- Location
- Sealed away in a pure maidens heart
Honestly I'm mostly surprised! Can't even think of the last time I saw a short work on here, just prematurely dead ones! So good on you for having it all planned out already I guess!
Quite Doomed (RWBY/Doom)
Neolander
I can't have ANYTHING! in Mega-Hive Detroit
All thing considered, these six chapters were well written, the story was paced out, and the OCs done well enough for me to care about them... I would love to have a whole lot more, but I can be satisfied with a good end.
That said with all the new lore with, surprise surprise, Doom guy is confirmed as Doom Slayer, and all of that from Doom Eternal..... Honestly probably good to end it, cause the Doom Slayer is more Kratos than any superhuman.
That said with all the new lore with, surprise surprise, Doom guy is confirmed as Doom Slayer, and all of that from Doom Eternal..... Honestly probably good to end it, cause the Doom Slayer is more Kratos than any superhuman.
Evil Plan
Not nearly so nefarious as my name signifies
- Location
- Eastern United States
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Yeah, I've somehow gotten used to reading, like, 200kword+ fanfic, and had assumed this was still warming up. But now that it's pointed out, of course what I was picturing would be way too much intrigue-and-the-like for Doom! At most we'd be talking "climax of the first half" territory.
It is good to read something that actually finishes though, weird though that sensation is.
I liked what you did with the argent accumulator as a power-up!
It is good to read something that actually finishes though, weird though that sensation is.
I liked what you did with the argent accumulator as a power-up!
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Not Quite Home
____
For trying to be quick, I was killing a fair number of demons, I noted as left half an Imp behind me. The soldier, for his part, actually seemed to understand my instructions as I left demons behind, and even he simply killed demons as he ran, not killing absolutely everything that got within range of his sight. It seemed as though we'd wiped out the bulk of the forces they were able to assemble before us, or perhaps we were moving too quickly for the demons to prepare any more summonings, I didn't know, and at this point, I didn't care to know the details save for the fact that we only saw the chaff demons as we ran along.
I was still running at a pace where the soldier could keep up.
I'm not sure why, precisely. He didn't want to go through the portal. He wouldn't accompany me. At this point, I knew I wouldn't be able to force him to come with me. I was on a time limit, though the base was close enough to get there with some time to spare. I should have left him behind, logically speaking.
But every time I could have darted ahead, gone over an obstacle, I'd instead go to a place where he could reach, guiding him to the base.
I didn't have the time to be introspective about why, nor did I have the time to talk myself out of it.
Thus, logically, the rational thing to do would be to continue allowing him to keep up.
It was quite reasonable, when put like that.
More and more Hell Knights were butchered and more and more Imps died, thirty minutes of running and fighting, until we reached a cliff that allowed us to overlook the base.
What was left of it, at least.
The Argent cannons were smoking ruins, and most of the prefab shelters were ripped apart.
The only corpses I could see were standing on two legs, their flesh warping into their guns, the Atlas uniforms still intact if bulging in odd places as the flesh warped beneath it.
As we stood there, I saw one of those… possessed… approach a Hell Knight, who casually grabbed it and ripped the corpse in half, almost seeming to laugh as it did so. There weren't many demons around the base, but surrounding the portal itself, were over a hundred demons with more streaming in, and they all seemed to be trying to press through the portal, and more demons joined the throng all the while.
I looked at the crowd, climbing, clambering over each other to enter the gap, and I glanced to my companion. "I don't think I can make it through that," I said, a sort of resignation in my voice.
In response, the soldier next to me stepped forward, and simply cocked his shotgun.
I gave a soft laugh, half exhaustion, and half relief. I couldn't argue with that, I supposed. I shook my head, and I leapt to the ground, and I could hear him following, already shooting with the assault rifle- had he actually switched weapons just to be able to cock the shotgun, solely to make a point? I was fighting alongside a warrior poet, I supposed.
A few Imps near our landing site were already dead by the time we landed, the one directly beneath me died of a sword, straight through the skull and down the neck, before I yanked it out in another spray of blood.
As we landed, a voice boomed out over the base, deep and ominous, and spoke. "SHE MUST NOT LEAVE". However ominous a statement that was in theory, and the less theoretical fact that all the demons present turned to look at us as the voice spoke, it made me smile. If that was an intelligence in charge of the demons, it seemed to take my existence personally. I could take at least some satisfaction in that.
The sort of sprint I had been avoiding during the run to the base, I indulged in, the ground lighting up in glyphs as I slid across it, every Imp I passed skewered, every Hell Knight with its throat cut.
The soldier had leaped up to one of the short, one story buildings, and was now running across the roofs, firing at any demon that either got in his way or seemed about to attack me.
A rocket slammed into the face of a Mancubus, and I dove past the blinded thing, cutting its wires.
Two Hell Knights charged me, and I focused completely on the one on the right, and as its companions attempted to grab me, several bullets slammed into its skull, knocking it off balance long enough to bring my blade to its neck and cut.
Two of those flying jetpack demons aimed for the soldier, but a small swarm of ghostly ravens flocked after that them, biting and harassing the things right up until a gauss round ripped through both of them at once, the soldier having repositioned himself to an angle that allowed him to get both of them with a single charged shot.
A second massive railgun shot blasted into a Baron's chest, staggering it and causing it to stumble, holding itself at an angle. I darted beneath the leaning thing, and stacked three glyphs on top of each other beneath me, before blasting upwards, slamming my blade into his skull hard enough to pierce the impossibly hard thing all the way to the hilt and nearly wrenching my arm out of its socket. The thing staggered, and I held myself upside down for a moment, pressing my feet to its eyes and pushing inwards as I pulled at the sword, and ripping it own in a shower of blood. I fell on the ground with a thump, and as a Hell Knight tried to take advantage of my disadvantaged state, a trio of rockets slammed into its back, killing it instantly, and I was able to roll out of the way before the Baron's corpse collapsed on top of myself.
We ran, killing and fighting, far more synced to the other's state than before, and cut a bloody trail through the already bloodied base, until we finally reached the clustered demons, gathered around an orange sphere where the ruins of the stone arc of the portal had been.
And now- as I saw hundreds of eyes staring at me, ready to attack, I could admit that I wasn't entirely sure about how to handle this.
At my side, the soldier stood next to me, his railgun disappearing in his hands and instead-
A ridiculously, ludicrously sized weapon appeared in his hands. It was a massive, at least two feet high and two across, and several feet long. It had green veins of energy running along its sides.
It- I could think of no other way to describe it, it was- an exceedingly large firearm.
He pulled the trigger of the weapon, and a massive ball of green plasma shot out, and darted over the crowd, the green ball sparking, shooting chains of lightning at all the demons near it, scouring flesh just with its passing as it shot above the crowd, and as demons were killed by the lightning, they exploded in more flashes of green light, wounding more demons that exploded in turn.
Scores of these demons, tightly packed as they were, had already been wounded or killed by the passing of the sphere, and it hadn't even reached its target, which was the portal itself?
It struck the portal, and the portal shook, wavering, shaking, and ripped apart, space itself ripping in the midst of the demonic crowd, as half their bodies were suddenly teleported half an inch above their torsos, effectively slicing them in half.
The air roared with dying demons, until the portal flickered, and in its place, a dozen other, smaller portals took its place.
Had he, known that would happen? How well had his people understood Hell?
I shook my head, as stomping feet indicated the presence of a new wave of demons, some of them charging from the base, including the corpses of possessed Atlas soldiers, and the rest were demons that had been approaching the portal. Still, as long as we got through one of those- flickering, unstable portals, we should be able to make it through. And then a single figure strolled through one of the portals still on the ground, a slight frown on his face, and the demons paused in their advance.
"Ah. Winter." Rowan Helmer said, hands in his pockets. "I admit, I was a bit surprised to see you here. Kind of thought you'd be long dead." He grinned and tilted his head, "Hoped, really."
…
I had been so distracted by Blaine's sacrifice that I had forgotten his implication of an actual traitor, hadn't I?
"You're the traitor, then? Any particular reason you betrayed our world to hordes of sadistic demons?" I asked, hand on the mechanism to separate my dagger from my sword.
"I didn't betray the whole world, really. Just that old oath to defend all the people's of Remnant. They gave you a pretty similar offer, as I understand it. Keep Atlas safe, wipe out the Grimm, sacrifice a few other nations to the demons. Simple, really."
"And you trusted that offer?"
"Eh," He shrugged, with a casual ease. "It's not something I liked to advertise, seeing as to how that movement isn't exactly popular in the military, but I'm a bit of an Inevitablist. You know, everything we do against the Grimm is futile, any progress we make is an illusion, the Kingdoms will die out with a whimper unless something, ah, changes the equation a bit. I'm willing to bet on a longshot victory over a certain but slow doom, and by my assessment, the demons are that long shot."
I sneered, "Gambling with the lives of others is something I'd expect of you, really." My actions were an odd balance, if I was being honest. Entirely a gamble. He looked fresh for a fight, and I was still winded, while demons still gathered behind us. I couldn't win against him in my current state, so I needed time to restore myself, but the longer we spent talking, the more demons would arrive, and the more likely it would be that the portals would finally shut and leave me to my own doomed last stand.
"Hey," he smirked and spread out his hands, "My life's on the line too, if you think about it. I'd have preferred to use the resources of Hell, harvesting Argent energy without the cooperation of the demons, but, well, you kind of ruined that by grabbing the Slayer." He chuckled, and nodded his head to where the soldier accompanying me stood. "Let me tell you, you signed on with a real hero over there."
My eyes didn't move to the side. This was a conversation, but- I didn't trust the man. For reasons beyond his current, obvious treachery. "And why did my meeting him ruin your plans?" At least I had some title for the man, though I had absolutely no context for it.
The soldier beside me glanced between us, at the paused demons, before turning fully to face Helmer, and as he manifested his shotgun, I could hear the creak of wood as he squeezed it tightly, coming to a conclusion. I looked to him, then pointed at the demons. I pointed at myself, then at Helmer. Let me handle the person, and you can handle the demons. For a moment, he actually seemed torn, which was surprising to me, as I hadn't expect that to be a difficult sell, but he eventually nodded at me, and turned to face the demons, manifesting his Exceedingly Large Firearm and pointing it at the demons who were gathering, and just waiting for one to make the first move.
"I, ah, overheard your conversation with the colonel. If you confirmed that the demons have wiped out other worlds of humans, you'd have likely shut down the whole project, and leave our one shot at a true victory dashed by an admittedly reasonable fear. So, we tried deterring you, whittling you down, but, ah, apparently, you proved just as willing to spend lives to pursue the objective as I am. So we tried killing you, or at least, preventing you from returning with proof, but that didn't quite work out for us. I could be a real hypocrite here and say that everything that happened to this place was your fault, but I think that would be pretty transparent of me."
"Of course, your plan seems to have already failed, what with the portal being destroyed."
"Yeah, got to say, the demons who contacted me were pretty cheesed off by that. I knew ol' Ronny was a petty little shit, but I didn't think it went that far."
I decided to try pushing a button, just to confirm an old suspicion of mine. "That fauna showed more integrity then you ever have or will. He had a chance to make a difficult decision, and he chose to sacrifice himself above others."
"That insect shit would've been better off if his mother had died with him in the mines."
I took a moment to think through that statement.
"How curious." I tilted my head. "I couldn't actually tell if that contempt in your voice was racism or disdain for the disabled. Considering my general opinion of you, I'll just assume that it was both when I give your eulogy."
He gave an insincere smirk as he shook his head at me in an odd way. "You'd really do that?"
"You know me. Do you have any doubt in your mind that I would not hesitate to approach your mother and tell her what an awful person her child grew up to be, as well as the names of every single person you murdered on this base?" I asked, tinting my voice with a hint of curiosity, as if I was honestly surprised by the thought that I wouldn't do just such a thing.
He just stared at me for a few seconds, and reached into his pockets. When he withdrew them, he was wearing his signature knuckle-dusters. "I think we're done here." He said.
I gave my most sincere smirk, and nodded, "Agreed." Truthfully, making him angry enough to wipe that mocking smile off of his face did far more to restore my aura than any amount of meditation could.
I charged without a salute, he raised his fists, I heard the ELF firing at the swarms of demons behind me, and the fight was on.
My sword split into two. It was a balance, fighting Helmer, I noted as my weapons darted at his fists. He could detonate the dust in the hands whenever he wanted, either shooting at me, or boosting the speed of his punch. His Semblance could protect him from the backblast without much difficulty. If he was hit too hard, he could take all the force he had been hit by, and explode, pushing back or harming anyone near him, and he wouldn't hesitate to use it to either shield himself or to attack.
So my sword darted around his hands, pushing, trying to force him to use the dust to block, to divert, to shield. Trying to open him up for that one, powerful strike that could pierce his aura and nullify his defenses.
And despite whatever I enjoyed saying about him, his sole virtue was his skill in a fight, I had to admit, weaving in and out of my guard with ease.
One brutal right hook slammed into my face. When I snarled, he simply smirked as he jumped back, bouncing from foot to foot.
I didn't want to use my Semblance before he did, but- his Semblance's offensive properties tended to be more of a fight ender, from what I knew of his playbook. And so I summoned a small flock of ravens, just to harass him, at the same time that I charged.
As I and my flock approached, he exploded, destroying the birds and knocking myself back.
Which was largely according to plan, keep forcing him to use it defensively until I could finally kill him.
He generally had more endurance than I could muster, even when I wasn't already winded, but I wasn't simply being arrogant when I assumed myself to be better than him, I could still wear him down if my hits were harder. I moved forward, and he charged this time, dusters switching to lightning dust as they began to sparkle. I pretended to not notice as I responded, awaiting his charge, and creating a glyph underneath myself. The moment he got close, I launched myself in the air. To his credit, he nearly responded in time, reaching upwards and blasting the dust outwards in an explosion, but he wasn't quite quick enough and my leap brought me above and behind him, where I threw my knife at the back of his head. He stumbled, slightly, and I used his being off balance to summon a glyph as I landed, granting me an extra boost of speed as I prepared to thrust my sword in his back, in what seemed to be quite the poetic end for a traitor.
Instead, he simply triggered his semblance, a red explosion surrounding him, throwing me away and sending my off into the distance.
That- hurt far more than it should have. I tried standing up, holding my blade in front of myself, but couldn't force my hand to move quickly enough to avoid a quick punch, the lightning dust forcing a quick spasm of my fingers, dropping my sword to the ground. He followed that up with a casual punch to my stomach, throwing me several feet back from him.
"Hey, fun fact, the Hell energy flowing around this place? That pressure it applies? My semblance lets me store it. Neat, huh? Puts me in a hell of a mood if I spend too long in it, which is probably why they mostly kept me on the other side of the portal. Also helps to, let's say keep in touch with some of my friends here." He grinned at me, as he approached my fallen form.
That smug-
I couldn't properly think of a way to stop him, not with my close-in tactics, and he'd be too fast to summon any useful apparitions. But perhaps…
He noticed my Argent Accumulator roll away from me.
"That's, hah, that might actually be fun. Turn you into one of those possessed. Apparently, it's absolutely awful. There's still a shred of consciousness in them, even as they start trying to murder all of their old companions, as the skin warps and bubbles, they can still understand everything that's happening to them. Might as well indulge a couple little vendettas as I'm saving the world, eh?" He shook his head, blinking. "Ah, sorry about that. I need to guard my emotions a bit better, all this Hell energy puts me in a nasty mood. I'll just kill you quick, and leave a rude epitaph on your grave. Because I'm nice like that."
I summoned two small glyphs as he was approaching. I didn't have time for anything big, and so the first glyph summoned a small raven. He batted it aside, and it fluttered off with the flying equivalent of a limp. "Hah, knew you weren't quite as tough as you liked to act, but even with all the fighting you've done to get here, I'd like to think you could put up a better fight than this, especially with all the time I let you keep on talking. Did you think I didn't notice? Honestly, I just let it happen. I figured a fight like this deserved to be a bit more climactic."
"Now," he said, cracking his knuckles as he approached me, "I'll kill you, kill that unlucky bastard right over there while he's nice and distracted by all those demons, lead this demon army across the world, and other, similar such villainous statements." He laughed, "Ah, sorry, this little boost to my Semblance has given me a hell of a rush, you know? That, and the fact that I was finally able to commit to deciding that the world could be saved. Just, it's a nice feeling, really."
"Enjoy it while it lasts." I said, as my summoned Nevermore dropped the Argent Accumulator directly on his head, where it shattered in a flash of red light, and his aura eagerly drank up all of the accumulated energy.
Meanwhile, Helmer laughed, "Hah, that's, ah, not a bad plan, really." He said, as the energy roiled around him. "But, while my aura does store and amplify the energy, it still protects me, you know? I'm a bit- overcapacity, right now, but it's hardly instantly lethal. I can just vent, and still have just enough aura to kill you with." His body pulsed with another flare of red, as he held a hand to the side and let his hand pulsed his hand red, launching a miniature hell wave off into the distance.
And then the second rune triggered, underneath my sword directly behind him. There was no finesse to the attack, it simply catapulted the sword, blade first, directly into the man's back. He gasped, briefly, before taking a single step forward. "I'm still good-" A shot of red light shot up his arm, and he grimaced. "Ha, should have figured."
