapsing. Against the rebuilt Sepiks Prime, it only withstood one. “What the hell, Rogers?! Are you trying to get us killed?” Infighting among fireteams wasn’t as uncommon as civilians were led to believe. Personalities and ideals were going to clash, but squabbles were generally kept out of the public so that morale would stay high. That being said, most Guardians chose to keep their quarrels private, and not let other Guardians into what was going on. Most Guardians weren’t Stark-9. “You’re supposed to be one of the best Defender Titans since Zavala and Saint-14,” the Exo shouted. “Yet your Ward of Dawn popped the moment Sepiks Prime so much as glanced at it!” The brash Warlock’s shouting drew the attention of many Guardians in the immediate area and of some outside that area. A crowd began to form, murmuring among themselves. “Do you have a point to prove, Stark? Or are you just ranting because the mission didn’t end with you getting all the glory like you wanted?” Steve snapped. Stark-9 had spent most of the mission telling Rogers and Bucky to stay back and let him do everything. They, of course, ignored him, but that only made the Exo even more unbearable. “Steve,” said Bucky, placing his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it. Let’s just-” “Stay out of this, Nighthawk! Bad enough Rogers couldn’t do a proper Ward of Dawn, I had to put up with your one-shot Golden Gun.” “The same Golden Gun that saved you and your Ghost by landing a precision hit on Sepiks?” Steve’s rebuke and Stark-9’s nickname for Bucky caused the mutterings and murmurs to increase. The Celestial Nighthawk was a well-known exotic, rare enough that few Hunters had it, and even fewer of those Hunters were Gunslingers. “Ah, Steve?” “Not now, Sam. What even gives you the right to complain, Stark? You kept charging ahead over and over directly into the enemy lines, then got angry at us for not joining you on your kamikaze runs after we brought you back!” Pepper materialized next to the Exo, trying to get his attention. “Tony, there’s something you should-” “I’m busy, Pepper.” Stark-9 interrupted. “Might I remind you, Rogers, that your Ward of Dawn failed more than once, making it so we had to fall back multiple times. I’ll bet that’s the reason you died before your Ghost resurrected you: you failed to defend something important!” If you asked any of the onlookers, most would say that Stark-9 deserved the right hook Steve delivered into the Exo’s jaw. One of the things that were never meant to be brought up around a Guardian was how they died the first time. While some Guardians may have died of natural causes, most had a violent end, and to think about their first death could be traumatizing. However, it didn’t excuse Steve’s actions. “THAT IS ENOUGH!” Human and Exo both suddenly found themselves forced apart by Shaxx. He had been alerted by a frame in the Tower’s plaza about the fight and made his way there. Shaxx arrived just in time to hear Stark-9’s words and see Rogers’ punch. “This behavior is unbecoming of Guardians! Normally I would tell you to sort it out in the Crucible, but to me, it seems you two are beyond that.” Steve lowered his head in shame. Stark-9 stared back defiantly but faltered as he winced from his aching jaw. “I don’t know what the problem is,” continued Shaxx. “And I don’t care. Effective immediately, both of you are banned from the Crucible until you fix the problem. On top of that, the two of you WILL go and speak to your Vanguard about this. Like it or not, you will have to work together again.” “Yes, Lord Shaxx,” was Steve’s response. “I cannot let this go unpunished, Guardian.” “I understand, sir.” Steve stood at parade rest in front of Zavala and was understandably not in a good mood. The Titan Vanguard, though sympathetic to Roger’s side of the story, remained as fair as possible, and in this case, that meant assigning disciplinary punishment to his Titan. “I also wish you had told me about your Void Light losing strength. While I understand wanting to protect the Last City no matter what, I will not willingly send a Guardian into the field knowing they are weakened,” Zavala stated. “However, I know how much it means to you to defend the City. So, as your punishment, I am placing you on flight patrol for two months, one month for the fight with Stark-9, and the other month for not informing me about your Light.” “...Yes, sir.” “Good. Report to Holliday tomorrow for your patrol pattern. Dismissed.” It was the last day of Steve’s flight patrol. The last day of his punishment. The Cabal, of course, had to ruin that. All Steve had on him was his sidearm. Oh, his fists were a weapon as well, but the Arc Light coursing through him felt unnatural. Zavala had agreed to teach him how to channel Arc Light in place of Void, but it never clicked as the Void did. That didn’t stop Steve from using it against the invaders. The