Weiss woke to the soft hum of the Tower's ventilation system and the gentle, floating bob of Spark hovering near her bedside. Morning light filtered through the narrow window, turning the metallic edges of her small room a pale gold. For a moment she just lay there, enjoying the comfort of the bed.
She sat up slowly, stretching her arms overhead, as she looked out the window at the City below. The room was simple—bed, dresser, a small desk with a terminal, and a mirror whose surface flickered occasionally from old circuitry.
"What… uh… what do we have today?" she asked, rubbing sleep from one eye.
Spark pivoted, his blue iris dilating with the digital equivalent of surprise. "Curious! You appear more eager than yesterday. However… we have no new mission assignments from the Vanguard. They likely wish for you to rest."
"Rest?" Weiss frowned before yawning softly. "Alright, well I don't want to sit around the whole day so I should think of something to do." She slides out of her bed and stretches her back before staring at the closet. An idea springs to mind and Weiss opens the closet dragging out her bodysuit and the armor she detached from it.
She stares at it when a crack spiders across the surface.
"…Spark?"
She barely has time to react before the entire armor collapses in her hands—metal flaking, crumbling into fragile curls of alloy and dust. It falls apart like old leaves.
Pieces scatter across the floor.
Weiss stares, stunned.
"Ah, yes. About that." Spark floats down, examining a broken fragment with clinical curiosity. "Your armor appears to have suffered catastrophic structural fatigue. Age, corrosion, ballistic trauma, environmental exposure… quite a cocktail! It's something of a miracle it stayed on your body at all."
"I know what we're going to be doing today…getting new armor." Weiss mutters before beginning to clean up the mess.
"Splendid! And perhaps this time, Weiss, your equipment will not disintegrate on contact with gravity." Spark chimed in as it hovered above her head.
She groans softly. "Spark…"
"What? I was being optimistic!"
——————————————
She stepped out into the Tower's main corridor, Spark hovering faithfully at her shoulder like a glowing metal firefly. The morning bustle of Guardians moving between vendors, hangar crews carting equipment, and civilians weaving around them all filled the air with a lively hum. Weiss looked around before rubbing her arms.
Since Weiss' under suit also basically disintegrated, she was currently wearing a pair of jeans and long sleeve shirt.
"Who are we even supposed to talk to?" she murmured.
"Armor is typically requisitioned through the Gunsmith or the Vanguard quartermasters," Spark offered cheerfully. "However, the Tower's internal pathways are labyrinthine and inconsistently labeled. Fascinatingly inefficient!"
"That's… not helpful, Spark."
"My sincerest apologies." He lied effortlessly.
They walked up a flight of broad stairs, Weiss scanning faces for someone who looked like they knew something about armor distribution. Other Guardians strode by in gleaming gear, some cracked or scorched but still clearly functional. She felt tiny next to them, insecure in a way she didn't expect.
Spark kept chattering—"Oh! That sign says foundry access! Or maybe food court? Hard to say due to thefading—"when Weiss nearly jumped in shock as a loud voice thundered out.
"YOU! YES YOU—WARLOCK! STOP TRYING TO THROW THAT GRENADE INDOORS! THIS IS A STRUCTURE OF CIVILIZED SOCIETY, NOT A TEST RANGE!"
Standing near the Crucible display was a massive man clad in heavy, orange Titan armor accented with white. His presence radiated authority, intensity, and something else—something like a burning passion barely contained beneath discipline. His helmet sat at on his head, angled downwards as he scolded a Warlock.
Lord Shaxx.
Weiss recognized the name from whispered Guardian gossip—Cayde had mentioned him once, offhandedly, calling him "The loudest man in three solar systems."
Weiss bit her lip in contemplation before she decided to wait until he was finished before approaching.
A couple more thunderous words later and the Warlock scampered away as nearby Guardians chuckled from the show. Weiss breathed in deeply before walking up to him.