He stood there, the hellish energies preventing him from recovering his aura, and his arm jerked forwards, with a snapping of ligaments from the force, and he opened his mouth, but his body couldn't even muster a scream.
I slowly stepped forward, my own aura flickering without the Accumulator to support it.
He was on the ground, kneeling, clearly trying to concentrate on bringing his aura to a point where it wasn't simply prolonging his death, but at this point, it was clearly a death spiral.
I limped behind him, and I placed a foot on his back, grabbing my sword and pulling it out of him in a burst of blood, the Argent clearly overcharging the pumping of his veins, judging by the spray. He fell to ground, still twitching, and I could see the flesh beginning to bubble near his exposed hands.
With a deep breath, and perhaps more aura usage than wise, I thrust the sword downwards again, collapsing over his corpse with the movement, this time piercing the skull and the red stone beneath, his movements finally stopping.
I shuddered, the blade shaking in my hand as I forced it out of the- out of Helmer's skull.
I stood, on shaky legs, and before me was a single Hell Knight. My aura wasn't- it wasn't recharging quite as quickly- ah, my missing Accumulator. The energy pulsing against my aura, far more intensely than on my first, unshielded walk, raged against me. The flowing Hell energy, I don't know if it was more intense because of the destruction of the harvesting devices near the portal, or perhaps the number of demons in the area, but at this point, my energy wasn't recovering, it was draining just to keep me from being twisted by the Hell energy.
I shuddered, trying to see if I could muster the strength to kill this one demon before I collapsed, but I couldn't even move. It was only a question of whether I'd die of an exploded heart or this Hell Knight, or-
And then the Hell Knight's head exploded. Or my ally could shoot it. That too was an option.
I was beginning to fear that I was becoming entirely too accustomed to resigning myself to death.
I shook my head, and stepped towards one of the flickering portal before stumbling.
The one closest to me, the only one that I could likely reach in my current state, was moving, shifting, flickering in and out of existence.
I didn't quite want to find out what might happen if I was one foot in while it closed, but at this point, anything else would likely result in my death, and so I stepped forward, and that nearest portal flicked out of existence.
I, didn't have the speed to reach the portals, did I?
I almost laughed, before I felt large, armored arms grab my waist.
The Slayer lifted me up, uncermoniously tossing me over his shoulder, and simply charged to the nearest portal.
AN:
Sorry for the delay, I was distracted, well, by both quarantine and the release of Doom Eternal.
Luckily, it turns out that Doom Eternal didn't ruin quite as many of my plans as I had feared it might, so I'm still largely canon compliant there. (There's a plot thread I thought of adding that I'd really like a bit more information about before including, but going through the campaign is kind of slow going, and it's not critical or anything.)
Not super happy with this chapter, though there are aspects that I genuinely liked.
Anyway, one chapter remains, plus maybe an epilogue/sequel (eventually.)
For trying to be quick, I was killing a fair number of demons, I noted as left half an Imp behind me. The soldier, for his part, actually seemed to understand my instructions as I left demons behind, and even he simply killed demons as he ran, not killing absolutely everything that got within range of his sight. It seemed as though we'd wiped out the bulk of the forces they were able to assemble before us, or perhaps we were moving too quickly for the demons to prepare any more summonings, I didn't know, and at this point, I didn't care to know the details save for the fact that we only saw the chaff demons as we ran along.
I was still running at a pace where the soldier could keep up.
I'm not sure why, precisely. He didn't want to go through the portal. He wouldn't accompany me. At this point, I knew I wouldn't be able to force him to come with me. I was on a time limit, though the base was close enough to get there with some time to spare. I should have left him behind, logically speaking.
But every time I could have darted ahead, gone over an obstacle, I'd instead go to a place where he could reach, guiding him to the base.
I didn't have the time to be introspective about why, nor did I have the time to talk myself out of it.
Thus, logically, the rational thing to do would be to continue allowing him to keep up.
It was quite reasonable, when put like that.
More and more Hell Knights were butchered and more and more Imps died, thirty minutes of running and fighting, until we reached a cliff that allowed us to overlook the base.
What was left of it, at least.
The Argent cannons were smoking ruins, and most of the prefab shelters were ripped apart.
The only corpses I could see were standing on two legs, their flesh warping into their guns, the Atlas uniforms still intact if bulging in odd places as the flesh warped beneath it.
As we stood there, I saw one of those… possessed… approach a Hell Knight, who casually grabbed it and ripped the corpse in half, almost seeming to laugh as it did so. There weren't many demons around the base, but surrounding the portal itself, were over a hundred demons with more streaming in, and they all seemed to be trying to press through the portal, and more demons joined the throng all the while.
I looked at the crowd, climbing, clambering over each other to enter the gap, and I glanced to my companion. "I don't think I can make it through that," I said, a sort of resignation in my voice.
In response, the soldier next to me stepped forward, and simply cocked his shotgun.
I gave a soft laugh, half exhaustion, and half relief. I couldn't argue with that, I supposed. I shook my head, and I leapt to the ground, and I could hear him following, already shooting with the assault rifle- had he actually switched weapons just to be able to cock the shotgun, solely to make a point? I was fighting alongside a warrior poet, I supposed.
A few Imps near our landing site were already dead by the time we landed, the one directly beneath me died of a sword, straight through the skull and down the neck, before I yanked it out in another spray of blood.
As we landed, a voice boomed out over the base, deep and ominous, and spoke. "SHE MUST NOT LEAVE". However ominous a statement that was in theory, and the less theoretical fact that all the demons present turned to look at us as the voice spoke, it made me smile. If that was an intelligence in charge of the demons, it seemed to take my existence personally. I could take at least some satisfaction in that.
The sort of sprint I had been avoiding during the run to the base, I indulged in, the ground lighting up in glyphs as I slid across it, every Imp I passed skewered, every Hell Knight with its throat cut.
The soldier had leaped up to one of the short, one story buildings, and was now running across the roofs, firing at any demon that either got in his way or seemed about to attack me.
A rocket slammed into the face of a Mancubus, and I dove past the blinded thing, cutting its wires.
Two Hell Knights charged me, and I focused completely on the one on the right, and as its companions attempted to grab me, several bullets slammed into its skull, knocking it off balance long enough to bring my blade to its neck and cut.
Two of those flying jetpack demons aimed for the soldier, but a small swarm of ghostly ravens flocked after that them, biting and harassing the things right up until a gauss round ripped through both of them at once, the soldier having repositioned himself to an angle that allowed him to get both of them with a single charged shot.
A second massive railgun shot blasted into a Baron's chest, staggering it and causing it to stumble, holding itself at an angle. I darted beneath the leaning thing, and stacked three glyphs on top of each other beneath me, before blasting upwards, slamming my blade into his skull hard enough to pierce the impossibly hard thing all the way to the hilt and nearly wrenching my arm out of its socket. The thing staggered, and I held myself upside down for a moment, pressing my feet to its eyes and pushing inwards as I pulled at the sword, and ripping it own in a shower of blood. I fell on the ground with a thump, and as a Hell Knight tried to take advantage of my disadvantaged state, a trio of rockets slammed into its back, killing it instantly, and I was able to roll out of the way before the Baron's corpse collapsed on top of myself.
We ran, killing and fighting, far more synced to the other's state than before, and cut a bloody trail through the already bloodied base, until we finally reached the clustered demons, gathered around an orange sphere where the ruins of the stone arc of the portal had been.
And now- as I saw hundreds of eyes staring at me, ready to attack, I could admit that I wasn't entirely sure about how to handle this.
At my side, the soldier stood next to me, his railgun disappearing in his hands and instead-
A ridiculously, ludicrously sized weapon appeared in his hands. It was a massive, at least two feet high and two across, and several feet long. It had green veins of energy running along its sides.
It- I could think of no other way to describe it, it was- an exceedingly large firearm.
He pulled the trigger of the weapon, and a massive ball of green plasma shot out, and darted over the crowd, the green ball sparking, shooting chains of lightning at all the demons near it, scouring flesh just with its passing as it shot above the crowd, and as demons were killed by the lightning, they exploded in more flashes of green light, wounding more demons that exploded in turn.
Scores of these demons, tightly packed as they were, had already been wounded or killed by the passing of the sphere, and it hadn't even reached its target, which was the portal itself?
It struck the portal, and the portal shook, wavering, shaking, and ripped apart, space itself ripping in the midst of the demonic crowd, as half their bodies were suddenly teleported half an inch above their torsos, effectively slicing them in half.
The air roared with dying demons, until the portal flickered, and in its place, a dozen other, smaller portals took its place.
Had he, known that would happen? How well had his people understood Hell?
I shook my head, as stomping feet indicated the presence of a new wave of demons, some of them charging from the base, including the corpses of possessed Atlas soldiers, and the rest were demons that had been approaching the portal. Still, as long as we got through one of those- flickering, unstable portals, we should be able to make it through. And then a single figure strolled through one of the portals still on the ground, a slight frown on his face, and the demons paused in their advance.
"Ah. Winter." Rowan Helmer said, hands in his pockets. "I admit, I was a bit surprised to see you here. Kind of thought you'd be long dead." He grinned and tilted his head, "Hoped, really."
…
I had been so distracted by Blaine's sacrifice that I had forgotten his implication of an actual traitor, hadn't I?
"You're the traitor, then? Any particular reason you betrayed our world to hordes of sadistic demons?" I asked, hand on the mechanism to separate my dagger from my sword.
"I didn't betray the whole world, really. Just that old oath to defend all the people's of Remnant. They gave you a pretty similar offer, as I understand it. Keep Atlas safe, wipe out the Grimm, sacrifice a few other nations to the demons. Simple, really."
"And you trusted that offer?"
"Eh," He shrugged, with a casual ease. "It's not something I liked to advertise, seeing as to how that movement isn't exactly popular in the military, but I'm a bit of an Inevitablist. You know, everything we do against the Grimm is futile, any progress we make is an illusion, the Kingdoms will die out with a whimper unless something, ah, changes the equation a bit. I'm willing to bet on a longshot victory over a certain but slow doom, and by my assessment, the demons are that long shot."
I sneered, "Gambling with the lives of others is something I'd expect of you, really." My actions were an odd balance, if I was being honest. Entirely a gamble. He looked fresh for a fight, and I was still winded, while demons still gathered behind us. I couldn't win against him in my current state, so I needed time to restore myself, but the longer we spent talking, the more demons would arrive, and the more likely it would be that the portals would finally shut and leave me to my own doomed last stand.
"Hey," he smirked and spread out his hands, "My life's on the line too, if you think about it. I'd have preferred to use the resources of Hell, harvesting Argent energy without the cooperation of the demons, but, well, you kind of ruined that by grabbing the Slayer." He chuckled, and nodded his head to where the soldier accompanying me stood. "Let me tell you, you signed on with a real hero over there."
My eyes didn't move to the side. This was a conversation, but- I didn't trust the man. For reasons beyond his current, obvious treachery. "And why did my meeting him ruin your plans?" At least I had some title for the man, though I had absolutely no context for it.
The soldier beside me glanced between us, at the paused demons, before turning fully to face Helmer, and as he manifested his shotgun, I could hear the creak of wood as he squeezed it tightly, coming to a conclusion. I looked to him, then pointed at the demons. I pointed at myself, then at Helmer. Let me handle the person, and you can handle the demons. For a moment, he actually seemed torn, which was surprising to me, as I hadn't expect that to be a difficult sell, but he eventually nodded at me, and turned to face the demons, manifesting his Exceedingly Large Firearm and pointing it at the demons who were gathering, and just waiting for one to make the first move.
"I, ah, overheard your conversation with the colonel. If you confirmed that the demons have wiped out other worlds of humans, you'd have likely shut down the whole project, and leave our one shot at a true victory dashed by an admittedly reasonable fear. So, we tried deterring you, whittling you down, but, ah, apparently, you proved just as willing to spend lives to pursue the objective as I am. So we tried killing you, or at least, preventing you from returning with proof, but that didn't quite work out for us. I could be a real hypocrite here and say that everything that happened to this place was your fault, but I think that would be pretty transparent of me."
"Of course, your plan seems to have already failed, what with the portal being destroyed."
"Yeah, got to say, the demons who contacted me were pretty cheesed off by that. I knew ol' Ronny was a petty little shit, but I didn't think it went that far."
I decided to try pushing a button, just to confirm an old suspicion of mine. "That fauna showed more integrity then you ever have or will. He had a chance to make a difficult decision, and he chose to sacrifice himself above others."
"That insect shit would've been better off if his mother had died with him in the mines."
I took a moment to think through that statement.
"How curious." I tilted my head. "I couldn't actually tell if that contempt in your voice was racism or disdain for the disabled. Considering my general opinion of you, I'll just assume that it was both when I give your eulogy."
He gave an insincere smirk as he shook his head at me in an odd way. "You'd really do that?"
"You know me. Do you have any doubt in your mind that I would not hesitate to approach your mother and tell her what an awful person her child grew up to be, as well as the names of every single person you murdered on this base?" I asked, tinting my voice with a hint of curiosity, as if I was honestly surprised by the thought that I wouldn't do just such a thing.
He just stared at me for a few seconds, and reached into his pockets. When he withdrew them, he was wearing his signature knuckle-dusters. "I think we're done here." He said.
I gave my most sincere smirk, and nodded, "Agreed." Truthfully, making him angry enough to wipe that mocking smile off of his face did far more to restore my aura than any amount of meditation could.
I charged without a salute, he raised his fists, I heard the ELF firing at the swarms of demons behind me, and the fight was on.
My sword split into two. It was a balance, fighting Helmer, I noted as my weapons darted at his fists. He could detonate the dust in the hands whenever he wanted, either shooting at me, or boosting the speed of his punch. His Semblance could protect him from the backblast without much difficulty. If he was hit too hard, he could take all the force he had been hit by, and explode, pushing back or harming anyone near him, and he wouldn't hesitate to use it to either shield himself or to attack.
So my sword darted around his hands, pushing, trying to force him to use the dust to block, to divert, to shield. Trying to open him up for that one, powerful strike that could pierce his aura and nullify his defenses.
And despite whatever I enjoyed saying about him, his sole virtue was his skill in a fight, I had to admit, weaving in and out of my guard with ease.
One brutal right hook slammed into my face. When I snarled, he simply smirked as he jumped back, bouncing from foot to foot.
I didn't want to use my Semblance before he did, but- his Semblance's offensive properties tended to be more of a fight ender, from what I knew of his playbook. And so I summoned a small flock of ravens, just to harass him, at the same time that I charged.
As I and my flock approached, he exploded, destroying the birds and knocking myself back.
Which was largely according to plan, keep forcing him to use it defensively until I could finally kill him.
He generally had more endurance than I could muster, even when I wasn't already winded, but I wasn't simply being arrogant when I assumed myself to be better than him, I could still wear him down if my hits were harder. I moved forward, and he charged this time, dusters switching to lightning dust as they began to sparkle. I pretended to not notice as I responded, awaiting his charge, and creating a glyph underneath myself. The moment he got close, I launched myself in the air. To his credit, he nearly responded in time, reaching upwards and blasting the dust outwards in an explosion, but he wasn't quite quick enough and my leap brought me above and behind him, where I threw my knife at the back of his head. He stumbled, slightly, and I used his being off balance to summon a glyph as I landed, granting me an extra boost of speed as I prepared to thrust my sword in his back, in what seemed to be quite the poetic end for a traitor.
Instead, he simply triggered his semblance, a red explosion surrounding him, throwing me away and sending my off into the distance.
That- hurt far more than it should have. I tried standing up, holding my blade in front of myself, but couldn't force my hand to move quickly enough to avoid a quick punch, the lightning dust forcing a quick spasm of my fingers, dropping my sword to the ground. He followed that up with a casual punch to my stomach, throwing me several feet back from him.
"Hey, fun fact, the Hell energy flowing around this place? That pressure it applies? My semblance lets me store it. Neat, huh? Puts me in a hell of a mood if I spend too long in it, which is probably why they mostly kept me on the other side of the portal. Also helps to, let's say keep in touch with some of my friends here." He grinned at me, as he approached my fallen form.
That smug-
I couldn't properly think of a way to stop him, not with my close-in tactics, and he'd be too fast to summon any useful apparitions. But perhaps…
He noticed my Argent Accumulator roll away from me.
"That's, hah, that might actually be fun. Turn you into one of those possessed. Apparently, it's absolutely awful. There's still a shred of consciousness in them, even as they start trying to murder all of their old companions, as the skin warps and bubbles, they can still understand everything that's happening to them. Might as well indulge a couple little vendettas as I'm saving the world, eh?" He shook his head, blinking. "Ah, sorry about that. I need to guard my emotions a bit better, all this Hell energy puts me in a nasty mood. I'll just kill you quick, and leave a rude epitaph on your grave. Because I'm nice like that."
I summoned two small glyphs as he was approaching. I didn't have time for anything big, and so the first glyph summoned a small raven. He batted it aside, and it fluttered off with the flying equivalent of a limp. "Hah, knew you weren't quite as tough as you liked to act, but even with all the fighting you've done to get here, I'd like to think you could put up a better fight than this, especially with all the time I let you keep on talking. Did you think I didn't notice? Honestly, I just let it happen. I figured a fight like this deserved to be a bit more climactic."