going was easier after obtaining weapons from Shaxx’s armory. Not only was the auto rifle more powerful, but the Arc also became easier to reach for, easier to utilize and smash down onto his opponents. However, it still felt wrong. Standing in Zavala’s Ward of Dawn only amplified the feeling. Rogers told himself he would deal with it after the threat to the City was gone. Steve never got the chance. The Void Light felt right, even as it weakened. The Arc Light felt wrong, as though Steve were using a broom to dig a hole - inefficient, and used because the only shovel was broken. Steve wasn’t even sure if he could use Solar Light, as the Sunbreakers were more withdrawn than Ikora’s Hidden. But Steve would happily take the wrongness of Arc Light over the sheer emptiness he felt in his soul. He felt so weak, so exhausted. The Light had made Steve tireless, and it was only now that he realized how much the Light empowered him. Now he couldn’t even stand. Sam, who was almost entirely Light inside a mechanical shell, fell onto the command ship’s deck. As the Cabal in battle regalia stomped forwards, Steve grabbed Sam, dragging the Ghost towards him. He wouldn’t let his friend die twice. And then Sam was gone, flung from Steve’s hand and over the side of the ship. That single kick badly damaged his armor, armor that had taken direct hits from a Fallen Scorch Cannon and not shown a mark. Either the regal Cabal was that strong, or Steve had become that weak. The Cabal - Dominus Ghaul, he called himself - stepped forwards, most likely intending to push Steve over the edge as well. Shaikly, Steve pulled himself to his feet. His fists went up, and his stance shifted, ready for a fight. Ghaul stopped just short of Steve’s reach. “You cannot possibly hope to defeat me in a fist fight,” Ghaul scoffed. “Not even with the Light, and certainly not as weak as you are without it.” Steve simply rolled his shoulders and bounced on his feet. “I could do this all day,” was the response. Ghaul scoffed again, and before Steve could react, the Dominus had shoved him over the edge with a single, colossal foot. As Steve fell, his vision began to blur and fade. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was a single star, silently twinkling behind the looming form of the captured Traveler.
A bird of prey flew towards the Traveler as it rested on Io. The bird flew on, and he fell into the water, surrounded by faces and hands reaching out for him. He spun to the surface of the water, watching as Dark triangles descended, as though going after him. He raced forwards, briefly glimpsing a Leviathan devouring a planet. They were left behind as he continued on.
A Staff wreathed in Arc.
A Sword burning with Sol.
A Shield created by Void.
And the Shard, brimming with corrupted Light as the bird led him to the poisoned land.
Everything hurt. Steve briefly wondered why this resurrection hurt so much before he remembered what happened. Forcing himself to crawl out of the crater he was laying in, the wounded Titan observed his surroundings. Cabal were everywhere. The Red Legion had successfully taken the City, and he was not safe. Steve had to move. Despite his wounds, he slowly pushed forwards. Steve’s sluggish movements were a small blessing, as none of the patrolling Cabal so much as glanced his way. There was a brief moment of panic when a Thresher’s spotlight swept towards him, but a large slab of rubble served as cover. After the Cabal fighter left, Steve continued but stumbled. Feeling something rising in his throat, Steve ripped off his helmet, just in time for body-wracking coughs to tear through his body and splatter blood on the ground. Steve grimaced. Internal bleeding was never pretty, and he shouldn’t have moved at all so as not to disturb the internal wound. But the Titan had no choice. If the Cabal found him it would be worse than what he was currently feeling. Slowly, steadily, he kept going. It was a miracle that his wounds hadn’t killed him. It was a miracle that Sam had survived the fall. It was a miracle that none of the patrolling Cabal had spotted them, that Sam barely managed to muster the energy to heal Steve, that they had both gotten out of the City alive. Steve knew that too many Guardians would’ve died without the Light here in the City, not to mention those not on Earth. What were the fates of the Guardians off-world? Bucky was off-world. The Hunter was one of the few Reefborn Awoken Guardians and went on missions for the Reef as much as he did the City. Was Bucky still alive? Steve couldn’t think about it. He had to focus, had to find a safe place. The small outpost had been ravaged by the Warbeasts, likely caught off guard and by surprise, both by the slavering alien canines and the loss of their Light. Steve was lucky the submachine gun functioned properly. His sidearm had been damaged by the fall from the Cabal