"Excuse me, Lord Shaxx I—" Weiss started before Shaxx turned around looking for the voice that called his attention. He looked down at the petite Guardian while Weiss internally grumbled about the height disparity. (Weiss is 5'2 and I'd estimate that Shaxx is at least 6'8, given how much larger Titans would be than Hunters and Warlocks. Also, Shaxx is basically THE Titan alongside Saint-14 so I'd imagine they'd be the biggest)
"HUNTER," he boomed, voice echoing across the courtyard. "IS THERE SOMETHING I CAN HELP YOU WITH?"
Weiss froze. "Uh—I—wha—"
Spark chimed in brightly, "My Guardian is hoping to find new armor since hers is unusable!"
Shaxx leaned closer. Weiss could hear the metal in his armor shift. "GOOD. A GUARDIAN WHO UNDERSTANDS THE IMPORTANCE OF PROPER ARMORING IS A GUARDIAN WITH SURVIVAL INSTINCTS. COME."
Weiss blinked. "Wait—what?"
He began walking before she could protest, each step a heavy clank. Weiss jogged awkwardly to keep up, Spark floating after them like an excited drone.
"Where are we going?"
"TO SOMEONE WHO KNOWS HOW TO BUILD ARMOR THAT WON'T DISINTEGRATE IF A FALLEN LOOKS AT IT FUNNY."
Spark whispered, "His voice modulation is remarkable! Did you know his vocal output could shatter—"
Weiss waved him quiet.
Shaxx led her toward a section of the Tower she hadn't noticed before—smaller workshops branching off from the main courtyard, steam and sparks flying from open doors where frames and foundry machines hummed. The air smelled of heated metal and oil. Titans worked at benches, welding plating and calibrating servos, occasionally glancing over as the Crucible Handler marched a bewildered Hunter through their domain.
Weiss felt out of place, but also intrigued. Maybe I could try something like that. She thought internally, fascinated by the craftsmanship these Guardians were demonstrating.
Shaxx turned sharply and pointed. "THERE. THAT QUARTERMASTER OWES ME A FAVOR. THEY WILL GET YOU PROPERLY FITTED."
She looked up at him, surprised. "Why help me? You don't even know me."
Shaxx tilted his helmet slightly, studying her. "BECAUSE YOU ARE NEW. AND THE NEW MUST BE ARMORED WELL IF THEY ARE TO LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BECOME LEGENDS."
Weiss felt something warm bloom in her chest, gratitude and a flicker of pride.
Spark added softly, "Oh… that was almost sentimental."
Shaxx pointed at the tiny machine. "AND YOU. TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOUR GUARDIAN. SHE HAS POTENTIAL."
Spark rotated happily. "I intend to!"
"GOOD." The Titan gave a decisive nod. "NOW, HUNTER—GO. GET YOURSELF SOME ARMOR THAT WON'T EMBARRASS THE CITY."
And with that, he marched away.
Weiss released a breath she didn't know she had been holding.
"Spark," she whispered. "Let's go upgrade."
"Oh! An excellent plan! And possibly life-extending!"
———————————
The quartermaster's workshop was warm with the glow of forge lights, sparks dancing in the air like tiny fireflies. Weiss stepped inside slowly, feeling more exposed than she'd ever admit. Without her armor, she was dressed only in a pair of fitted jeans and a long-sleeve black shirt—clothes she'd scavenged from her room's small storage compartments after Spark insisted her old armor was "structurally unsalvageable and aesthetically catastrophic."
The jeans weren't bad. The shirt was warm enough. But walking around the Tower—surrounded by Guardians in full suits of gleaming armor—felt like showing up to a military parade in pajamas.
A handful of Titan smiths paused mid-work to look at her. Weiss swallowed, lifting her chin in spite of the discomfort burning along her neck.
Spark hovered closer, dimming his light sympathetically. "On the bright side, the chances of further armor damage are currently zero!"
She shot him a look.
"…I will refrain fromfurthercommentary," he added meekly.
At the back of the workshop, a quartermaster clad in heavy work plating turned toward her—an older Awoken woman with pale lavender skin, short silver hair, and a permanently furrowed brow. Her nameplate read: Lyra, Vanguard Armorer (Titan Division).