"Now," he said, cracking his knuckles as he approached me, "I'll kill you, kill that unlucky bastard right over there while he's nice and distracted by all those demons, lead this demon army across the world, and other, similar such villainous statements." He laughed, "Ah, sorry, this little boost to my Semblance has given me a hell of a rush, you know? That, and the fact that I was finally able to commit to deciding that the world could be saved. Just, it's a nice feeling, really."
"Enjoy it while it lasts." I said, as my summoned Nevermore dropped the Argent Accumulator directly on his head, where it shattered in a flash of red light, and his aura eagerly drank up all of the accumulated energy.
Meanwhile, Helmer laughed, "Hah, that's, ah, not a bad plan, really." He said, as the energy roiled around him. "But, while my aura does store and amplify the energy, it still protects me, you know? I'm a bit- overcapacity, right now, but it's hardly instantly lethal. I can just vent, and still have just enough aura to kill you with." His body pulsed with another flare of red, as he held a hand to the side and let his hand pulsed his hand red, launching a miniature hell wave off into the distance.
And then the second rune triggered, underneath my sword directly behind him. There was no finesse to the attack, it simply catapulted the sword, blade first, directly into the man's back. He gasped, briefly, before taking a single step forward. "I'm still good-" A shot of red light shot up his arm, and he grimaced. "Ha, should have figured."
He stood there, the hellish energies preventing him from recovering his aura, and his arm jerked forwards, with a snapping of ligaments from the force, and he opened his mouth, but his body couldn't even muster a scream.
I slowly stepped forward, my own aura flickering without the Accumulator to support it.
He was on the ground, kneeling, clearly trying to concentrate on bringing his aura to a point where it wasn't simply prolonging his death, but at this point, it was clearly a death spiral.
I limped behind him, and I placed a foot on his back, grabbing my sword and pulling it out of him in a burst of blood, the Argent clearly overcharging the pumping of his veins, judging by the spray. He fell to ground, still twitching, and I could see the flesh beginning to bubble near his exposed hands.
With a deep breath, and perhaps more aura usage than wise, I thrust the sword downwards again, collapsing over his corpse with the movement, this time piercing the skull and the red stone beneath, his movements finally stopping.
I shuddered, the blade shaking in my hand as I forced it out of the- out of Helmer's skull.
I stood, on shaky legs, and before me was a single Hell Knight. My aura wasn't- it wasn't recharging quite as quickly- ah, my missing Accumulator. The energy pulsing against my aura, far more intensely than on my first, unshielded walk, raged against me. The flowing Hell energy, I don't know if it was more intense because of the destruction of the harvesting devices near the portal, or perhaps the number of demons in the area, but at this point, my energy wasn't recovering, it was draining just to keep me from being twisted by the Hell energy.
I shuddered, trying to see if I could muster the strength to kill this one demon before I collapsed, but I couldn't even move. It was only a question of whether I'd die of an exploded heart or this Hell Knight, or-
And then the Hell Knight's head exploded. Or my ally could shoot it. That too was an option.
I was beginning to fear that I was becoming entirely too accustomed to resigning myself to death.
I shook my head, and stepped towards one of the flickering portal before stumbling.
The one closest to me, the only one that I could likely reach in my current state, was moving, shifting, flickering in and out of existence.
I didn't quite want to find out what might happen if I was one foot in while it closed, but at this point, anything else would likely result in my death, and so I stepped forward, and that nearest portal flicked out of existence.
I, didn't have the speed to reach the portals, did I?
I almost laughed, before I felt large, armored arms grab my waist.
The Slayer lifted me up, uncermoniously tossing me over his shoulder, and simply charged to the nearest portal.
AN:
Sorry for the delay, I was distracted, well, by both quarantine and the release of Doom Eternal.
Luckily, it turns out that Doom Eternal didn't ruin quite as many of my plans as I had feared it might, so I'm still largely canon compliant there. (There's a plot thread I thought of adding that I'd really like a bit more information about before including, but going through the campaign is kind of slow going, and it's not critical or anything.)
Not super happy with this chapter, though there are aspects that I genuinely liked.
Anyway, one chapter remains, plus maybe an epilogue/sequel (eventually.)
Neolander
I can't have ANYTHING! in Mega-Hive Detroit
Ah.... Was wondering which one would inevitability go traitor.... At least his reasons aren't super mega dumb, just super dumb with a dash of fatalism, a pinch of pessimism, and a large cup of defeatism...
This boi don't 'Rage Against the Darkness' yeet his ass out of 'ere, he broke, I repeat, Huntsman machine broke.... enough memes....
Tho I'm surprise the Grimm ain't bumrushed the base as soon as the Demons arrive... No Grimm on Demon action... Man guess I'll wait till next chapter.
This boi don't 'Rage Against the Darkness' yeet his ass out of 'ere, he broke, I repeat, Huntsman machine broke.... enough memes....
Tho I'm surprise the Grimm ain't bumrushed the base as soon as the Demons arrive... No Grimm on Demon action... Man guess I'll wait till next chapter.
Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
I suppose the Slayer'll throw her through, but...
If you don't want to end the story immediately, he could go through with her. Considering everything, I suspect he'd eventually make his way back to hell anyway. They made the portal once; they can do it again, even if just to send him back.
If you don't want to end the story immediately, he could go through with her. Considering everything, I suspect he'd eventually make his way back to hell anyway. They made the portal once; they can do it again, even if just to send him back.
- Location
- Philippines
Is this Winter centric or is there a super macho doom guy stand-in?
Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
...yes?
It isn't a long story. You'd find out pretty quickly by reading, and I don't think we should post spoilers.
To the people who posted before I put the chapter up: Thanks for the praise, and I'm glad that you're comfortable with the story length.
I might add the first few lines of the next chapter to this one to make it more clear, but the Slayer is now on Remnant, having needed to carry her through. He couldn't really just safely toss her through the portal, considering their flickering, and all of the stuff that was probably happening on the other side.
(Not having the Slayer have a chance to rip and tear some Grimm would be a wasted opportunity, in my opinion.)
Also, someone asked me a question on SB and I think the answer should be crossposted here, though some of the information might also be conveyed in the Ozpin PoV chapter I've been considering.
Also, fun fact: One of my guiding motivations, the principle things that motivated me to finish this story, was to have a character who might conceivably refer to the BFG as the Exceedingly Large Firearm (ELF).
That was actually a significant driver for me, as dumb as it is.
I might add the first few lines of the next chapter to this one to make it more clear, but the Slayer is now on Remnant, having needed to carry her through. He couldn't really just safely toss her through the portal, considering their flickering, and all of the stuff that was probably happening on the other side.
(Not having the Slayer have a chance to rip and tear some Grimm would be a wasted opportunity, in my opinion.)
Also, someone asked me a question on SB and I think the answer should be crossposted here, though some of the information might also be conveyed in the Ozpin PoV chapter I've been considering.
I would note that to a certain extent the demons were sandbagging. They weren't quite willing to just... back off and let the Atlas people work safely, and they wanted to keep them relatively contained, but Hell has a lot of scary stuff up its sleeve that it didn't bring anywhere near the portal. Currently, they have one access point to Remnant, and they know that Atlas is being a lot more cautious than the UAC was, and it probably more willing to just cut its losses and blow the whole facility the moment it looks like it'll fail. So they made sure that the Remnant entry point into Hell wasn't safe, but it was manageable.
They haven't really sent any big demons towards the Remnant portal, or Hell Priests, they're kind of hoping to get a few converts first, you know, get a soldier/Specialist to go visit an isolated village, build a gore nest or two, hit the portal base from both sides, that sort of thing. They're playing it relatively slow and subtle with Remnant, for a variety of reasons.
Then the heavy metal music started playing, they noted the Doom Guy got closer than was comfortable for any "Slow and Steady" corruption plan, and the time table got accelerated.
Now, none of that is to say that demons would have an easy time of conquering Remnant, and unless they played it carefully, absorbing Remnant might even be a net loss for them (even if it does have some... unique appeal) what with the relatively low population, the number of elite fighters, and, well, hordes of monsters that they really can't get anything out of, and aren't exactly shabby in a fight. Also, since one of the more dangerous aspects of demons for mortal armies is their teleporting behind battlelines, well, that's slightly less of a concern for Remnant, who have a bunch of really good melee fighters, and absolutely no concern at all for Grimm, who don't particularly... have supply lines.
They haven't really sent any big demons towards the Remnant portal, or Hell Priests, they're kind of hoping to get a few converts first, you know, get a soldier/Specialist to go visit an isolated village, build a gore nest or two, hit the portal base from both sides, that sort of thing. They're playing it relatively slow and subtle with Remnant, for a variety of reasons.
Then the heavy metal music started playing, they noted the Doom Guy got closer than was comfortable for any "Slow and Steady" corruption plan, and the time table got accelerated.
Now, none of that is to say that demons would have an easy time of conquering Remnant, and unless they played it carefully, absorbing Remnant might even be a net loss for them (even if it does have some... unique appeal) what with the relatively low population, the number of elite fighters, and, well, hordes of monsters that they really can't get anything out of, and aren't exactly shabby in a fight. Also, since one of the more dangerous aspects of demons for mortal armies is their teleporting behind battlelines, well, that's slightly less of a concern for Remnant, who have a bunch of really good melee fighters, and absolutely no concern at all for Grimm, who don't particularly... have supply lines.
Also, fun fact: One of my guiding motivations, the principle things that motivated me to finish this story, was to have a character who might conceivably refer to the BFG as the Exceedingly Large Firearm (ELF).
That was actually a significant driver for me, as dumb as it is.
Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
An interesting set of points.
I might add that, for all the nonsense Salem gets up to, she isn't a demon. She has no intention of wiping out humanity. If she did, they'd be dead. So while it'd be strange bedfellows indeed, if the demons had made it through we might even have seen an Ozpin/Salem team-up once again.
- Location
- Sealed away in a pure maidens heart
Ah yes, the E.L.F. for short, or the Exceedingly Large Firearm for long. Truly, it is a Gentleman's weapon!
The Return Trip
We emerged from Hell and into an entirely different form of hell. Whatever instability of the portal had resulted in us emerging outside of the Remnant-side base, instead of inside the portal room. Which was a good thing, as the base that I was currently staring at was a twisted mass of melted stone and metal, largely collapsed on itself, and on the ground outside it there were a a few scattered lumps on the ground barely recognizable as corpses.
There were no demons in the ruins, and my ears brought my attention to why, exactly, the demons weren't defiling the corpses or whatever they did when they achieved their goals.
There was a battle taking place behind us.
The Grimm had broken through the defensive lines, and were fighting the demons.
Beowolves were obliterated under waves of plasma from the laughing mouths of cacodemons, Imps hurled their flames at Creeps that were swarming Hell Knights, who were quite capable of handling a few at once, but here the Grimm had arrived in the hundreds.
One of the giant Nevermore had been brought down, and five mancubi had surrounded it, covering it with flame.
A Baron of Hell brawled with several Beringel, these ones much younger than the one I had summoned, and this fight seemed much more even.
Pinkies would simply charge through the Grimmm ranks, throwing aside lesser Grimm, only to for their momentum to be slowed down just enough to be attacked from behind, as they were raked to death by Grimm claws.
I suspected the battle had been far more even before we had shut down the portal, but for now, it seemed that the Grimm had enough numbers to overwhelm the demons, even if it looked to be a close fight.
The question of why or how so many Grimm that weren't native to the area had arrived could be asked later.
Good strategy would have myself and the Slayer wait out the battle, picking off the largest Grimm as the two sides whittled each other down, and hope that the survivors of this battle were few enough for us to finish off.
Before I could even begin to think of a way to communicate this thought, of course, he had immediately charged in, shoving a Hell Knight off of a Beowolf and shooting the Hell Knight in the face with his double barreled shotgun, obliterating the skull in a spray of viscera.
Before the Grimm could even begin to make its own response to its… rescue, the Slayer had moved on, with careful, calculated precision, meddling in every fight that it seemed the demons had started to push back the tides of Grimm. Rockets were sent at the knees of Barons, distracting them just long enough for a half dozen Beowolves to climb on top of its and begin biting and scratching with their terrible fervor. Cacodemons blasted apart with salvos of miniature rockets coming from his assault rifle, weakening long enough for a small collection of Lancers, their wasp like forms darting about the battlefield, to close in and sting the eyes. Truthfully, I wished I could record this. I was too exhausted to truly appreciate the view of either demons killing Grimm or Grimm killing demons, and I suspected that I would have found a quiet satisfaction in watching the videos once I was safe and well rested.
I stood there, staring, a combination of exhaustion and surprise keeping myself from trying to respond to his actions. I glanced to my side, where that first, rescued beowolf was standing in what seemed to be confusion, as if it couldn't quite understand the situation it had found itself in.
We experienced that brief moment of shared empathy and mutual confusion, before it snarled and I stabbed it in the eye. I'd likely been projecting anyway.
I looked about the battlefield, looking to see more Grimm I might be able to handle in my current state. Our odds of survival weren't terribly great, I had to say. I could have just laid down, but in all honesty I had already tried to resign myself to a quiet, dignified death at least twice today, and was growing quite tired of doing so.
So far, I suspected that taking a few moments for recovery would be the most useful.
The Nevermore quite thoroughly dead, the Mancubi sent waves of rockets against the encroaching waves of black fur and white bone, dozens of beowolves dying in the rush. The Baron of Hell simply grabbed two of the Beringel that it had been fighting, grasping their skulls and igniting its arms in green flames even as the third had climbed on its back and begun strangling it. The gorilla-like Grimm in the things' grasp were killed, their bone masks melting in the thing's grasp, but with a sudden twist, the Baron's neck was twisted to an unnatural angle, and the surviving Beringel roared in satisfaction.
The Mancubi held their formation, flamethrowers and rockets blasting at once, wave after wave of Grimm obliterated in what almost seemed a perverse mockery of a noble last stand, but eventually, the Lancers, having cleared the skies of flying demons, sneaked behind the grotesque things and skewered them, piercing at cables and mechanical pieces, seemingly uncaring as the cables leaked fuel that ignited on contact with the air, burning the demons and themselves alike.
And then, with a single Imp ripped in half by two Beowolves, the fight seemed over, for a moment. The Slayer stood in a circle of snarling Grimm, before the dumb bastard actually lowered his weapon, dismissing it from his hands in a slight flash of light. Was he? Before that moment, it had never truly occurred to me that he might not actually have ever seen a Grimm before, whatever land he had come from, and the only Grimm he had ever seen being the ones I had summoned. He might not even know what they were. So of course the insane berserker would attempt diplomacy with the damned things.
That slight moment of seeming vulnerability was all the opening they needed for the temporary truce to end and the Grimm to attack, the first Grimm to charge being another Beowolf. I couldn't tell if he simply had excellent reflexes, if he had been anticipating treachery, or if his constant state of battle meaning that even when attempting to be diplomatic his mind was still caught in full battle readiness, but with a seeming utter lack of surprise, he stepped to the side and under the Beowolf's attack, and struck the chest of the thing with a crushing blow.
It wasn't dead, merely stunned, and so he moved behind the thing, and without even looking back, his hand summoned his pistol, and shot the thing in the back several times, and that was when the rest of the Grimm attacked.
And the brutality he had enacted on the demons was then forced upon the Grimm.
They tried surrounding him, simply mobbing him and forcing him still by pressuring him, but he jumped above the swarm around him, tossing a few grenades where he previously stood and blasting apart a crowd too tightly packed to avoid it.
The Slayer reached the edge of the formation and brought out his triple-minigun weapon and began shredding through their ranks, shadow-stuff blasting from the Grimm bodies as they were ripped apart.
The surviving Lancers arrived, moving to the soldier's blindspot, and he turned to face them, switching to his missile launcher, and took a moment to aim at three of the Lancers before firing off a salvo of missiles that easily tracked their motions in the air despite their attempts to dodge, shattering their bodies in the air and sending what parts of them were intact crashing to the ground, and then fired two more at the remaining Lancers, disposing of them just as swiftly. Quick and efficient though it was, it was still slow enough for the Beowolves to catch up to him, one leaping onto his back even as he tried to turn around, seemingly more intent on weighing him down than trying to claw through his aura or his armor as it tried to straddle his form.
He summoned his double barreled shotgun again, blasting it off and and just barely leaping backwards in time to dodge a second Beowolf, and I turned my gaze. As much as I wanted to charge in and fight by his side, I had had no where near enough time to recover, I couldn't summon, I was nearly out of dust to empower the summons anyway, but there was something-
I glanced through the flaming ruins, and saw one of the large plasma turrets, pieces of it strewn about, and far too damaged for me to repair. Still, I had an idea for something that I could do, and something that I could admit I sincerely wanted to see.
I ran to it, breathing far more heavily than I should have been at this level of speed, not even using runes to augment my pace, not quite feeling able to afford that level of aura usage as I ran across the blasted ground, awkwardly leaping over the occasional piece of debris or dead body.
