It feels strange when you're trapped inside yourself, like a vivid dream that you can't wake from. Your senses are working just fine, and the body's the same as it's always been. You should be up on your feet getting the day started by all accounts, yet here you sit staring ahead as if someone stole your spine. Before now, the Slayer never knew what this felt like; he'd been driven to the brink of madness, sure, but this was a completely different type of mental anguish.
His whole life, he tried to be as good of a man as possible, someone that others could rely on and, if necessary, unload their burdens onto his shoulders. And in his opinion, he accomplished that, for he was willing to make as many sacrifices to protect those close to him and everyone else. However, there were times in which he failed, such as when the demons invaded his world, killed his parents, his rabbit, destroyed the planet and everything with it. But he took responsibility, sealed himself away in their realm, and vowed to fight until they were killed.
No matter how long until that goal was accomplished, he'd fight without end, and for a while, it seemed as though it was over. Things calmed down, and he met people, friends, something he believed was impossible after all he'd seen and done. He got lazy, stupid even, assumed that everything would get better for him, but looking back on it now, he realized how foolish that was. For whatever reason, tragedy was his only companion; the more he tried to return to a normal life, some semblance of joy and comfort, the more he challenged tragedy to hit him harder.
Eventually, it'd hit him so hard he couldn't get back up. Despite the strength and power he possessed, it'd knock him down and keep him there. Now was that time, as he sat motionless in a room all by himself staring at the wall, his consciousness hiding from reality to remain intact. The others tried to convince him it wasn't real, a trick played by the demons, but never in all his time fighting them were they nor their master ever capable of such a ploy.
Their frozen faces still screaming in death stuck to his mind like tattoos, images refusing to leave him and remind him of what he'd done. Their blood smelled different than the demons, a heavy scent of iron that dance through his nostrils and across his tastebuds. But then there was that teenager, who in his rage and insanity he perceived to be an Imp, he should've realized it the moment it pushed itself away from him on its palms; no demon ever did something like that. Sure, the demons feared him; he was the only one ever to put that emotion in their blackened souls, but even though they were terrified, they always fought to survive, never cowered.
They were only afraid, probably saw his fight with the Cybderdemon and Hell Guard, and when the demons fled, they came to investigate. That's what he believed, at least, and no matter what anyone said, his mind refused to accept anything else as the truth. Suddenly, he felt light; the sensation came from his side where the door to the room was. Who'd come to see him now? Maybe Charlie? Angel Dust? Katie? Or perhaps everyone at once?
Whoever they were started walking towards him; their footsteps sounded heavy, almost like his own. But when their owner reached him and moved so they would be in his vision, every part of the Slayer's being came back to life instantaneously. Standing from his seat slowly as he wasn't sure if this was real or not, once the Slayer's face was but a few inches away from his visitor's, he had no doubts.
"You're on your feet. Already making progress." BJ Blazkowicz, his great grandfather, told him with a smile.
Without thinking, acting purely on the surge of joy that filled him from head to toe, the Slayer threw his arms around his relative and held him tightly. They never had the chance to meet before this moment; all the Slayer had growing up was stories, pictures, and the history books that talked about his ancestor. Despite this, the Slayer felt they'd known each other his entire life, almost as if his great grandfather was a guardian angel watching over him.
"It's good to meet you too, finally," BJ said as he returned the embrace, both men struggling to maintain the stoicism their bloodline was so well known for.
Try as they might, though, neither one of them could keep tears from coming to their eyes as this meeting was long overdue. But this wasn't the time for any waterworks, only misty eyes and a simple yet sincere display of affection.
"Can you speak?" BJ asked when they pulled away, each one dragging an arm across their eyes to clear their sight.
"...Yes..." The Slayer answered, his gaze now focused on the floor.
"Another good sign." Bj said with a sigh of relief, "I've seen people be quiet for weeks on end, an unfortunate few for a couple of months. Then again, no one's been through what you have." He admitted.
"That's good, though..." The Slayer replied, "I've been fighting to protect everyone...to keep what happened to me from repeating...but I've failed..." He said.
