Even those far away from civilization, far away from the overreach ADVENT, life wasn't easy for the resistance cells. It was rough living, scavenging for supplies, and hunting whatever animal life that was still around. One was always hoping, praying, that one of the ADVENT sweeps wouldn't find them. Hoping they would be lucky enough to be forever ignored by the "benevolent" overlords of the earth.
"SHIT!"
But today was an unlucky day for one group. They had found a resistance cell far in the mountains of Central Asia. Their time was up, their luck had run out. They barely managed to get out an SOS, but it was far too late for them. The slaughter of this camp would serve as a warning to others nearby. Brutally efficient as ever, ADVENT swept through the camp, quickly decimating any opposing forces. They had a ruthless leader at the helm. They reveled in the chaos, the blood, the screams of the civilians and soldiers alike. They were inhuman.
"Why the hell won't he die!? We've downed that feathered barbarian bastard twice!" A soldier yelled as they tried to hold back the line. "All he's using is axes!"
"Have you've seen what he does when he comes back!? He's butchering us!" Their compatriot was terrified. "We are dead!"
Sounded like a trait of a Chosen.
"Bullshit! Their reports had to be wrong!"
"Ha, ha, ha! Run cowards!" An energetic voice sung.
The sound of metal clanging together echoed in the air. The madman hummed as the metal clanging become more rhythmic in nature. He was striking his axes together as he calmly walked through the hail of fire. He looked out of place compared to the ADVENT troopers that were advancing with him. For starters, he towered over them and was bulky. A barbarian was a fine descriptor for him as he didn't wear armor like the rest of the ADVENT troops; well, barely wore any sort of armor, to be honest. He was bare chested and only clad in trousers that had some armor, a tattered waist cape, and a feathered necklace of sorts. The only vestiges of armor on his person were a helmet, spaulders, and gauntlets. Surely someone dressed like this should be easy to kill?
"A little sharpening before I lop off your heads!" He sang again.
TING
"Ack!" The metal helmet rattled as his head jerked back, causing him to stagger, nearly falling over, but he quickly caught himself.
"Heh… Ha! Ha! HA!" A deep chuckle erupted into a mad cackle. He pulled his head forward, readjusting his helmet. A finger traced the new dent, next to a few holes painted in orange splatter. "Oh, close!" A grin crept across his face. He pointed one axe in the direction of where the shot came from. "Don't have anything higher caliber anymore?"
"Just needed you to sit still for a bit." One of the resistance soldiers quietly quipped to themselves as they lined up a shot.
"Rover don't!" Their comrade noticed what they were doing. But was too late to stop them.
"Third times the charm."
"Ack!"
The shot struck true as a spray of orange blood and bone erupted from behind the madman's skull. The bullet punched through a weakened portion of the barbarian's helmet, boring through the center of his head and taking a chunk of gray matter as it exited. The barbarian staggered in place as the last bits of neurons fired off before finally collapsing into a heap.
"Cover now!" The troops advancing with him quickly moved into cover and returned fire in the shot's direction.
"Third times the charm." A satisfied smirk crept across Rover's face. High ground was perfect. "He should be down and out with a chunk of his noggin' missing!"
"Oh no, oh no, oh shit!" Their compatriot, on the other hand, was freaking out. Their head jerked back and forth in rapid succession, looking for something. "We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die!"
"Calm down and return fire, Jesse!" Rover barked at him. "You want the civilians to get out, don't you?"
"We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die." Jesse was out of it. His weapon clambered from his hands. Fear had consumed him. As if he knew what was coming next.
"Damn it Jesse! Get a grip and return fire!"
No amount of barking would get his compatriot would break the fear that held him too tightly. He was on his own. "Dammit, dammit." He cursed under his breath as he work on picking off any ADVENT that poked their heads out for a split second. Until something caught his attention. The sounds of animalistic groans and snarls. The sight of a barbarian's corpse twitching. How? More than half his head was gone.
"What the hell…?"
The groaning and snarls grew in intensity as the barbarian thrashed about on the ground. Fingers curling, mouth foaming, bones snapping, as his body contorted in on itself. His body slowly rose to his feet clumsily, like strings were pulling him up. Until suddenly, purple psionic energy erupted from his body, causing him to let out a hellish shriek as he jerked up straight. Eyes glazed over, the chaotic energy swirled around the snarling barbarian, healing the grievous head wound, layer by layer, gray matter to bone, bone to flesh. Another ghoulish howl filled the air as the energy grew more chaotic and then suddenly… he vanished in a blinding purple light.
"He's up! Move!" One of the ADVENT troopers said, and they started advancing once more.
"What the hell was that!?" Rover looked around frantically. Confused to why the opposition was advancing once again. "Where the hell did he go!?"
A dull purple light filled the room at first. Then it slowly grew brighter as energy swirls appeared and travel towards Rover.
"Oh no, no, NO!" Fear still coursing through his system, Jesse ran. Booking it towards a backdoor.
"Jesse, where the hell do you think you're—"
"REEEEEEEE!" That hellish shriek was back. And terribly close. Too close.
"What th—ARGH!"