It didn't take too long for me to reach one of the turrets and awkwardly pry one of the bottom panels open using my sword, and I felt a brief bit of relief. As I had expected, where most of this model of gun would normally keep its dust stores, this one had a single, glowing Argent sphere with a number of wires almost awkwardly attached to it. It was a proof of concept, I supposed, just a bastardization of an existing Dust design modified to use Argent instead, but it still offended me.
…
Not just for the lack of tidiness, but for the fact that I wasn't entirely certain as to how to unplug the thing without causing it to explode, especially since part of the machinery it was attached to was currently on fire.
I frowned as I looked at the cables, and made my best guess, slicing quickly and efficiently with my sword and carefully not imagining what might happen if my guess was wrong. Quite fortunately, other than one shower of sparks, one that burned slightly burned when it landed on my skin, but that level of pain only earned a quick grimace.
The small sphere was quite capable of providing for a small town's energy needs for two months, by my memory.
I yanked the device out of its recess and shoved it clumsily into a pocket.
I stood up and moved away from the turret, and glanced towards the ground, where the soldier operating the gun had fallen. While it made me feel a vulture, I reached down and grabbed the shotgun, still held in bloody hands, of the young woman, trying to avoid looking past the shattered faceplate and into the wide eyes, yanking it out of the grip of the soldier. Popping open the gun, I glanced into the the magazine. Still full, she hadn't had a chance to defend herself after the Grimm or demons had reached her position.
Which was unfortunately convenient for me, as I took the weapon into my hands, along with a couple of spare magazines, and began running back to the Slayer.
If I didn't have the aura to fight using my swords, well, a gun should at least prevent me from being entirely useless.
When I returned, the Slayer was pinned below body of an Ursa, the massive bearlike thing holding the Slayer with one claw and supporting itself with the other, the Slayer using both hands to prevent the Ursa's jaws from reaching his body.
I switched my gun to one hand, and hurled the multi-million lien device along the ground like a bowling ball, and it bounced several times until it rolled to a stop, tapping the side of the soldier's helmet.
For the briefest of moments I stood there watching, not quite sure what to do, before I raised my shotgun to my shoulder, aimed very, very carefully, and blasted the incredibly powerful device that was mere inches from the soldier's head, shattering the glass-like container in an explosion of red energy.
The Ursa almost seemed dazed for a moment, as the red energy flowed into it, but far more relevant was the reaction of the Slayer as red energy flowed into his body, sparking like lightning across his arms and body. Instead of attempting to push the Ursa, he shifted his hands and began to squeeze, and even from where I was standing the crunching noise was audible as the skull shattered around the Grimm's face and its face collapsed inwards.
He grabbed the shattered form and tossed it off of himself, and rushed the Grimm. And I had a fine chance to watch as he demonstrated the exact sort of brutality that he had against the demons as he fought against the Grimm.
Or, rather, not quite the same. There was little of the visceral hatred he seemed to feel against the demons. There was certainly aggression, I could see that from the way that he ripped apart the Grimm and tore a particularly unlucky Creep in half. There was no moment of relish, or allowing the Grimm to comprehend exactly what was happening to it.
The last surviving Lancer tried to sneak behind him, but he grabbed it by the stinger, and stabbed it into the nearest Beowolf, before giving the impaled Lancer a brutal punch, crushing the chitin-like bone of flying Grimm and obliterating the face of the creature, killing it before moving onto the next collection of suddenly hapless Grimm.
Unfortunately, while that was a fine show, I was soon distracted from paying my full attention to it.
Even above the clamor around the Slayer, I could hear a scratching on the ground behind me. Turning my head, I saw an Ursa, an old beast, much of its body covered in bone, this one carrying itself and walking more like how an actual bear might.
A junior Hunstman still at the academy might have difficulty with facing such a foe. A specialist, theoretically, should find it a mild nuisance, if it was unsupported.
In my current state, well, I wasn't going to die here.
I aimed my shotgun at the beast and fired without ceremony, a few pellets grazing the thing's shoulder with sparks of electricity even as it charged against me.
I rolled to the side, scowling at my lack of accuracy. It had been over a year since I had last used a gun, and apparently I was rusty, though that might be attributed to tiredness.
I fired another shot at the thing as it raced by me, most of the pellets sparking on the snow beneath the thing. When dealing with well armored Grimm, one could either use precision to target the unarmored parts, or sheer brute force (in my case, my larger summons) to simply smash through. And neither seemed to be an option for me at the moment.
It managed to arrest its momentum faster than I would have expected for a blind charge (that had been a feint, obviously) for it to bat back at me with its claw, and I barely leapt backwards fast enough to avoid it, landing slightly awkwardly, leaving it enough time to reorient for another attack even as I adjusted my feet.
It snarled and widened its mouth, ready to bite at me and while I managed to cock the shotgun, I didn't have the time to actually dodge.
I didn't think I'd be able to hurt it enough even if I used my sword and struck at one of its unarmored spots, as getting the sword deep enough to wound the thing would leave me vulnerable to a counterattack, and at this point such could likely kill me.
Of course, failing to shoot anything vulnerable while I slowly exhausted myself was also a terrible plan, but-
I reached into one of my pouches, and pulled out one of the dust magazines I'd picked up. Perhaps…
This time when it made a low, lunging charge I leapt above it, rolling along the top of the raging thing, the hard bone hurting more than I had expected, sharp jutting bone stabbing into my back in ways that likely would leave a bruise once this was all over.
Of course, as an elder Grimm, it had the raw experience to not be confused by little trick. Even as I rolled over it, it slammed its front paws into the broken snow, forcefully halting its momentum, and instead of quickly turning around, it simply twisted enough for it to kick out with its foot, striking me- quite firmly in chest, and I gave out a gasp of breath as I was knocked further back than I had anticipated.
I rolled along the ground, bumping across rocks, branches, and the odd corpse as the thing turned around at a leisurely pace. Ah, yes, now was the point where it would fight at a more slower pace, letting my fear and pain summon even more Grimm.
I sneered, as I slowly forced myself to stand, gun and magazine still in hand. As far as negative emotions went, I wouldn't give it my fear. Anger, though, anger I could give in abundance.
With one hand, I aimed the shotgun at the thing and fired, which prompted another bounding charge. Its kick had given me enough distance that I could grip the pump with the two fingers that weren't holding the magazine and pull it back as it got closer.
It roared as it neared, and I threw the magazine to the open, roaring mouth, just as according to plan. And the thing simply turned its head ever so slightly and ignored my improvised projectile. I could barely stumble out of the way of that attack, though fortunately, this one hadn't been a feint and it took several seconds of sliding across the ground to reorient itself, time I took to fumble with my pouches and pull out the second magazine. Fire dust.
The thing charged, and I grimaced as I aimed my shotgun at the Grimm, still one handed, and my aim wavered as it charged, the effort of holding up a gun like this one handed almost too much in the state I was in. The thing charged, and I stumbled back, holding my other hand out in front as it moved to bite, and its jaws moved past my hand, past my elbow, and just below my shoulder before the the thing bit, and shook, more like a dog or a wolf than like a bear, throwing my body back and forth, before there was a sickening crunch as my aura collapsed once more, and I was free, sending my body crashing against the dirt.
I could barely see as my vision was flashing, as I instinctively tried to control my roll with an arm that wasn't there, open wound slamming against the snow and sending me into further agony. I groaned with what little air was left in my lungs at that.
I could barely form a coherent thought as I rolled to a stop, vision blurring, but eventually, a single strain of thought managed to assemble itself within my mind.
Fuck.
That.
Bear.
I aimed my shotgun at where I could hear the damned thing's chewing, briefly experiencing a perverse sense of thankfulness for the blurring of my vision as I did not want to see what it was doing right now, and fired. Without aura fortifying my body, the recoil alone of firing a shotgun one-handed would have bruised me, even without jostling my wounds and blinding me again with pain.
And that shot was exceptionally lucky, I could admit. It blasted into the open mouth of Grimm, the pellets shot and ricocheted inside the opened mouth of the Grimm, shredding what remained of my arm even further, and struck what I had been holding in my hand when the arm had been lost.
A full magazine of fire dust.
Old and powerful as the Grimm might have been, it couldn't survive the explosion coming from within its body, though it managed to make two, hesitant steps, before collapsing and dying.
Ha.
Even through the pain, I could appreciate the thing's death. I gave a grim smile, and even that hurt.
My vision blacked out.
I couldn't- I couldn't perceive the passing of time, but somehow, between blinks, the pain had very slightly dimmed, the blurring had been reduced, and the battlefield had gone silent, save for the slow approach of heavy footsteps. I could see the figure, with his blue face mask, looking down at me, head shifting slightly to look at my arm- my stump- the arm was missing, I could feel it missing, I'd seen it-
I'd have shaken my head if that wouldn't have made the pain worse.
He stood there, staring, and I wondered what he was thinking, before he pulled out his plasma gun. My face turned angry, was he- I could- I would survive this, I didn't need-
He aimed to the side without bothering to look and held down the trigger, long streams of plasma balls blasting apart- something I didn't care enough to turn my head to see. After several continuous seconds of firing, he stopped, weapon steaming and hissing with the heat in the cold air, what was he- I glanced towards my bleeding arm.
Ah.
Despite everything, it took me a moment to react, to really think. It was- it was necessary, but it would be done at my request
I gave him a nod, and if that nod was shakier than I had intended, I doubted he would have judged me.
He reached down and grabbed a small branch and pressed it towards my face. Why- ah, I knew why, I thought as I bit down on it. To prevent me from shattering my teeth, or possibly biting my tongue off. I adjusted it in my mouth, some odd part of me distantly noting that it actually did taste better than my energy bars.
And then he lowered the hissing steaming gun to my side, and pressed it against the open wound.
Snow and blood steamed out, and the pain redoubled.
It was- absolute agony. I couldn't think, I couldn't truly judge whether it was more or less painful than the original wound had been, but I tried to keep my body still, to hissing gun steady as it did its work, but it- wasn't easy.
The broken-off branch in my mouth twitched, then shattered, bits of twig and splinters gathering in my mouth, and even I was only barely able to notice the unpleasant feel through the pain.
I am perfectly willing to pretend that I acted in an entirely dignified fashion in response to the pain.
At some point, the man returned, leaving me to wonder when he had left, and he was holding a medical kit. For a brief moment, I wondered how he had determined that it was in fact a medical kit, before he presented it to me, and I could see the broken latch and the various pills, syringes, and bandages within strewn about in total disarray. That was, presumably, universal for some sort of first aid kit.
I glanced at the various items, looking at the only item I was actively familiar with, the painkillers, and frowned. I… normally would have ignored the instructions on the bottle to only take two at a time and instead taken four, for the level of pain I was currently feeling, they tended to give dosages for people without a Specialist's constitution, but- I was missing an arm. Did that, do anything, regarding bodyweight when it came to medications? I honestly couldn't recall, though I had the irritating feeling that the subject had come up before, either in conversation with Ironwood or in training.
I compromised and took three, awkwardly popping off the lid with my remaining hand. These were- the only short term side effect should be feeling sick to my stomach if I got the dosage wrong. I could save the heavier painkillers for when I was outside of hostile territory and safely in a hospital bed.
I credited my immediately feeling somewhat better to the placebo effect, but it was enough for me to sit up. Among the other items in the medical kit was a supplement for helping a body to restore iron after severe blood loss, and I took that as well.
Aura would help, it already was helping, whatever aura had trickled back was soothing the burns on my- stump, but the less that my aura needed to handle, the more it could handle things that only it could handle. Such as, for example, fighting Grimm.
And with that logic, I looked at the burn ointment with a bit of discomfort. It wasn't just supposed to help with the pain and itching, though that was an issue, but it was also supposed to help in preventing the wound from getting infected. Of course, applying the ointment was not an experience that I was looking forward to.
Struggling slightly with the top, eventually simply using my slightly recharged aura to rip the lid off of the bottle entirely, I placed a finger in the cool ointment and spread it across the uneven, burnt skin.
I frowned at my own actions as I hissed from the pain. Truly? After everything I went through, wincing at that? I placed the finger back into the ointment, trying to ignore the dark red flakes that were now mixing into the white ointment, and applied it again.
Every time I grimaced or winced from the pain, trying to rub the ointment in, my irritation grew. I was more composed than this, I knew. I should be able to just- ignore this.
I heard a sharp crack of gunfire, and I glanced up, noticing the Slayer standing near me, gun raised to the distance, and following the angle of the gun, I saw a Beowolf, quite dead, already beginning to fade away.
I took a deep breath, and tried to calm myself down. I didn't know how much ammo my ally had, and on this side of the portal, wallowing in negative emotions was dangerous for reasons beyond simple distraction.
I stood up, with only the briefest moment of awkwardness as I tried to support myself with an arm that wasn't there, something I'd… need to be careful about, for now. Truthfully, the best sort of aura recovery I could think of was to do something that could focus my thoughts.
Pressing my hand to my ear, I triggered my radio. "Specialist Schnee to any Atlas personnel capable of receiving this message, please respond, over." I waited for several seconds, and nothing happened. "Specialist Schnee to any and all Atlas personnel capable of receiving this message, I am currently at the Echo-Echo research facility. If you can respond, do so. Over." Absolute silence came from my radio. "Specialist Schnee out," I said, more to keep to form than any expectation that someone could hear me.
I glanced to the main facility, and took note of the fact that the radio tower had been destroyed. Without that signal booster, I might be able to receive a signal, but sending one to the nearest facility was out of the question, with my personal radio.
Repairing the antenna… I knew something of field repairs for equipment, but considering that the base was a half-slagged wreck, that wasn't an option for me, even assuming my technical skills would have been up for the task.
And- staying here wasn't much of an option, either. I wasn't quite certain as to how many Grimm had been wiped out before left, but no matter how many we or the demons had purged, Grimm- well, they tended to be fairly aggressive about claiming areas that had been the site of a large number of deaths.
And, I thought as I took a deep breath and looked at the area around me, there had been quite a few deaths already.
I glanced to my ally, who had crouched near a particular bit of debris. It looked like a shard of the portal gate. He lifted it up to his face, turning it over in his hands, almost curious, before his helmet shifted back towards the building.
The small shard crumbled in his hands as he clenched, crushing the artifact.
He, well, I suppose after losing his own people, however much he did lose, seeing other people lost in the same way, for the same reasons, would be- infuriating.
Or- I thought as he looked back to the building, to where the portal had been, was he actually, was he angry about being stranded on this side?
He'd been planning on simply killing demons until he died, no matter how long that would actually take. And yet, he'd put that aside to make sure that I survived going through the portal. I felt a brief surge of quickly repressed guilt.
I absolutely refused to feel guilty for saving a man from his attempt at an overly elaborate attempt at suicide. I could walk away from all this confident that I had saved at least one life. That I could take some comfort in, no matter how many were lost behind the portal, or at the base, or were still possessed on the far side of the portal, or-
I slammed my hand behind me, leaving a faint series of cracks on the already broken concrete wall.
Focus.
Neither of our lives were saved quite yet.
I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out my compass. I'd had a chance to look at a map, before the expedition departed, and the nearest supply cache that was in the approximate direction of the nearest base wasn't too far off, nine miles or so. These were built for Huntsmen and Specialists, mostly, buildings that might escape the Grimm's notice and could keep with minimal maintenance. If that one was intact, I might be able to get a message to Atlas asking for a Bullhead.
I shook my head. It was- it was a vague plan. Truthfully, I didn't even know if reinforcements were already on their way, Helmer might have sabotaged the larger radio before he allowed the Hell Wave to break through. I didn't know what the demons had planned, but an Atlesian cruiser's energy cannons might have been able to break through and shut down the portal before the demons could properly begin their invasion of the world.
Perhaps the man beside me might know more of what they had planned, his people seemed to have a great deal more experience with the demons, while we were still scrounging in the dark.
It didn't matter too much, I supposed, unless the demons had some other way of reaching Remnant, but I admit, after everything that had happened, leaving such mysteries forever unsolved was, unsatisfying, in a way, though as long as that portal was never opened again, I would be willing to remain in ignorance.
For now, survival.
"Slayer." I said, for want of any other thing I could refer to him as, though I didn't even know if that was a name, a personal title, or an odd translation of his rank in whatever position he held.
He turned to me, and I pointed in the direction of the supply cache.
"If we want to return to safety, we'll need to go in that direction." I said. Truthfully, I wasn't sure if it was rude or not to speak when I knew that he didn't understand the language, but not saying a word felt awkward to me, at this point.
I left the ruined base behind me, and he followed, something I was faintly relieved by, though I'm not sure what else he might have done.
——
Walking to the supply cache was not a comfortable experience.
In addition to the uneven ground, the cold seeping into the bandages I'd placed on my arm, and the assorted bumps and bruises I'd earned while fighting, I had been covered in dirt, grime, and blood. I could normally rely on my aura to clear such, but it had already had a chance to seep in. I looked far beneath the level of dignity that I normally tried to maintain. And not looking or feeling like yourself slowed down the healing of aura, as the aesthetic expression of the soul was marred, which meant I was recovering more slowly than I might have otherwise.