"Hey, don't talk like that." BJ told him as he grabbed onto his shoulders, "What you've been fighting ain't just some assholes claiming their way is the only way. I've seen that and overcome it. The difference is that when I killed one of them, they stayed dead." He explained, "But the enemy you're fighting, it's ancient. Been here long before you, me, or our universe existed. By all logic and reason, you should've died the moment you crossed paths, and yet like the soldier you are, you pushed onward, never holding back. Willing to break yourself in ways that would bring other men to tears. And if anyone even you dare to claim that you've failed, I'll punch some sense into'em." He assured.
"You'd...punch your grandson?..." The Slayer questioned with a small smile of amusement present on his features.
"If he keeps talking like an idiot? Damn straight." He replied with a smile of his own.
However, before any more words could be exchanged, something happened that drew their attention. The satchel BJ had hanging from his shoulder, which the Slayer only now took notice of, was...moving?
"Oh right, sorry girl, forgot you were in there." BJ apologized as he undid the buckle that kept it closed, "I guess she heard you speak. It makes sense with those long ears she has." He said.
Long Ears? No, there's no way; it couldn't be, right? But it was, from within the satchel, BJ pulled out a light brown furred rabbit. And when its eyes locked with the Slayer's, a connection was made, one that consisted of recognition and amazement. Without hesitating, the rabbit broke free of BJ's grasp, leaping towards the Slayer, expecting him to catch it, which he flawlessly did.
"D...Daisy..." He softly spoke as he held her close in his arms, a flood of memories, HAPPY memories assaulting his mind.
In response to him saying her name, Daisy rubbed her face against his armored chest, a look of pure excitement and joy conveyed somehow through her animal features.
"She has missed the shit out of you." BJ spoke, regaining his grandson's attention, "From the moment she arrived in Heaven, she searched high and low. Even when I brought her back to the home I have there, she ran around hoping to find you." He recounted.
"Really...you missed me that much?..." The Slayer asked Daisy, to which she actually nodded in reply.
"Got so bad that eventually, she accepted that you weren't there. When that happened, she returned to the house and laid in the bed we had for her, and she stayed in it until now when I told her we were coming to see you." He explained.
"I'm...I'm so sorry..." The Slayer apologized as he hugged her tightly, but not too much because he didn't want to hurt her, "I should've been there...to protect you...mom...dad...everyone...I didn't get there fast enough...I could've done more...I'm so sorry..." He continued to apologize, overcome with guilt.
"Hey, I already warned you what would happen if you kept saying nonsense. I wasn't joking when I said I'd hit you." BJ warned seriously.
"Sir...in all due respect...I'm telling the truth..." He said, giving him a stern glare, "If I'd been better, I could've-"
WHAP
Similar to the sound a baseball bat would make, hitting a ball flying at over a hundred miles an hour, BJ punched the Slayer smack dab in the middle of his face. Whether it was due to the state he was in, the fact he wasn't expecting it, or it was due to the Blazkowicz's natural strength, the WW2 veteran sent his grandson across the room with that strike. As for Daisy, she was forced out of the Slayer's arms thanks to the force but safely landed on her feet immediately after she gave BJ a look that seemed to be conveying anger, at least for a rabbit.
"You only get the one warning." He told him as he walked over.
"You...really punched me..." The Slayer said in disbelief.
"Did you think I was bluffing?" He asked.
"No...but...I thought if anyone would understand, it'd be you..." The Slayer answered while looking up at him, "I may not know everything that you went through...some things are too horrible to keep a record of after all...but I know with what you were up against, there had to be times when simply fighting the good fight didn't do shit..." He explained.
"Well, at least you got that right." BJ told him, "But the part about not understanding? That's a load of crap. I'm probably the only person out there who knows EXACTLY what it's like to be in your boots." He said.
"I wouldn't know anything about that...mom and dad...as well as the world...they only talked about your victories...the moments in your life that weren't so dark and grim that they could be remembered...so forgive me if I'm ignorant..." The Slayer apologized right as Daisy hurried over to see if he was okay.
As he picked up his lapin companion so she could sit in his lap, BJ walked to his side and sat down before continuing their conversation.