"You're the one Lord Shaxx dragged through here earlier," she said, voice gravelly from years of shouting over machinery. "The new Hunter."
"That'd be me," Weiss said quietly.
Lyra eyed her from head to toe. "You're underdressed for a forge."
"I don't have armor anymore," Weiss admitted. "Or even a proper undersuit."
Lyra stared for another long moment, then huffed. "Well, that's unacceptable. Come with me."
She led Weiss to a side alcove where racks of armor frames lined the walls—sleek Hunter gear suspended like metal ghosts. Beneath them, folded in neat stacks, were soft-weave undersuits.
Weiss brushed her fingers over a set of midnight-black, lightweight layering fabric. It looked simple, but the stitching and texture felt almost velvety, lined with a surprisingly cool micro-filament mesh.
"That's an MK-IV flexible exo-weave," Lyra said. "Insulated, temperature-adaptive, resistant to tearing. Designed to go under Hunter armor plates."
"It feels… nice," Weiss murmured.
"Good. Go change into it. There's a stall over there."
Weiss hesitated before stepping behind the curtain. Inside, she peeled off her shirt and jeans, folding them carefully and setting them aside. Slipping into the undersuit felt odd—it clung like a second skin, hugging her frame but moving effortlessly with her. It was snug but incredibly comfortable, breathing with her body as she stretched her arms and flexed her knees.
She looked at herself in a small mirror inside the stall.
The undersuit made her look… like a Guardian.
Weiss had Spark send her clothes to subspace before leaving the stall.
When she emerged, Lyra gave a curt nod. "Good fit. Now for the real work."
The armorer guided Weiss to a platform surrounded by suspended armor plates—an unfinished Hunter set painted in matte steel-gray with cobalt accents. The chest piece had a clean, angular design with reinforced ribs, and the boots looked far sturdier than her old ones.
"This is a lightweight CQC Hunter frame—modified Vanguard-issue," Lyra explained. "High mobility, moderate protection, focused on agility and quick draw capability."
Spark bobbed excitedly. "Oh! Look, Weiss! This version has a built-in arc conduction mesh! It will greatly improve your subclass channeling!"
Weiss blinked. "It does?"
"Yes. Try not to overload it. That would be expensive," Lyra muttered.
The armorer lifted the chest plate first. "Arms up."
Weiss obeyed, and the plate settled over her torso—cool at first, then warming as its internal systems calibrated to her vitals. It felt like being wrapped in metal confidence. Lyra worked with practiced precision, locking each component in place.
Shoulder plates came next. Then forearm guards. Then reinforced greaves and the boots that clicked magnetically into her suit's anchor points. Each piece integrated with a soft mechanical hum.
Spark circled her head. "Weiss, you look substantially more durable! I estimate your survival chances in combat have increased by—"
"Spark," Weiss murmured, "stop calculating my odds of dying."
"Oh. Of course. I meant it positively."
By the time Lyra fastened the final clasp, Weiss felt different. Heavier and protected, definitely—but also empowered, strong.
Lyra stepped back and crossed her arms.
"There," she said. "A Guardian's armor."
Weiss ran a hand along her new chest plate, fingers brushing the cobalt streaks. "I… I love it."
"Good." Lyra tapped the armor once, firmly. "You'll grow into it. Maybe even make it look heroic."
Weiss felt a genuine smile tug at her lips.
Spark chimed enthusiastically, "Oh, absolutely! A few explosions and scorch marks and you'll look very traditionally legendary!"
Lyra groaned. "Ghosts…"
Weiss laughed softly.
"Thank you," she said. "Both of you."
The armorer nodded once. "Go, put it to use. Don't make Lord Shaxx regret vouching for you."
Weiss straightened, shoulders squared in her new armor. "I won't."
As she stepped out of the workshop, Spark floated closer, his iris bright and warm.
"You look like a proper Guardian now, Weiss."
She lifted her chin, feeling—for the first time—like she finally belonged.
"Let's go show the Tower," she said.
Together, they walked into the sunlight.