Also, it was uncomfortable and it itched.
Another gunshot heralded the death of a Beowolf, and brought me to the next bit of annoyance.
I was in an awful mood, I could admit that to myself, but the Grimm were being remarkably aggressive on our march, not even bothering to gather enough numbers that we'd have difficulties in dealing with them.
And while my mood was foul, it wasn't quite enough to justify this level of aggression.
I stopped in my step, and turned to the Slayer, wondering how exactly I would communicate the idea that he needed to calm down.
I pointed at him.
You.
I pointed towards the vanishing Grimm.
Grimm.
I pointed back to him, and frowned, making an exaggerated scowl as I pulled my lips further downwards with my fingers, the expression having just a tinge of sincerity to it as I felt like an absolute idiot.
Angry.
I pointed to the Grimm.
You angry. Grimm.
I briefly paused, in a manner that hopefully seemed like entering a second thought to him.
I pointed to him, and then I made an exaggerated smile that likely would have terrified any man away from me in any bar in all of Remnant, using my fingers to prop up my smile further.
I then pointed to the Grimm, then made a cutting off gesture, shaking my head at the same time.
You happy. No Grimm.
He watched, and though it was hard to tell with his armor, he seemed thoughtful, carefully considering what I said.
And then, I glanced to his side, where he was clenching his fist even harder, and his stance shifted to that of someone actively preparing for a fight.
He knew exactly what I had been trying to say.
Was he- was he making himself angrier on purpose?
Another Beowolf charged out of the woods, and I pushed a bit too much of my remaining aura to rush over and skewer the thing before the Slayer could even think to shoot at it, and then I walked back to the soldier, pointing to where I was fairly certain his nose lurked behind that faceplate. "No. Stop it. No. Bad."
He switched to his shotgun with the underslung grenade launcher, and I didn't even bother turning as he aimed it above my shoulder, launching a grenade and killing what sounded like another Beowolf behind me. "Happy." I said, and put on my best deranged mockery of a smile again.
"There's plenty of Grimm to fight later."
He just shook his head, and moved around me to keep walking, his steps seeming a bit lighter.
I shook my head in irritation and followed after him, and it was some time until we saw more Grimm.
——
Eventually, I noticed him stop, his helmet turning. I turned to look in that direction, and saw a deer, which had been eating some grass, but was now standing utterly still, watching the two of us. I watched both of them, for a moment, the man next to me seeming utterly frozen.
Truthfully, we'd been traveling for a few hours now, and I was getting quite tired of my terribly healthy travel rations. "Hungry?" I asked, lifting my shotgun, trying to aim with one arm, and he simply reached out his hand and lowered my gun.
He- what? What was he so interested in?
We stood there, watching the deer for a moment, before it finally decided to leap up and flee in great, bounding leaps.
As I was about to find some way to ask him what the H- what that was about, I heard him give a slight, shuddering breath, before looking away, and continuing his walk.
What was so compelling about a deer?
For the first time, I wondered, exactly how long he had been in Hell, fighting?
With a Semblance such as the one he had, with the level of violence and hatred he had, with a soul whose nature called to continuous acts of brutality, to the point that he might not even experience the mental weariness that most people experienced in a fight, he might have been out there, fighting, for, what? Weeks? Months?
Years, perhaps?
Or, the odd thought came to mind, remembering that one picture that I had taken, the one that started all of this, had he been out there for even longer?
Just how long had it been since he'd seen an animal, or a forest? Or since he had had a chance to relax and not fear the attacks of demons?
I shook my head.
I- couldn't know how a person might cope with that, but Atlas did have a number of military therapists who might be able to help him with whatever issues he might have. Hopefully they could.
It was- still a better fate than the one he had seemed to be aiming for, and hopefully, with enough time and support, he could have a better life than, what, killing demons in perpetuity?
If his soul called for violence, well, there would always be Grimm, but- he wouldn't need to do that alone, he could have others available to watch his back.. Some sort of place he could return to to rest; while I could likely arrange for military or perhaps diplomatic quarters, but I imagined that he'd likely do better if his housing arrangements didn't leave him feeling crowded, but if had been fighting for so long, a place where he could isolate himself completely might also be unhealthy…
My thoughts trailed off.
Something to consider, but trying to plan out his future seemed like the sort of thing that I should do with a bit more food, sleep, blood, and, possibly, the ability to actually hold a conversation with him.
———
A relatively short time later, we came across the outpost, or what was left of it.
Right by the semi-camouflaged bunker was an Atlesian trooper, his face, what was left of it, locked in an expression of pain and terror. My skewering of the Beowolf that had just exited the building, blood still staining its bone mask, was almost an afterthought as I observed the body of the soldier.
There were a few other dead humans scattered around the area, now that I cared to look. "Scattered" was quite the appropriate word.
Glancing back to the forest, I could see a trail with several sets of tracks, not too far off from where our own tracks exited the forest. We'd apparently had the unfortunate luck to not cross the other path.
The bodies were recently dead, judging by the faint hint of- steam, from the openings. I shook my head, forcing my gaze away from the corpse.
There were- regulations, about retreating in the military. If you tried to flee a battle, your fear and stress would allow the Grimm to easily chase you down, or for Grimm along the path to converge on your location.
There were always horror stories about some lone soldier fleeing from a fight, making a miraculous run to a nearby village, and for the village to be promptly wiped out by the train of Grimm attracted by that fear. Training would dictate that soldiers were typically safer standing strong, regardless of the odds, unless safe paths of retreat had already been prepared. Grimm excelled at hunting down lone, scared people.
However, under the stress of being attacked from all sides, treachery from within, and fellows being twisted by hellish energies, I had some difficulty blaming them for breaking discipline. I suppose it helped that there were no villages nearby for them to inadvertently damn.
Another snarling Beowolf came out of the bunker, and the Slayer handled that one, grabbing its head before it could respond properly and slamming it into the concrete wall of the bunker, dragging it through the wall until its skull finally cracked and the thing began to dissipate.
That was a similar level of brutality as he had shown when fighting the demons.
I suppose- as perverse a thought as it was- that that was a good sign for his mental health, that seeing more people being butchered would prompt rage rather than apathy, that his hate did seem to be borne from empathy.
I entered the bunker, stepping over a puddle of what was mostly blood, and looked within. The Grimm hadn't had long with the door open, and the Grimm had seemingly focused on wrecking a gun rack instead of any more delicate electronics.
And in the back, nestled quite safely, was the radio, and it appeared to be undamaged. I approached the radio, noting the Slayer behind me picking up one of the stored guns and turning it about in his hands, testing its grip. I- had absolutely no idea how much ammo he might have had left, so I suppose it made sense that he might be looking for a replacement.
I turned the system on, and I typed out my credentials and the instructions I needed to give the transmitter, a process that I actually needed to think about, as I normally worked on muscle memory with a limb that I no longer had, but before long, the device was activated and the transmitter aimed towards the city of Atlas, and more specifically, transmitting to one of the command centers.
"This is Specialist Winter Schnee. Requesting deployment of a Bullhead transport to-" I glanced at the sign above the transmitter, "Hunter Stash 21R8."
"Specialist Schnee," a voice said, with slight hesitation as though they weren't entirely certain as to how to address me, "Records have you at the," he paused, and I could hear the typing of keys on the other end. "Echo Echo facility. Radio communications have been cut off with said facility. Can you relay the status of said facility?"
I scowled at the casual dismissal of my request, but I supposed that I hadn't implied any urgency, yet. "The facility has been wiped out-" for the briefest of moments I paused, before continuing, "by Grimm, with no survivors at the base itself."
There was a brief moment where he said nothing, and I could hear a furious typing of keys, presumably as he tried to request that I get transferred to someone with a higher clearance level who might know more about what the loss of such a facility might mean.
"Describe what happened," he said.
I inhaled deeply, ignoring the stinging in my side, "I will not. That information will be relayed in person to the relevant authorities. It will not be communicated over an insecure line." How would these events be classified was something I couldn't even begin to guess.
"We had a Bullhead rigged with a relay dispatched to the base once communications were cut off. You should be able to use it to transmit the information on more secure channels."
"Excellent, you'll send the Bullhead to our location so that we may return to base to deliver my report in person."
There was a brief moment of silence. I made a mental note to have the track down the man's name so that I could speak to his superiors. I could understand some hesitation, some uncertainty, considering the loss of an entire, fairly large facility with nearly all hands, and that he likely hadn't ever needed to handle a situation as drastic as this that was also under tight information control, but at this moment, he was being quite frustrating and I would truly appreciate it if he would simply shut up and follow orders.
"Yes ma'am!" He said, slightly panicked, and I briefly ran over the last few moments in my head, trying to guess just how much of that I had actually said out loud. Well, I doubted that I had said anything that I would sincerely regret saying.
I- needed to report the situation, but, sleep was also a high priority.
"Bullhead rerouted, ETA, thirty minutes."
Ah. That was, better than I had feared.
"Note that the Bullhead is heavily loaded with communications equipment. It may not be able to fit all survivors at your location. Additional Bullheads can be dispatched for anyone left behind."
I slouched back into my chair, that once-comfortable indulgence feeling awkward and uncomfortable with most of an arm missing.
"Does the Bullhead have enough space to transport two people?" I asked.
There was a moment of hesitation on the other line as the man processed that question and just what it likely meant. "No further survivors?" He asked.
This time, I was the one who hesitated as I glanced at one of the bloodstains closest to myself. No other Hunstman level combatants, after this amount of time, in this cold, in an area where the Grimm had been riled up? "None." I said with a confidence I couldn't help but wish I didn't actually feel.
"Shit." He said, breaking radio discipline, but that one, that one I could have some sympathy for.
"I'll be awaiting pickup." I cut off the call. My action also broke radio discipline, but I found I couldn't truly motivate myself to care, as I leaned back into the chair.
The Slayer approached, and he looked at me and the machinery. I had to wonder what he was thinking, but- I couldn't really think of, anything, really. My body might have finally run out of second winds once I knew for a fact that transport out of here was on its way.
The Slayer was looking at the machinery, and he pried open one of of the panels. And underneath it was a small sphere of Argent energy. I suppose they might have experimented with retrofitting the old generators with Argent, to test its viability for long term power.
The Slayer reached down and yanked it out of the mechanism. I opened my mouth to object, but I supposed that if his suit could absorb that energy, well, he could likely use a pick-me-up as well.
If my body was winding down from having nothing to do, I imagined that he likely had it far, far worse.
He crushed the device in his hands, but it didn't seem to trigger his berserker state, this time. And when he reached down to begin smashing the mechanism it was attached to, that was an entirely natural rage.
Perhaps I was projecting, but it seemed- obvious, what he was angry about, even to my mind. We had, in a similar fashion to his own people in all likelihood, chosen to attempt to harness the power of Hell.
And the price of that was all too apparent, now.
I wondered if I would have a court martial, considering my advocacy for the continuation of the project, and the sheer number of deaths that had occurred and what might have happened to Remnant. It was- difficult to care, at the moment.
It had seemed so- terribly logical, to take that risk, even if I would have never accepted the leap that Helmer took.
Those thoughts would normally have prevented me from falling asleep, and if not those thoughts than perhaps the violence against inanimate objects, but the next time I opened my eyes, I could hear a Bullhead landing nearby.
I stood up, not feeling particularly refreshed, and the green armored man followed me out of the bunker. I suspect he wanted to make sure that they knew one of their own officials was welcoming the transport, rather than some well-armored stranger.
"Specialist Schnee," a man exited the vehicle and walked over to the two of us with a quick salute, "I'm here to ferry you baaaaaaa-" his voice trailed off as he looked me up and down, and with what I dare say was a heroic act of will, I raised my eyebrow at him, an eyebrow that I distantly hoped was still intact. I normally would have crossed my arms beneath my back, but- that wasn't quite an option at the moment, and so I left my arm hanging somewhat awkwardly behind me.
He muttered something that sounded like "Holy shit", before shaking himself clear. I knew that I was hardly giving off the most dignified of impressions, but he could at least maintain his composure in my presence.
"I- wasn't informed that anyone would need medical assistance."
I looked him in the eye, or rather the faceplate where his eyes would be, "I don't."
His head moved with his unseen eyes as they went down before they come back up. "I-"
"I will survive long enough to give my report, and I will speak to the doctors after the report is delivered."
He just shook his head, "Uh, right, yeah, um, yes ma'am. You and-" he paused, "the two of you are welcome to board. Freaking Specialists, I swear." The last part was muttered.
He returned to the cockpit at a pace just below jogging.
I approached the back of the transport, and glanced behind me.
Despite his rage, his fury, all the horrors he had faced without hesitation, here, he hesitated, on the steps of the Bullhead.
It took me a brief moment to understand.
Before, when he had been traveling with me, he could likely think of it as simply escorting me, or working with me.
Boarding a transport, coming with me to Atlas, that was a step with a certain, finality to it, I could imagine. That he would return to the civilization, to see people walking around in safety, to possibly be safe himself for a time.
Considering that he had been entirely resigned to fighting until he died, I imagine that to step into the airship would be a fairly difficult thing for him to do.
On a whim, I reached down and offered my hand to him, my eyes darting downwards to the ramp, as if he had been hesitating due to the ramp being a bit too steep for him.
I could hear an exhalation of breath that wasn't quite a snort behind that faceplate, and he gingerly took my hand and made his way onto the ship, the ramp closing behind us. I sat down in a chair across from him, and we stared at each other. This- would be a rather long trip, I imagined.
I needed to think through my report, though I didn't want to even try typing it out on my scroll one handed right now, I suspected that the frustration I'd feel would summon every Grimm within a fifty mile radius. Weiss would be- quite upset, I imagined, even if she would hide it. I suspected that she had trouble believing I could be hurt, at times, and I was vaguely tempted to go through whatever surgeries were necessary before telling her about what had happened, just to make sure that she wouldn't need to spend too long worrying. That thought was dismissed soon enough, though, as even assuming that someone wouldn't break the news to her before that, she did deserve to know. And even more than that, considering the way she looked up to me, perhaps this reminder that I was as mortal as anyone else would be healthy for her as she entered Beacon Academy.
I'd need to figure out how to deal with the Slayer, but even if I did end up court marshaled, I imagined, I knew Ironwood could be trusted to make arrangements for the foreign soldier, and he'd be in good hands. I wondered if Ironwood would have suggestions for prosthetic limbs. It would give us something new to talk about, I supposed.
And, of course, I had a eulogy to write, and though I had no idea as to how much of the story's details would be classified, I'm sure I could still include some fitting tribute to Helmer's legacy.
I had a lot to do, but for now, for now, I would sleep, and leave those problems for after I woke up.
AN:
And... that is it for the main story of Quite Doomed.
I'm glad you've all seemed to enjoy it.
Some comments I haven't responded to yet because they involve some thoughts on the epilogue/potential sequel, but I have a follow up post I'll be putting up today with a few of those details.
Rest assured, I've enjoyed the discussion that I've seen.
There were no demons in the ruins, and my ears brought my attention to why, exactly, the demons weren't defiling the corpses or whatever they did when they achieved their goals.
There was a battle taking place behind us.
The Grimm had broken through the defensive lines, and were fighting the demons.
Beowolves were obliterated under waves of plasma from the laughing mouths of cacodemons, Imps hurled their flames at Creeps that were swarming Hell Knights, who were quite capable of handling a few at once, but here the Grimm had arrived in the hundreds.
One of the giant Nevermore had been brought down, and five mancubi had surrounded it, covering it with flame.
A Baron of Hell brawled with several Beringel, these ones much younger than the one I had summoned, and this fight seemed much more even.
Pinkies would simply charge through the Grimmm ranks, throwing aside lesser Grimm, only to for their momentum to be slowed down just enough to be attacked from behind, as they were raked to death by Grimm claws.
I suspected the battle had been far more even before we had shut down the portal, but for now, it seemed that the Grimm had enough numbers to overwhelm the demons, even if it looked to be a close fight.
The question of why or how so many Grimm that weren't native to the area had arrived could be asked later.
Good strategy would have myself and the Slayer wait out the battle, picking off the largest Grimm as the two sides whittled each other down, and hope that the survivors of this battle were few enough for us to finish off.
Before I could even begin to think of a way to communicate this thought, of course, he had immediately charged in, shoving a Hell Knight off of a Beowolf and shooting the Hell Knight in the face with his double barreled shotgun, obliterating the skull in a spray of viscera.
Before the Grimm could even begin to make its own response to its… rescue, the Slayer had moved on, with careful, calculated precision, meddling in every fight that it seemed the demons had started to push back the tides of Grimm. Rockets were sent at the knees of Barons, distracting them just long enough for a half dozen Beowolves to climb on top of its and begin biting and scratching with their terrible fervor. Cacodemons blasted apart with salvos of miniature rockets coming from his assault rifle, weakening long enough for a small collection of Lancers, their wasp like forms darting about the battlefield, to close in and sting the eyes. Truthfully, I wished I could record this. I was too exhausted to truly appreciate the view of either demons killing Grimm or Grimm killing demons, and I suspected that I would have found a quiet satisfaction in watching the videos once I was safe and well rested.