"Will, I'm about to tell you something I've never told anyone. Not my friends, wife, or even the angels I've spoken to. Only I and my best friend, a man I fought alongside until we took down every goddamn nazi and ended their regime." He began as he closed his eyes, "1946. The war was at a tipping point then. The man most responsible for evolving the Germans' technology and weapons was at our fingertips. His name was Deathshead, and I swear on my eternal soul that if you hadn't found Hell itself that he was the devil. He cared not for anyone but himself and his research, a psychotic sociopath who'd burn down the whole world solely to satiate his cruelty. Our mission was to storm his castle, find him, and, if possible, beat him as slow as we could manage, though a bullet would do just fine." He continued, his body slowly tensing up due to what came next, "We lost a lot of good men that day, even more kids who only recently joined our ranks. By the time we made it inside, only five of us were still alive. But then we ran into a monster, a twisted abomination that was but another of Deathshead's experiments. It killed one of us instantly by crushing his skull; thankfully, we put it down before it got any more. However, not a minute later, the REAL monster showed. He wasn't wearing a suit of armor, wasn't bigger than any of us, but the smile he had on his face was all that was needed to show us what we were dealing with." He said before taking a pause.
Doing his best to keep calm, not to let emotions that've been dead since that day resurface now, BJ breathed in and out slowly before finishing the story.
"Thing is, even with that smile, which lacked any trace of empathy or otherwise, we weren't ready for what came next." He resumed, "With more of those things he created, he kept us pinned to the ground. Looking between all four as if he was searching for something, which he was. He said he wanted our eyes, though he didn't want mine. He and I had history, so he didn't want me to die. Instead, he gave me the honor of choosing. My options were a private named Wyatt, wet behind the ears but full of passion and a willingness to serve. The other, my best friend Ferguson, a man who could shoot me in the head, and I'd still share a drink with him. In my hands, their lives were held, all the while a sadist smiled with pride at what he'd done. And in the end...my loyalty overpowered my desire to save a poor unfortunate kid whose first deployment was now his last." He concluded as he reopened his eyes, "There's more to the story after that. Believe it or not, it wasn't the last I saw Wyatt. But that was the first of a long series of gut-wrenching experiences I had to endure to take down the greatest evil of my lifetime, to be what everyone says is a hero." He added.
Silence came between them, which BJ expected. Anyone after hearing something like that would need a moment to think.
"...Does it ever go away?..." The Slayer spoke after a short while, "The feeling of guilt...the regret of what you've done...the constant questions you ask yourself of whether not there was something else you could do...how did you get past it?..." He asked.
"It doesn't." BJ answered with a sigh, "Even after centuries of being dead, meeting those who were lost and telling them you're sorry. You'll always feel that regret things didn't end with no on dying and everyone making it out okay." He explained.
"What about Wyatt...did you ever see him after you died?..." The Slayer inquired.
"He was the first one to meet me at the gates, alongside Ferguson, who passed before I did." He replied, "Ferguson greeted me with a smile, hugged me, and said how happy he was to see my ugly face. Wyatt, on the other hand, told me something I never thought I'd hear." He admitted.
"What was it?..." The Slayer asked.
"It wasn't my fault." He answered as a smile came to his face, "He wasn't angry with me for choosing Ferguson, at least no anymore. After time passed and the anger of dying subsided, he understood how impossible it would've been for anyone to make a decision that wouldn't get someone killed. He also knew that his death among the countless I bore witness to weighed on my soul and threatened to crush me. Much like what is happening with you right now." He said before turning to look at his grandson, "Which is why I'm giving you the gift he gave me. I'm freeing you from your burden and telling you with nothing but the truth that none of what has happened is your fault." He told him.
Hearing that one sentence from the most remarkable person he'd ever known, the Slayer in what felt like ages, could breathe again. He wasn't entirely free of the thoughts and feelings inside of him, it'd be a long time before those would leave, or at the very least, he'd make peace with them being there. But knowing that the man he strived to be his whole life, a man who he saw as a pillar of justice and good, didn't blame him for what has happened, for what HE has done meant everything.
"Thank you..." The Slayer said, a long overdue sigh of relief escaping his lungs.
"I appreciate that, but I don't accept it," BJ replied before getting up from the floor.
"Why?..." He questioned, confused by why his grandfather would say something like that.
"I didn't come here just to give you a reality check Will, I came to help you win a war that's been waging for far too long." BJ clarified as he held out his hand for him to grab onto, "So get up, soldier, it's time to get to work." He ordered.
"Sir, yes, sir." The Slayer responded, clasping onto the waiting hand while using his other to hold Daisy.
With both men back on their feet, the Slayer's mind slowly but surely coming back together, and an adorable rabbit in the midst of it all, they headed for the room's exit to get things started.