A silver glint, followed by a spray of crimson, and a gun clattering to the floor. Eyes wide open, fear slowly settling in, Rover's hands flew up to his neck as he let out a pained gasp. He felt warmth flow through his fingers. Precious warmth leaving him.
"Hoowowww?" He let out a gargled gasp as he stumbled away from his attacker.
It was that barbarian, still enveloped in that psionic energy, eyes filled with madness, and still snarling but… with a twisted grin. He tightened his grip on his axes and raised them.
"NononoN—"
Like a rabid animal, he brought the axes down onto the unlucky man. Repeatedly. One strike to the neck again, taking along some fingers Rover was too slow to move. It was deeper than the first. More blood flowed. A strike to the chest, the sounds of bones splintering could be heard. Another strike to the neck again. It was barely hanging on now. Savagely, he continued hacking away at him as he gargled out pleads and screams until he could no more. He kept hacking, bathing in the blood of his victim, until he finally chopped off his head. Once that head was off, his vicious assault waned until it left him panting heavily. As the psionic energy dissipated, the glaze over his eyes disappeared.
"Argh, ah…" He stretched his neck. "That bloody hurt." A hand went up to the back of his head. Everything was back and healed, but a chunk of his helmet was missing. "But…" He giggled as he bent over and picked up the head. "I gotcha head! Another for the collection! Ha! ha!" He cackled, taking a moment to lick some blood off of the terrified face. "The taste of fear. Sweet as always!"
"Yorrick!" An ADVENT Officer had made their way into the building and up to the second floor to find him. They paused for a moment to as they entered the room, thrown off, if not disgusted by the excessive carnage. So this barbarian had a name.
"Hmm? Oh yes, right." He stashed the head away into one of his many satchels. He took a moment to twirl his axes, knocking off some excess blood. "More rebels to exterminate. Got a bit… distracted."
"One of the soldiers is making a break for it." They informed him.
"Oh, was it one from this floor?" He had faint memories of someone terrified running before he slaughtered their friend.
The Officer nodded.
"Oh, let them run away." He said. "Actually, let a few of those rebels get away." He hummed.
"Sir?" Such a strange order.
"Let them. Let them know fear. Let them know what awaits them for attempting to disobey the Elders." A wicked smile crept across his blood splattered face. "Let them know the fear of the Ghost Butcher."
"Yes sir." They nodded and quickly left to bark some orders to the other troopers.
Yorrick stretched his neck again. "Let's finish up business here." He struck the blades of his axes together before heading back out to hunt for any stragglers.
The slaughter continued for half an hour more, but Yorrick was true to his word with letting a small remnant of rebels escape the carnage. Just enough to share the tale of the Ghost Butcher. They started their final sweep for any hiding in building and for any intel and contraband.
"That was… invigorating." Like a hyped up rabbit, the barbarian was hopping in place. He twirled his axes for a bit before finally holstering them on his back. He rubbed his hands together. "Oooh ho, ho! Wonder where I'll be sent to next."
"Still uncivilized as ever, I see my knife eared friend!" An alluring voice commented.
"Eh?" He craned his head in the voice's direction.
Stepping off of the drop-ship was a pale brown man clad in a white suit. He looked very out of place. More out of place than Yorrick.
Yorrick squinted his eyes for a moment, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. A gasp escaped from his lips. His ears popped up. "If it isn't my puppeteer best friend!" A few skips and a hop over and Yorrick swept the twig, compared to him, of a man up in his arms.
"My suit…" He whined.
"I could just kiss you, Garrette." He sung.
"Please don't."
Much to his reluctance, Yorrick proceeded to kiss his cheeks a few times, smattering a suitable amount of blood and slobber onto him.
"YORRICK!"
A cackle escaped his lips before he finally dropped his friend.
Garrette raised a hand to his face, shuddering as he pulled back a thick trail of spit and blood. He looked down at his suit and wasn't amused by his new red, orange, and white splotched look. "For the love of… no, no, no." He quieted himself.
"So, what brings you here? You TV personality."
"Well," he mumbled as he fetched a handkerchief from his pocket to clean his face, "I'm here to retrieve you."
"Retrieve?" Yorrick gasped, hand clutching his chest dramatically. "I'm doing my bloody job!"
"Oh no, you're doing that quite… fine, I see." He cast a glance at a mutilated corpse. Excessive violence. Not his usual tastes. "We are being called in."
"We?" Yorrick crossed his arms. "As in all of us?"
He nodded. "An important meeting will happen in just a few days." He managed to get enough blood off his face and tossed the handkerchief aside. He gestured for Yorrick to follow him back to the drop-ship.
"Exactly why?" Yorrick followed.
"The Elders are worried. Their 'children' aren't fully cut out for a particular task."
"Oh, ho, ho, ho." He snickered. "Something's serving the Chosen their asses? That's a first."
"That's one way to put it." Soon the two boarded the dropship.
"Oh, I like that. This has me interested." He grinned. "Who we hunting?"
"Have you heard of that oh so troublesome resistance group called XCOM, right?"
A devilish grin crept across Yorrick's face. "Oh, I have."