I stood there, staring, a combination of exhaustion and surprise keeping myself from trying to respond to his actions. I glanced to my side, where that first, rescued beowolf was standing in what seemed to be confusion, as if it couldn't quite understand the situation it had found itself in.
We experienced that brief moment of shared empathy and mutual confusion, before it snarled and I stabbed it in the eye. I'd likely been projecting anyway.
I looked about the battlefield, looking to see more Grimm I might be able to handle in my current state. Our odds of survival weren't terribly great, I had to say. I could have just laid down, but in all honesty I had already tried to resign myself to a quiet, dignified death at least twice today, and was growing quite tired of doing so.
So far, I suspected that taking a few moments for recovery would be the most useful.
The Nevermore quite thoroughly dead, the Mancubi sent waves of rockets against the encroaching waves of black fur and white bone, dozens of beowolves dying in the rush. The Baron of Hell simply grabbed two of the Beringel that it had been fighting, grasping their skulls and igniting its arms in green flames even as the third had climbed on its back and begun strangling it. The gorilla-like Grimm in the things' grasp were killed, their bone masks melting in the thing's grasp, but with a sudden twist, the Baron's neck was twisted to an unnatural angle, and the surviving Beringel roared in satisfaction.
The Mancubi held their formation, flamethrowers and rockets blasting at once, wave after wave of Grimm obliterated in what almost seemed a perverse mockery of a noble last stand, but eventually, the Lancers, having cleared the skies of flying demons, sneaked behind the grotesque things and skewered them, piercing at cables and mechanical pieces, seemingly uncaring as the cables leaked fuel that ignited on contact with the air, burning the demons and themselves alike.
And then, with a single Imp ripped in half by two Beowolves, the fight seemed over, for a moment. The Slayer stood in a circle of snarling Grimm, before the dumb bastard actually lowered his weapon, dismissing it from his hands in a slight flash of light. Was he? Before that moment, it had never truly occurred to me that he might not actually have ever seen a Grimm before, whatever land he had come from, and the only Grimm he had ever seen being the ones I had summoned. He might not even know what they were. So of course the insane berserker would attempt diplomacy with the damned things.
That slight moment of seeming vulnerability was all the opening they needed for the temporary truce to end and the Grimm to attack, the first Grimm to charge being another Beowolf. I couldn't tell if he simply had excellent reflexes, if he had been anticipating treachery, or if his constant state of battle meaning that even when attempting to be diplomatic his mind was still caught in full battle readiness, but with a seeming utter lack of surprise, he stepped to the side and under the Beowolf's attack, and struck the chest of the thing with a crushing blow.
It wasn't dead, merely stunned, and so he moved behind the thing, and without even looking back, his hand summoned his pistol, and shot the thing in the back several times, and that was when the rest of the Grimm attacked.
And the brutality he had enacted on the demons was then forced upon the Grimm.
They tried surrounding him, simply mobbing him and forcing him still by pressuring him, but he jumped above the swarm around him, tossing a few grenades where he previously stood and blasting apart a crowd too tightly packed to avoid it.
The Slayer reached the edge of the formation and brought out his triple-minigun weapon and began shredding through their ranks, shadow-stuff blasting from the Grimm bodies as they were ripped apart.
The surviving Lancers arrived, moving to the soldier's blindspot, and he turned to face them, switching to his missile launcher, and took a moment to aim at three of the Lancers before firing off a salvo of missiles that easily tracked their motions in the air despite their attempts to dodge, shattering their bodies in the air and sending what parts of them were intact crashing to the ground, and then fired two more at the remaining Lancers, disposing of them just as swiftly. Quick and efficient though it was, it was still slow enough for the Beowolves to catch up to him, one leaping onto his back even as he tried to turn around, seemingly more intent on weighing him down than trying to claw through his aura or his armor as it tried to straddle his form.
He summoned his double barreled shotgun again, blasting it off and and just barely leaping backwards in time to dodge a second Beowolf, and I turned my gaze. As much as I wanted to charge in and fight by his side, I had had no where near enough time to recover, I couldn't summon, I was nearly out of dust to empower the summons anyway, but there was something-
I glanced through the flaming ruins, and saw one of the large plasma turrets, pieces of it strewn about, and far too damaged for me to repair. Still, I had an idea for something that I could do, and something that I could admit I sincerely wanted to see.
I ran to it, breathing far more heavily than I should have been at this level of speed, not even using runes to augment my pace, not quite feeling able to afford that level of aura usage as I ran across the blasted ground, awkwardly leaping over the occasional piece of debris or dead body.
It didn't take too long for me to reach one of the turrets and awkwardly pry one of the bottom panels open using my sword, and I felt a brief bit of relief. As I had expected, where most of this model of gun would normally keep its dust stores, this one had a single, glowing Argent sphere with a number of wires almost awkwardly attached to it. It was a proof of concept, I supposed, just a bastardization of an existing Dust design modified to use Argent instead, but it still offended me.
…
Not just for the lack of tidiness, but for the fact that I wasn't entirely certain as to how to unplug the thing without causing it to explode, especially since part of the machinery it was attached to was currently on fire.
I frowned as I looked at the cables, and made my best guess, slicing quickly and efficiently with my sword and carefully not imagining what might happen if my guess was wrong. Quite fortunately, other than one shower of sparks, one that burned slightly burned when it landed on my skin, but that level of pain only earned a quick grimace.
The small sphere was quite capable of providing for a small town's energy needs for two months, by my memory.
I yanked the device out of its recess and shoved it clumsily into a pocket.
I stood up and moved away from the turret, and glanced towards the ground, where the soldier operating the gun had fallen. While it made me feel a vulture, I reached down and grabbed the shotgun, still held in bloody hands, of the young woman, trying to avoid looking past the shattered faceplate and into the wide eyes, yanking it out of the grip of the soldier. Popping open the gun, I glanced into the the magazine. Still full, she hadn't had a chance to defend herself after the Grimm or demons had reached her position.
Which was unfortunately convenient for me, as I took the weapon into my hands, along with a couple of spare magazines, and began running back to the Slayer.
If I didn't have the aura to fight using my swords, well, a gun should at least prevent me from being entirely useless.
When I returned, the Slayer was pinned below body of an Ursa, the massive bearlike thing holding the Slayer with one claw and supporting itself with the other, the Slayer using both hands to prevent the Ursa's jaws from reaching his body.
I switched my gun to one hand, and hurled the multi-million lien device along the ground like a bowling ball, and it bounced several times until it rolled to a stop, tapping the side of the soldier's helmet.
For the briefest of moments I stood there watching, not quite sure what to do, before I raised my shotgun to my shoulder, aimed very, very carefully, and blasted the incredibly powerful device that was mere inches from the soldier's head, shattering the glass-like container in an explosion of red energy.
The Ursa almost seemed dazed for a moment, as the red energy flowed into it, but far more relevant was the reaction of the Slayer as red energy flowed into his body, sparking like lightning across his arms and body. Instead of attempting to push the Ursa, he shifted his hands and began to squeeze, and even from where I was standing the crunching noise was audible as the skull shattered around the Grimm's face and its face collapsed inwards.
He grabbed the shattered form and tossed it off of himself, and rushed the Grimm. And I had a fine chance to watch as he demonstrated the exact sort of brutality that he had against the demons as he fought against the Grimm.
Or, rather, not quite the same. There was little of the visceral hatred he seemed to feel against the demons. There was certainly aggression, I could see that from the way that he ripped apart the Grimm and tore a particularly unlucky Creep in half. There was no moment of relish, or allowing the Grimm to comprehend exactly what was happening to it.
The last surviving Lancer tried to sneak behind him, but he grabbed it by the stinger, and stabbed it into the nearest Beowolf, before giving the impaled Lancer a brutal punch, crushing the chitin-like bone of flying Grimm and obliterating the face of the creature, killing it before moving onto the next collection of suddenly hapless Grimm.
Unfortunately, while that was a fine show, I was soon distracted from paying my full attention to it.
Even above the clamor around the Slayer, I could hear a scratching on the ground behind me. Turning my head, I saw an Ursa, an old beast, much of its body covered in bone, this one carrying itself and walking more like how an actual bear might.
A junior Hunstman still at the academy might have difficulty with facing such a foe. A specialist, theoretically, should find it a mild nuisance, if it was unsupported.
In my current state, well, I wasn't going to die here.
I aimed my shotgun at the beast and fired without ceremony, a few pellets grazing the thing's shoulder with sparks of electricity even as it charged against me.
I rolled to the side, scowling at my lack of accuracy. It had been over a year since I had last used a gun, and apparently I was rusty, though that might be attributed to tiredness.
I fired another shot at the thing as it raced by me, most of the pellets sparking on the snow beneath the thing. When dealing with well armored Grimm, one could either use precision to target the unarmored parts, or sheer brute force (in my case, my larger summons) to simply smash through. And neither seemed to be an option for me at the moment.
It managed to arrest its momentum faster than I would have expected for a blind charge (that had been a feint, obviously) for it to bat back at me with its claw, and I barely leapt backwards fast enough to avoid it, landing slightly awkwardly, leaving it enough time to reorient for another attack even as I adjusted my feet.
It snarled and widened its mouth, ready to bite at me and while I managed to cock the shotgun, I didn't have the time to actually dodge.
I didn't think I'd be able to hurt it enough even if I used my sword and struck at one of its unarmored spots, as getting the sword deep enough to wound the thing would leave me vulnerable to a counterattack, and at this point such could likely kill me.
Of course, failing to shoot anything vulnerable while I slowly exhausted myself was also a terrible plan, but-
I reached into one of my pouches, and pulled out one of the dust magazines I'd picked up. Perhaps…
This time when it made a low, lunging charge I leapt above it, rolling along the top of the raging thing, the hard bone hurting more than I had expected, sharp jutting bone stabbing into my back in ways that likely would leave a bruise once this was all over.
Of course, as an elder Grimm, it had the raw experience to not be confused by little trick. Even as I rolled over it, it slammed its front paws into the broken snow, forcefully halting its momentum, and instead of quickly turning around, it simply twisted enough for it to kick out with its foot, striking me- quite firmly in chest, and I gave out a gasp of breath as I was knocked further back than I had anticipated.
I rolled along the ground, bumping across rocks, branches, and the odd corpse as the thing turned around at a leisurely pace. Ah, yes, now was the point where it would fight at a more slower pace, letting my fear and pain summon even more Grimm.
I sneered, as I slowly forced myself to stand, gun and magazine still in hand. As far as negative emotions went, I wouldn't give it my fear. Anger, though, anger I could give in abundance.
With one hand, I aimed the shotgun at the thing and fired, which prompted another bounding charge. Its kick had given me enough distance that I could grip the pump with the two fingers that weren't holding the magazine and pull it back as it got closer.
It roared as it neared, and I threw the magazine to the open, roaring mouth, just as according to plan. And the thing simply turned its head ever so slightly and ignored my improvised projectile. I could barely stumble out of the way of that attack, though fortunately, this one hadn't been a feint and it took several seconds of sliding across the ground to reorient itself, time I took to fumble with my pouches and pull out the second magazine. Fire dust.
The thing charged, and I grimaced as I aimed my shotgun at the Grimm, still one handed, and my aim wavered as it charged, the effort of holding up a gun like this one handed almost too much in the state I was in. The thing charged, and I stumbled back, holding my other hand out in front as it moved to bite, and its jaws moved past my hand, past my elbow, and just below my shoulder before the the thing bit, and shook, more like a dog or a wolf than like a bear, throwing my body back and forth, before there was a sickening crunch as my aura collapsed once more, and I was free, sending my body crashing against the dirt.
I could barely see as my vision was flashing, as I instinctively tried to control my roll with an arm that wasn't there, open wound slamming against the snow and sending me into further agony. I groaned with what little air was left in my lungs at that.
I could barely form a coherent thought as I rolled to a stop, vision blurring, but eventually, a single strain of thought managed to assemble itself within my mind.
Fuck.
That.
Bear.
I aimed my shotgun at where I could hear the damned thing's chewing, briefly experiencing a perverse sense of thankfulness for the blurring of my vision as I did not want to see what it was doing right now, and fired. Without aura fortifying my body, the recoil alone of firing a shotgun one-handed would have bruised me, even without jostling my wounds and blinding me again with pain.
And that shot was exceptionally lucky, I could admit. It blasted into the open mouth of Grimm, the pellets shot and ricocheted inside the opened mouth of the Grimm, shredding what remained of my arm even further, and struck what I had been holding in my hand when the arm had been lost.
A full magazine of fire dust.
Old and powerful as the Grimm might have been, it couldn't survive the explosion coming from within its body, though it managed to make two, hesitant steps, before collapsing and dying.
Ha.
Even through the pain, I could appreciate the thing's death. I gave a grim smile, and even that hurt.
My vision blacked out.
I couldn't- I couldn't perceive the passing of time, but somehow, between blinks, the pain had very slightly dimmed, the blurring had been reduced, and the battlefield had gone silent, save for the slow approach of heavy footsteps. I could see the figure, with his blue face mask, looking down at me, head shifting slightly to look at my arm- my stump- the arm was missing, I could feel it missing, I'd seen it-
I'd have shaken my head if that wouldn't have made the pain worse.
He stood there, staring, and I wondered what he was thinking, before he pulled out his plasma gun. My face turned angry, was he- I could- I would survive this, I didn't need-
He aimed to the side without bothering to look and held down the trigger, long streams of plasma balls blasting apart- something I didn't care enough to turn my head to see. After several continuous seconds of firing, he stopped, weapon steaming and hissing with the heat in the cold air, what was he- I glanced towards my bleeding arm.
Ah.
Despite everything, it took me a moment to react, to really think. It was- it was necessary, but it would be done at my request
I gave him a nod, and if that nod was shakier than I had intended, I doubted he would have judged me.
He reached down and grabbed a small branch and pressed it towards my face. Why- ah, I knew why, I thought as I bit down on it. To prevent me from shattering my teeth, or possibly biting my tongue off. I adjusted it in my mouth, some odd part of me distantly noting that it actually did taste better than my energy bars.
And then he lowered the hissing steaming gun to my side, and pressed it against the open wound.
Snow and blood steamed out, and the pain redoubled.
It was- absolute agony. I couldn't think, I couldn't truly judge whether it was more or less painful than the original wound had been, but I tried to keep my body still, to hissing gun steady as it did its work, but it- wasn't easy.
The broken-off branch in my mouth twitched, then shattered, bits of twig and splinters gathering in my mouth, and even I was only barely able to notice the unpleasant feel through the pain.
I am perfectly willing to pretend that I acted in an entirely dignified fashion in response to the pain.
At some point, the man returned, leaving me to wonder when he had left, and he was holding a medical kit. For a brief moment, I wondered how he had determined that it was in fact a medical kit, before he presented it to me, and I could see the broken latch and the various pills, syringes, and bandages within strewn about in total disarray. That was, presumably, universal for some sort of first aid kit.
I glanced at the various items, looking at the only item I was actively familiar with, the painkillers, and frowned. I… normally would have ignored the instructions on the bottle to only take two at a time and instead taken four, for the level of pain I was currently feeling, they tended to give dosages for people without a Specialist's constitution, but- I was missing an arm. Did that, do anything, regarding bodyweight when it came to medications? I honestly couldn't recall, though I had the irritating feeling that the subject had come up before, either in conversation with Ironwood or in training.
I compromised and took three, awkwardly popping off the lid with my remaining hand. These were- the only short term side effect should be feeling sick to my stomach if I got the dosage wrong. I could save the heavier painkillers for when I was outside of hostile territory and safely in a hospital bed.
I credited my immediately feeling somewhat better to the placebo effect, but it was enough for me to sit up. Among the other items in the medical kit was a supplement for helping a body to restore iron after severe blood loss, and I took that as well.
Aura would help, it already was helping, whatever aura had trickled back was soothing the burns on my- stump, but the less that my aura needed to handle, the more it could handle things that only it could handle. Such as, for example, fighting Grimm.
And with that logic, I looked at the burn ointment with a bit of discomfort. It wasn't just supposed to help with the pain and itching, though that was an issue, but it was also supposed to help in preventing the wound from getting infected. Of course, applying the ointment was not an experience that I was looking forward to.
Struggling slightly with the top, eventually simply using my slightly recharged aura to rip the lid off of the bottle entirely, I placed a finger in the cool ointment and spread it across the uneven, burnt skin.
I frowned at my own actions as I hissed from the pain. Truly? After everything I went through, wincing at that? I placed the finger back into the ointment, trying to ignore the dark red flakes that were now mixing into the white ointment, and applied it again.
Every time I grimaced or winced from the pain, trying to rub the ointment in, my irritation grew. I was more composed than this, I knew. I should be able to just- ignore this.
I heard a sharp crack of gunfire, and I glanced up, noticing the Slayer standing near me, gun raised to the distance, and following the angle of the gun, I saw a Beowolf, quite dead, already beginning to fade away.
I took a deep breath, and tried to calm myself down. I didn't know how much ammo my ally had, and on this side of the portal, wallowing in negative emotions was dangerous for reasons beyond simple distraction.
I stood up, with only the briefest moment of awkwardness as I tried to support myself with an arm that wasn't there, something I'd… need to be careful about, for now. Truthfully, the best sort of aura recovery I could think of was to do something that could focus my thoughts.