command ship, and Steve was certain if it was his only weapon the Warbeasts would have killed him. As he rounded the corner on the small mountain path, the landscape stretched out in front of him...leading to the sight of the captured Traveler and enemy-occupied City. Rage and sorrow filled him, and though he longed to take action, all Steve could do was turn and keep walking. The Cabal ships flying overhead were still too close for him to consider it to be safe. “That hawk’s been following us for some time now...or do you think we’re following it?” Steve didn’t bother answering Sam’s question. No matter who was following who, the hawk had helped Steve avoid many packs of the Cabal Warbeasts. The Legionnaires that herded the packs usually gave nothing more than a glance at the bird of prey. Doubtful that Cabal actually knew about Earth’s wildlife, Steve assumed they simply dismissed the hawk, believing it not to be a threat. But the Red Legion was not the only problem. Before the Traveler was captured, the Light made it so Guardians had no need for food or sleep. Supplies were already rationed, so this was a boon for the Last City. Now the Light was gone. While his armor gave him some insulation, the mountains were still too cold to safely fall asleep in, and though the hawk had actually brought him a rabbit carcass to eat, Steve wouldn’t build a fire for fear of a Cabal patrol seeing the smoke and deciding to investigate. If it weren’t for Sam, Steve would be dead. Despite his shell slowly leaking stored Light, Sam brought Steve back to his prime. Resurrection was straight out, but restoring Steve’s energy? Sam could do that. It was a poor substitute for food and sleep, but preferable over the alternative. The Farm had a decent amount of survivors from the attack on the City. Many of the refugees were still in shock or denial and were leaning on those who willingly chose to live outside the City. Hawthorne, the leader of the Farm, was grateful for Steve’s help. The Titan’s arrival was a rallying point for the refugees, even without his Light. Of course, she was less than excited when he told her what he needed to do. “It’s called the European Dead Zone for a reason, you know.” “I’m quite aware, Hawthorne. The fact remains that the Shard is in the exact location my vision showed me. I need to go there.” Hawthorne sighed, a look of resignation crossing her face. “Well, I won’t try and stop you. Anyone can come into and leave the Farm as they please. Just...promise me you’ll come back to us. It’s not just your City refugees that are happy you're here.” “I will.” The Fallen were making it hard to keep his promise to Hawthorne. More than once, Steve had to duck behind cover as though he were fighting an army of Fallen Barons. In reality, with his Light gone, seven Dregs were enough to keep Steve on his toes. At least the shotgun Hawthorne had given him was effective against the Fallen that Sam identified as Wretches. But Steve never once thought he was in over his head until the two Fallen Captains rallied to aid the lesser Fallen. Shoot, duck, run for cover, punch the Wretch or Dreg that got too close and convince Sam that Steve didn’t need to be healed right then and there so go ahead and make power ammo. Finally, the last Captain fell, and the lesser Fallen scattered. They wouldn’t be gone long, not with something as valuable as the Shard of the Traveller in their territory. “C-can you feel it, Steve? The Light, s-so strong…” Steve turned to see Sam shakily floating towards the Shard. Even as he watched, Sam’s shell began to repair itself just from being in close proximity to the Shard. It is true that because of the Shard, the surrounding area had become the European Dead Zone. That the Light it carried was darker than Light from the Traveller itself. But it was still Light. And Steve could feel it. “Hold on to your helmet, Steve.” As Sam channeled the Shard’s energy into Steve’s body, an ancient memory flashed through Steve’s head from before his resurrection as a Guardian: a preacher at the pulpit, reading from the first chapter of Genesis.
“And the LORD said, ‘Let there be LIGHT!’”
More pre-resurrection memories swept through Steve’s mind like a film roll: Meeting Bucky for the first time, enlisting in the military, receiving the super soldier serum from Dr. Erskine, defeating the Nazis over and over, being frozen in the ice, waking up in a new world, fighting the Chitauri, fighting Bucky while he was the Winter Soldier, fighting Stark to save Bucky, fighting Thanos, growing old with Peggy, passing his legacy onto one of his best friends, then finally falling asleep and then- rebirth. With Void Light coursing through his body, a shield formed on Steve’s arm. The Fallen had rallied, and as Sam celebrated the return of their Light, Rogers readied himself to meet the Fallen. At that moment, Captain America was truly reborn.