Pressing my hand to my ear, I triggered my radio. "Specialist Schnee to any Atlas personnel capable of receiving this message, please respond, over." I waited for several seconds, and nothing happened. "Specialist Schnee to any and all Atlas personnel capable of receiving this message, I am currently at the Echo-Echo research facility. If you can respond, do so. Over." Absolute silence came from my radio. "Specialist Schnee out," I said, more to keep to form than any expectation that someone could hear me.
I glanced to the main facility, and took note of the fact that the radio tower had been destroyed. Without that signal booster, I might be able to receive a signal, but sending one to the nearest facility was out of the question, with my personal radio.
Repairing the antenna… I knew something of field repairs for equipment, but considering that the base was a half-slagged wreck, that wasn't an option for me, even assuming my technical skills would have been up for the task.
And- staying here wasn't much of an option, either. I wasn't quite certain as to how many Grimm had been wiped out before left, but no matter how many we or the demons had purged, Grimm- well, they tended to be fairly aggressive about claiming areas that had been the site of a large number of deaths.
And, I thought as I took a deep breath and looked at the area around me, there had been quite a few deaths already.
I glanced to my ally, who had crouched near a particular bit of debris. It looked like a shard of the portal gate. He lifted it up to his face, turning it over in his hands, almost curious, before his helmet shifted back towards the building.
The small shard crumbled in his hands as he clenched, crushing the artifact.
He, well, I suppose after losing his own people, however much he did lose, seeing other people lost in the same way, for the same reasons, would be- infuriating.
Or- I thought as he looked back to the building, to where the portal had been, was he actually, was he angry about being stranded on this side?
He'd been planning on simply killing demons until he died, no matter how long that would actually take. And yet, he'd put that aside to make sure that I survived going through the portal. I felt a brief surge of quickly repressed guilt.
I absolutely refused to feel guilty for saving a man from his attempt at an overly elaborate attempt at suicide. I could walk away from all this confident that I had saved at least one life. That I could take some comfort in, no matter how many were lost behind the portal, or at the base, or were still possessed on the far side of the portal, or-
I slammed my hand behind me, leaving a faint series of cracks on the already broken concrete wall.
Focus.
Neither of our lives were saved quite yet.
I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out my compass. I'd had a chance to look at a map, before the expedition departed, and the nearest supply cache that was in the approximate direction of the nearest base wasn't too far off, nine miles or so. These were built for Huntsmen and Specialists, mostly, buildings that might escape the Grimm's notice and could keep with minimal maintenance. If that one was intact, I might be able to get a message to Atlas asking for a Bullhead.
I shook my head. It was- it was a vague plan. Truthfully, I didn't even know if reinforcements were already on their way, Helmer might have sabotaged the larger radio before he allowed the Hell Wave to break through. I didn't know what the demons had planned, but an Atlesian cruiser's energy cannons might have been able to break through and shut down the portal before the demons could properly begin their invasion of the world.
Perhaps the man beside me might know more of what they had planned, his people seemed to have a great deal more experience with the demons, while we were still scrounging in the dark.
It didn't matter too much, I supposed, unless the demons had some other way of reaching Remnant, but I admit, after everything that had happened, leaving such mysteries forever unsolved was, unsatisfying, in a way, though as long as that portal was never opened again, I would be willing to remain in ignorance.
For now, survival.
"Slayer." I said, for want of any other thing I could refer to him as, though I didn't even know if that was a name, a personal title, or an odd translation of his rank in whatever position he held.
He turned to me, and I pointed in the direction of the supply cache.
"If we want to return to safety, we'll need to go in that direction." I said. Truthfully, I wasn't sure if it was rude or not to speak when I knew that he didn't understand the language, but not saying a word felt awkward to me, at this point.
I left the ruined base behind me, and he followed, something I was faintly relieved by, though I'm not sure what else he might have done.
——
Walking to the supply cache was not a comfortable experience.
In addition to the uneven ground, the cold seeping into the bandages I'd placed on my arm, and the assorted bumps and bruises I'd earned while fighting, I had been covered in dirt, grime, and blood. I could normally rely on my aura to clear such, but it had already had a chance to seep in. I looked far beneath the level of dignity that I normally tried to maintain. And not looking or feeling like yourself slowed down the healing of aura, as the aesthetic expression of the soul was marred, which meant I was recovering more slowly than I might have otherwise.
Also, it was uncomfortable and it itched.
Another gunshot heralded the death of a Beowolf, and brought me to the next bit of annoyance.
I was in an awful mood, I could admit that to myself, but the Grimm were being remarkably aggressive on our march, not even bothering to gather enough numbers that we'd have difficulties in dealing with them.
And while my mood was foul, it wasn't quite enough to justify this level of aggression.
I stopped in my step, and turned to the Slayer, wondering how exactly I would communicate the idea that he needed to calm down.
I pointed at him.
You.
I pointed towards the vanishing Grimm.
Grimm.
I pointed back to him, and frowned, making an exaggerated scowl as I pulled my lips further downwards with my fingers, the expression having just a tinge of sincerity to it as I felt like an absolute idiot.
Angry.
I pointed to the Grimm.
You angry. Grimm.
I briefly paused, in a manner that hopefully seemed like entering a second thought to him.
I pointed to him, and then I made an exaggerated smile that likely would have terrified any man away from me in any bar in all of Remnant, using my fingers to prop up my smile further.
I then pointed to the Grimm, then made a cutting off gesture, shaking my head at the same time.
You happy. No Grimm.
He watched, and though it was hard to tell with his armor, he seemed thoughtful, carefully considering what I said.
And then, I glanced to his side, where he was clenching his fist even harder, and his stance shifted to that of someone actively preparing for a fight.
He knew exactly what I had been trying to say.
Was he- was he making himself angrier on purpose?
Another Beowolf charged out of the woods, and I pushed a bit too much of my remaining aura to rush over and skewer the thing before the Slayer could even think to shoot at it, and then I walked back to the soldier, pointing to where I was fairly certain his nose lurked behind that faceplate. "No. Stop it. No. Bad."
He switched to his shotgun with the underslung grenade launcher, and I didn't even bother turning as he aimed it above my shoulder, launching a grenade and killing what sounded like another Beowolf behind me. "Happy." I said, and put on my best deranged mockery of a smile again.
"There's plenty of Grimm to fight later."
He just shook his head, and moved around me to keep walking, his steps seeming a bit lighter.
I shook my head in irritation and followed after him, and it was some time until we saw more Grimm.
——
Eventually, I noticed him stop, his helmet turning. I turned to look in that direction, and saw a deer, which had been eating some grass, but was now standing utterly still, watching the two of us. I watched both of them, for a moment, the man next to me seeming utterly frozen.
Truthfully, we'd been traveling for a few hours now, and I was getting quite tired of my terribly healthy travel rations. "Hungry?" I asked, lifting my shotgun, trying to aim with one arm, and he simply reached out his hand and lowered my gun.
He- what? What was he so interested in?
We stood there, watching the deer for a moment, before it finally decided to leap up and flee in great, bounding leaps.
As I was about to find some way to ask him what the H- what that was about, I heard him give a slight, shuddering breath, before looking away, and continuing his walk.
What was so compelling about a deer?
For the first time, I wondered, exactly how long he had been in Hell, fighting?
With a Semblance such as the one he had, with the level of violence and hatred he had, with a soul whose nature called to continuous acts of brutality, to the point that he might not even experience the mental weariness that most people experienced in a fight, he might have been out there, fighting, for, what? Weeks? Months?
Years, perhaps?
Or, the odd thought came to mind, remembering that one picture that I had taken, the one that started all of this, had he been out there for even longer?
Just how long had it been since he'd seen an animal, or a forest? Or since he had had a chance to relax and not fear the attacks of demons?
I shook my head.
I- couldn't know how a person might cope with that, but Atlas did have a number of military therapists who might be able to help him with whatever issues he might have. Hopefully they could.
It was- still a better fate than the one he had seemed to be aiming for, and hopefully, with enough time and support, he could have a better life than, what, killing demons in perpetuity?
If his soul called for violence, well, there would always be Grimm, but- he wouldn't need to do that alone, he could have others available to watch his back.. Some sort of place he could return to to rest; while I could likely arrange for military or perhaps diplomatic quarters, but I imagined that he'd likely do better if his housing arrangements didn't leave him feeling crowded, but if had been fighting for so long, a place where he could isolate himself completely might also be unhealthy…
My thoughts trailed off.
Something to consider, but trying to plan out his future seemed like the sort of thing that I should do with a bit more food, sleep, blood, and, possibly, the ability to actually hold a conversation with him.
———
A relatively short time later, we came across the outpost, or what was left of it.
Right by the semi-camouflaged bunker was an Atlesian trooper, his face, what was left of it, locked in an expression of pain and terror. My skewering of the Beowolf that had just exited the building, blood still staining its bone mask, was almost an afterthought as I observed the body of the soldier.
There were a few other dead humans scattered around the area, now that I cared to look. "Scattered" was quite the appropriate word.
Glancing back to the forest, I could see a trail with several sets of tracks, not too far off from where our own tracks exited the forest. We'd apparently had the unfortunate luck to not cross the other path.
The bodies were recently dead, judging by the faint hint of- steam, from the openings. I shook my head, forcing my gaze away from the corpse.
There were- regulations, about retreating in the military. If you tried to flee a battle, your fear and stress would allow the Grimm to easily chase you down, or for Grimm along the path to converge on your location.
There were always horror stories about some lone soldier fleeing from a fight, making a miraculous run to a nearby village, and for the village to be promptly wiped out by the train of Grimm attracted by that fear. Training would dictate that soldiers were typically safer standing strong, regardless of the odds, unless safe paths of retreat had already been prepared. Grimm excelled at hunting down lone, scared people.
However, under the stress of being attacked from all sides, treachery from within, and fellows being twisted by hellish energies, I had some difficulty blaming them for breaking discipline. I suppose it helped that there were no villages nearby for them to inadvertently damn.
Another snarling Beowolf came out of the bunker, and the Slayer handled that one, grabbing its head before it could respond properly and slamming it into the concrete wall of the bunker, dragging it through the wall until its skull finally cracked and the thing began to dissipate.
That was a similar level of brutality as he had shown when fighting the demons.
I suppose- as perverse a thought as it was- that that was a good sign for his mental health, that seeing more people being butchered would prompt rage rather than apathy, that his hate did seem to be borne from empathy.
I entered the bunker, stepping over a puddle of what was mostly blood, and looked within. The Grimm hadn't had long with the door open, and the Grimm had seemingly focused on wrecking a gun rack instead of any more delicate electronics.
And in the back, nestled quite safely, was the radio, and it appeared to be undamaged. I approached the radio, noting the Slayer behind me picking up one of the stored guns and turning it about in his hands, testing its grip. I- had absolutely no idea how much ammo he might have had left, so I suppose it made sense that he might be looking for a replacement.
I turned the system on, and I typed out my credentials and the instructions I needed to give the transmitter, a process that I actually needed to think about, as I normally worked on muscle memory with a limb that I no longer had, but before long, the device was activated and the transmitter aimed towards the city of Atlas, and more specifically, transmitting to one of the command centers.
"This is Specialist Winter Schnee. Requesting deployment of a Bullhead transport to-" I glanced at the sign above the transmitter, "Hunter Stash 21R8."
"Specialist Schnee," a voice said, with slight hesitation as though they weren't entirely certain as to how to address me, "Records have you at the," he paused, and I could hear the typing of keys on the other end. "Echo Echo facility. Radio communications have been cut off with said facility. Can you relay the status of said facility?"
I scowled at the casual dismissal of my request, but I supposed that I hadn't implied any urgency, yet. "The facility has been wiped out-" for the briefest of moments I paused, before continuing, "by Grimm, with no survivors at the base itself."
There was a brief moment where he said nothing, and I could hear a furious typing of keys, presumably as he tried to request that I get transferred to someone with a higher clearance level who might know more about what the loss of such a facility might mean.
"Describe what happened," he said.
I inhaled deeply, ignoring the stinging in my side, "I will not. That information will be relayed in person to the relevant authorities. It will not be communicated over an insecure line." How would these events be classified was something I couldn't even begin to guess.
"We had a Bullhead rigged with a relay dispatched to the base once communications were cut off. You should be able to use it to transmit the information on more secure channels."
"Excellent, you'll send the Bullhead to our location so that we may return to base to deliver my report in person."
There was a brief moment of silence. I made a mental note to have the track down the man's name so that I could speak to his superiors. I could understand some hesitation, some uncertainty, considering the loss of an entire, fairly large facility with nearly all hands, and that he likely hadn't ever needed to handle a situation as drastic as this that was also under tight information control, but at this moment, he was being quite frustrating and I would truly appreciate it if he would simply shut up and follow orders.
"Yes ma'am!" He said, slightly panicked, and I briefly ran over the last few moments in my head, trying to guess just how much of that I had actually said out loud. Well, I doubted that I had said anything that I would sincerely regret saying.
I- needed to report the situation, but, sleep was also a high priority.
"Bullhead rerouted, ETA, thirty minutes."
Ah. That was, better than I had feared.
"Note that the Bullhead is heavily loaded with communications equipment. It may not be able to fit all survivors at your location. Additional Bullheads can be dispatched for anyone left behind."
I slouched back into my chair, that once-comfortable indulgence feeling awkward and uncomfortable with most of an arm missing.
"Does the Bullhead have enough space to transport two people?" I asked.
There was a moment of hesitation on the other line as the man processed that question and just what it likely meant. "No further survivors?" He asked.
This time, I was the one who hesitated as I glanced at one of the bloodstains closest to myself. No other Hunstman level combatants, after this amount of time, in this cold, in an area where the Grimm had been riled up? "None." I said with a confidence I couldn't help but wish I didn't actually feel.
"Shit." He said, breaking radio discipline, but that one, that one I could have some sympathy for.
"I'll be awaiting pickup." I cut off the call. My action also broke radio discipline, but I found I couldn't truly motivate myself to care, as I leaned back into the chair.
The Slayer approached, and he looked at me and the machinery. I had to wonder what he was thinking, but- I couldn't really think of, anything, really. My body might have finally run out of second winds once I knew for a fact that transport out of here was on its way.
The Slayer was looking at the machinery, and he pried open one of of the panels. And underneath it was a small sphere of Argent energy. I suppose they might have experimented with retrofitting the old generators with Argent, to test its viability for long term power.
The Slayer reached down and yanked it out of the mechanism. I opened my mouth to object, but I supposed that if his suit could absorb that energy, well, he could likely use a pick-me-up as well.
If my body was winding down from having nothing to do, I imagined that he likely had it far, far worse.
He crushed the device in his hands, but it didn't seem to trigger his berserker state, this time. And when he reached down to begin smashing the mechanism it was attached to, that was an entirely natural rage.
Perhaps I was projecting, but it seemed- obvious, what he was angry about, even to my mind. We had, in a similar fashion to his own people in all likelihood, chosen to attempt to harness the power of Hell.
And the price of that was all too apparent, now.
I wondered if I would have a court martial, considering my advocacy for the continuation of the project, and the sheer number of deaths that had occurred and what might have happened to Remnant. It was- difficult to care, at the moment.
It had seemed so- terribly logical, to take that risk, even if I would have never accepted the leap that Helmer took.
Those thoughts would normally have prevented me from falling asleep, and if not those thoughts than perhaps the violence against inanimate objects, but the next time I opened my eyes, I could hear a Bullhead landing nearby.
I stood up, not feeling particularly refreshed, and the green armored man followed me out of the bunker. I suspect he wanted to make sure that they knew one of their own officials was welcoming the transport, rather than some well-armored stranger.
"Specialist Schnee," a man exited the vehicle and walked over to the two of us with a quick salute, "I'm here to ferry you baaaaaaa-" his voice trailed off as he looked me up and down, and with what I dare say was a heroic act of will, I raised my eyebrow at him, an eyebrow that I distantly hoped was still intact. I normally would have crossed my arms beneath my back, but- that wasn't quite an option at the moment, and so I left my arm hanging somewhat awkwardly behind me.
He muttered something that sounded like "Holy shit", before shaking himself clear. I knew that I was hardly giving off the most dignified of impressions, but he could at least maintain his composure in my presence.
"I- wasn't informed that anyone would need medical assistance."
I looked him in the eye, or rather the faceplate where his eyes would be, "I don't."
His head moved with his unseen eyes as they went down before they come back up. "I-"
"I will survive long enough to give my report, and I will speak to the doctors after the report is delivered."
He just shook his head, "Uh, right, yeah, um, yes ma'am. You and-" he paused, "the two of you are welcome to board. Freaking Specialists, I swear." The last part was muttered.
He returned to the cockpit at a pace just below jogging.
I approached the back of the transport, and glanced behind me.
Despite his rage, his fury, all the horrors he had faced without hesitation, here, he hesitated, on the steps of the Bullhead.
It took me a brief moment to understand.
Before, when he had been traveling with me, he could likely think of it as simply escorting me, or working with me.
Boarding a transport, coming with me to Atlas, that was a step with a certain, finality to it, I could imagine. That he would return to the civilization, to see people walking around in safety, to possibly be safe himself for a time.
Considering that he had been entirely resigned to fighting until he died, I imagine that to step into the airship would be a fairly difficult thing for him to do.
On a whim, I reached down and offered my hand to him, my eyes darting downwards to the ramp, as if he had been hesitating due to the ramp being a bit too steep for him.
I could hear an exhalation of breath that wasn't quite a snort behind that faceplate, and he gingerly took my hand and made his way onto the ship, the ramp closing behind us. I sat down in a chair across from him, and we stared at each other. This- would be a rather long trip, I imagined.
I needed to think through my report, though I didn't want to even try typing it out on my scroll one handed right now, I suspected that the frustration I'd feel would summon every Grimm within a fifty mile radius. Weiss would be- quite upset, I imagined, even if she would hide it. I suspected that she had trouble believing I could be hurt, at times, and I was vaguely tempted to go through whatever surgeries were necessary before telling her about what had happened, just to make sure that she wouldn't need to spend too long worrying. That thought was dismissed soon enough, though, as even assuming that someone wouldn't break the news to her before that, she did deserve to know. And even more than that, considering the way she looked up to me, perhaps this reminder that I was as mortal as anyone else would be healthy for her as she entered Beacon Academy.
I'd need to figure out how to deal with the Slayer, but even if I did end up court marshaled, I imagined, I knew Ironwood could be trusted to make arrangements for the foreign soldier, and he'd be in good hands. I wondered if Ironwood would have suggestions for prosthetic limbs. It would give us something new to talk about, I supposed.
And, of course, I had a eulogy to write, and though I had no idea as to how much of the story's details would be classified, I'm sure I could still include some fitting tribute to Helmer's legacy.
I had a lot to do, but for now, for now, I would sleep, and leave those problems for after I woke up.
AN:
And... that is it for the main story of Quite Doomed.
I'm glad you've all seemed to enjoy it.
Some comments I haven't responded to yet because they involve some thoughts on the epilogue/potential sequel, but I have a follow up post I'll be putting up today with a few of those details.
Rest assured, I've enjoyed the discussion that I've seen.
- Location
- Sealed away in a pure maidens heart
... Huh, didn't expect him to be stuck on this side. I mean. I should have expected it! The portals were unstable but... i dunno. Was expecting a return to status quo i guess! ... Makes me wonder how he would react to like, actual Remnant. Would he like Atlas? He is a soldier. And will they actually get past the language barrier? Or is he just gonna communicate with grunts for the rest of his life anyway? So many new possibilities!
Oh yeah, and the whole de-arming thing. Very brutal. Took me by surprise! Aura usually make such injuries impossible, but considering it's a doom cross i should have been more weary i suppose! Anyway, good chapter, looking forward too that epilogue!
Oh yeah, and the whole de-arming thing. Very brutal. Took me by surprise! Aura usually make such injuries impossible, but considering it's a doom cross i should have been more weary i suppose! Anyway, good chapter, looking forward too that epilogue!
I don't doubt Slayer can learn new language. He is not mindless. He should already know at least "Schnee", "grimm", "happy" and "no, bad!". 
Baron Ouroboros
Emerald Leaves and Crimson Petals
- Location
- Vancouver
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I imagine the sequel will be Quite Doomed 2: Hell on Remnant.
I was a bit worried with Doom Eternal's release what that might mean for my planned sequel, but there is a 10 year gap it and 2016, so if I do plan on dealing with Eternal, I can always say that this is what the Slayer was doing during that time period. But the planned sequel, as loose as those plans are, would involve him coping with life on Remnant and adjusting to a more peaceful life. (He'd still fight plenty of Grimm, mind you, but people would expect him to have some downtime and to relax.
As for the de-arming, part of that was, well, Winter having been brought that close to the brink of death several times during the story. It'd feel a bit hollow if that brutal slog had no long term consequences.
Some of those questions will be answered later in a more formal informational post.
As I mention above, it's going to be a somewhat more peaceful story. I mean, still a combination of Doom and RWBY, so violence would be present, but there would be a much higher ratio of downtime-to-brutal mayhem.
Some information on Plotting as well as the Potential Sequel/Epilogue
So, this is an informational post, featuring my objectives in writing the story, and the plans for a sequel/epilogue, which are a bit vague, I admit. I don't want to address too much of the speculation on a sequel, since I'm still plotting things through in my head.
Note that this does have spoilers for both Eternal and RWBY.
First, just as a bit of trivia for my process writing the story, here are some of the objectives I set when writing this story:
1. Try to create a plausible reason for a more moral faction to decide that risking working with Hell energy would be productive for them to do. Honestly, "Finally trying to win against the apocalyptic threat that we've been facing for the span of recorded history, also fuck Jacques Schnee," seem like good enough reasons, and they're a faction with enough experiences in fighting hordes of unrelenting monsters to think that they could handle it.
2. Have Winter Schnee stab a bunch of demons in the face.
3. Have the super practical and totally ethical Hell research project backfire anyway. No. It's still an awful idea. Even before certain revelations from Doom: Eternal.
4. Refer to the BFG as the ELF. Yes, that was actually a major motivator in my getting this story out. I am in fact that easily amused.
5. Do some character development for the Doomguy. Or maybe less development and showing a different but believable side to the person we see in the game. How would he react to people who were not quite messing everything up yet in regards to Hell? He'd probably try to stop them, but he'd be… relatively diplomatic about it. It helps that Winter was the first person who cared about his emotional well being in a long time, and that she listened when he first told her that summoning demons was a bad idea. Granted, the story moved a bit away from that, but I like the way his character turned out.
6. Mechs punching demons in the face.
Plans for the Epilogue:
I do plan on doing a debriefing, which should be out at some point… soonish. Honestly, that's one part that would be arguably part of the main narrative, but still.
The one part that might take a bit of delay would be the Ozpin epilogue, and that's mostly because I don't quite know where to fit some of the distant past events in the epilogue, and what the timeframe was.
There were definitely a few ideas for that past struggle against Hell that I wanted to write, but I'm not strictly sure where the place the events on the timeline. (I know more about what's happened in RWBY and the distant past now, but I'll need to do some research on that front to make sure I don't make a mistake with the timeline.)
Also, some things are both easier and more complicated now that, well…
Sequel Plans:
Truthfully, the plans I had for the sequel weren't anything grand or dramatic, though there is room for that. I can't respond to too many of the thoughts people have had, since there are things I'm still figuring out. There were two primary directions I could see a sequel going:
Scenario 1:
With James and Ozpin wanting to make him a Hunstman and, for whatever reason, not thinking he's already qualified for the position, the Doom Slayer is sent to Beacon academy, where this 30-to-40-year old looking man is sent to join Team RWDBY (Pronounced Rudby, with a silent D). He then joins on their adventures, shocking and horrifying people with how cool and violent he is, but everyone likes him anyway despite the fact that a number of these people would be morally against that level of violence when applied to people. Despite the fact that they've been joined by a highly skilled and incredibly violent individual, most of RWDBY's missions go exactly the same as in canon, except with a lower death count of named characters for some reason.
Scenario 2:
Winter and Doomguy's occasionally violent buddy cop adventures, interspersed with the Doom Slayer trying to cope with a life surrounded by people who aren't all desperately fighting an endless war. Only some of them are. And even those people don't expect or even want him to spend all of his time fighting Grimm, and are actually concerned about his mental health beyond the level of it possibly harming his combat ability. Meanwhile, he's trying to figure out a way back without, you know, opening a portal into Hell. Honestly, I think this has a lot of potential, as while you might think the militarized aspect of Atlas would make him comfortable…
Anyway, I like Scenario 2 just a bit more than the other. (This is a joke. Scenario 2 is the only one that I am actually considering writing. I just want to be clear about that for a moment.
Also, just… take a moment and consider the one type of Grimm that would probably be the most interesting to pit the Doomguy against, from a story/narrative perspective, and I am thinking of a very specific type of Grimm when I say that.
Note that this does have spoilers for both Eternal and RWBY.
First, just as a bit of trivia for my process writing the story, here are some of the objectives I set when writing this story:
1. Try to create a plausible reason for a more moral faction to decide that risking working with Hell energy would be productive for them to do. Honestly, "Finally trying to win against the apocalyptic threat that we've been facing for the span of recorded history, also fuck Jacques Schnee," seem like good enough reasons, and they're a faction with enough experiences in fighting hordes of unrelenting monsters to think that they could handle it.
2. Have Winter Schnee stab a bunch of demons in the face.
3. Have the super practical and totally ethical Hell research project backfire anyway. No. It's still an awful idea. Even before certain revelations from Doom: Eternal.
4. Refer to the BFG as the ELF. Yes, that was actually a major motivator in my getting this story out. I am in fact that easily amused.
5. Do some character development for the Doomguy. Or maybe less development and showing a different but believable side to the person we see in the game. How would he react to people who were not quite messing everything up yet in regards to Hell? He'd probably try to stop them, but he'd be… relatively diplomatic about it. It helps that Winter was the first person who cared about his emotional well being in a long time, and that she listened when he first told her that summoning demons was a bad idea. Granted, the story moved a bit away from that, but I like the way his character turned out.
6. Mechs punching demons in the face.
Plans for the Epilogue:
I do plan on doing a debriefing, which should be out at some point… soonish. Honestly, that's one part that would be arguably part of the main narrative, but still.
The one part that might take a bit of delay would be the Ozpin epilogue, and that's mostly because I don't quite know where to fit some of the distant past events in the epilogue, and what the timeframe was.
There were definitely a few ideas for that past struggle against Hell that I wanted to write, but I'm not strictly sure where the place the events on the timeline. (I know more about what's happened in RWBY and the distant past now, but I'll need to do some research on that front to make sure I don't make a mistake with the timeline.)
Also, some things are both easier and more complicated now that, well…
The Slayer is 100% the old Doom Guy. I admit, I was one of the holdouts convinced that 2016 was a reboot instead of a sequel when I started this story, and that does kind of change a few things. That particular revelation opens and closes a few doors, and it is worth considering, but honestly I'd been considering making it Quite Doomed canon anyway despite not actually believing it, so I think it all works out. I'll still need to think over a few things.
Sequel Plans:
Truthfully, the plans I had for the sequel weren't anything grand or dramatic, though there is room for that. I can't respond to too many of the thoughts people have had, since there are things I'm still figuring out. There were two primary directions I could see a sequel going:
Scenario 1:
With James and Ozpin wanting to make him a Hunstman and, for whatever reason, not thinking he's already qualified for the position, the Doom Slayer is sent to Beacon academy, where this 30-to-40-year old looking man is sent to join Team RWDBY (Pronounced Rudby, with a silent D). He then joins on their adventures, shocking and horrifying people with how cool and violent he is, but everyone likes him anyway despite the fact that a number of these people would be morally against that level of violence when applied to people. Despite the fact that they've been joined by a highly skilled and incredibly violent individual, most of RWDBY's missions go exactly the same as in canon, except with a lower death count of named characters for some reason.
Scenario 2:
Winter and Doomguy's occasionally violent buddy cop adventures, interspersed with the Doom Slayer trying to cope with a life surrounded by people who aren't all desperately fighting an endless war. Only some of them are. And even those people don't expect or even want him to spend all of his time fighting Grimm, and are actually concerned about his mental health beyond the level of it possibly harming his combat ability. Meanwhile, he's trying to figure out a way back without, you know, opening a portal into Hell. Honestly, I think this has a lot of potential, as while you might think the militarized aspect of Atlas would make him comfortable…
Since he was the original Doom Guy, this is a guy who was willing to beat the shit out of his commanding officer for ordering him to open fire on protesters. He's not exactly the sort of guy to smoothly fit into any sort of military hierarchy. Even his time with the Night Sentinels, who were a collection of proud warriors, his military work seems to mostly involve fighting really well rather than fitting into the group. I mean, he bowed to the king when he saw the ghost, but when the King told him not to do something he immediately did it anyway, and then he didn't even hesitate to shoot the Hell Priest at the arena despite knowing the consequences, so joining them doesn't really look to have had any effect on his obedience issues. If he's given some sort of… Special… Auxiliary… Specialist rank just to have a place to put him, and he's given orders he doesn't like, or he just randomly joins in a Faunas/Workers Rights protest that he sees while walking down the street, well, that could be an interesting situation.
Anyway, I like Scenario 2 just a bit more than the other. (This is a joke. Scenario 2 is the only one that I am actually considering writing. I just want to be clear about that for a moment.
Also, just… take a moment and consider the one type of Grimm that would probably be the most interesting to pit the Doomguy against, from a story/narrative perspective, and I am thinking of a very specific type of Grimm when I say that.
As a side note, one of the things I was hesitating about was determining the relationship between the Doom Slayer and Ozpin, (because I think it would be a waste if they hadn't met at least briefly before) but I'm not sure where their reunion would fall on a scale of this to this.
(During the incident, that particular incarnation was a bit more muscled than usual, for Ozpin.)
(During the incident, that particular incarnation was a bit more muscled than usual, for Ozpin.)
Man, you scared me with Scenario 1 for a moment.
BTW I don't see anything spoiler-y in "RBWY Spoilers".
BTW I don't see anything spoiler-y in "RBWY Spoilers".
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- Location
- Over the hill and far away
The story of RWBY is pretty messed up in later seasons, so seeing Billy's kid shake things up should be pretty neat
Darik29
Verified Delicious
No matter what happens, especially given Doom Guy is who he is, I would genuinely Love to see some of those buddy cop shenanigans.
Bonus points, Winter gets an integrated Gun in her new arm after the experience that was Hell. That or even a second weapon altogether, if not an addition to her blade. She needs a gun.
And finally!
Given the time period, I expect that Winter will he joined by Doom Guy in Vale in time for the Vytal Festival. And everything that follows.
So that'll be amazing to read.
You make Amazing work boss, no mistake.
And hey, Winter and Ironwood match now! Huzzah!
Bonus points, Winter gets an integrated Gun in her new arm after the experience that was Hell. That or even a second weapon altogether, if not an addition to her blade. She needs a gun.
And finally!
Given the time period, I expect that Winter will he joined by Doom Guy in Vale in time for the Vytal Festival. And everything that follows.
So that'll be amazing to read.
You make Amazing work boss, no mistake.
And hey, Winter and Ironwood match now! Huzzah!
- Location
- Britain
I find Winter's misinterpretation of the Doom Slayer's crusade upon hell quite amusing. I'll admit I am super curious how she would have reacted if she learned how the demon's culture/history paints him almost like the Grimm. An undying force of destruction that has been slaughtering them for as far back as their records survive.
Temestor Braiva
Small Man On Campus
I'm wondering how Winter dealing with the Slayer for so long and bringing him with her would factor into how she deals with Qrow and his antics.
Honestly not sure if it would make her develop a lot more patience, or if he'd end up rubbing off on her so that she's even less willing to put up with Qrow's shit.
Would also be curious to see how Qrow himself would interact with him. Not sure what he'd think of the weird drunk hobo who just showed up out of nowhere to pick a fight with Winter.
I couldn't help myself but to make a little joke at the expense of some of the standard fanfiction formats. (Actually, that's a lie. I could have helped myself, but I chose not to.)
And the RWBY spoilers, honestly, they're kind of light/old, but...
It's Ozpin's having multiple incarnations. I mean, it is kind of a big one, as vague as I was when referring to it, but still.I felt a bit odd casually talking about that reveal when I was including spoilers for Doom.
Glad you're looking forward to it.
She has enough puzzle pieces to make an interesting image, but there are some central ones that she doesn't have. She's entirely right that he was severely traumatized, but he's already had a long time to train himself in healthier coping mechanisms. (... Well, as healthy as killing demons can qualify as, anyway.)
However much healthier he is now, he's still utterly unused to anything approaching a civilian life.
Even in the Night Sentinels, he associated, but he just stopped speaking even as he was recovering. He seemed to associate pretty much entirely with the warriors there, a fair portion of which disliked him for starting out as an outside, and at a certain point they started revering him. Then he was on a war footing. Then all of those friends he may or may not have made among the Sentinels were murdered, just like most of his friends on Earth were (and if they weren't, all of those friends are long, long dead of old age by the time of 2016.) He's definitely, from a mental perspective, healthier than one might assume, judging by the Fortress and his accumulation of hobbies and light reading, he's had a long time to come to terms to things, but healthy isn't really a word I'd use to describe his mental state. And now he'll be in a place with people who he'll need to interact with and are actually a bit concerned about him as a person, which is something that he's not exactly used to.
I'll be digging through the codex entries a bit more soon, though, just to verify some of those details.
Though... he's definitely not suicidal as she assumed. Some might argue that, "Kill demons until either I or every last demon is dead" isn't much better as far as mental health goes, but he makes it work better than most would. Especially since the, "Him dying" portion doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon.
I'll be digging through the codex entries a bit more soon, though, just to verify some of those details.
Though... he's definitely not suicidal as she assumed. Some might argue that, "Kill demons until either I or every last demon is dead" isn't much better as far as mental health goes, but he makes it work better than most would. Especially since the, "Him dying" portion doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon.