Nearby the front gates of Alexandria, the RV had gotten loaded up with some remaining firearms and ammo the group had already found before the Slayer arrived here. There were also a few other necessary supplies they might need if stranded away from their community longer than intended. Aside from the trailer vehicle, Rick is also bringing along the van on this trip to Oceanside. It offered plenty of room in the back for conducting any more weapons for the group.
Meanwhile, the Slayer was busy cleaning the guns and inserting the bullets into the magazines. He still kept his helmet on for nobody to witness his facial appearance again. The Slayer already knew these people have become fascinated by the weapons he had maintained, and on the usual level, the Slayer felt like they wanted to see how they work.
But these people didn't know how ballistic the UAC-based weapons were. Even if they try, it's wasn't safe for them to handle. Besides that, the Slayer didn't want to waste his ammo for any practice. The Slayer did the best he could to keep them away from his weapons by either scowling at them or solely waving them off without any physical conflict like what happened earlier today with Daryl.
Previously today, the next meeting took place at the Monroe family's empty townhouse. It remains the only place acquiring a lot of different maps of the area, every ounce of Virginia as a whole.
The Slayer was still able to return and become informed about the group's plan of action for Oceanside, whereas he wasn't going to let himself into Monroe's house for good reasons. VEGA thought it would be a good idea if the Slayer keeps his distance from the residents here. Daryl was there, still staring balefully at him like the Slayer was his prey. The same went with Michonne, who didn't want the Slayer to be near Rick at all. Everyone else just seemed to become much better off with the Slayer not present around the group when there's a meeting.
At the gathering, it wasn't just those who had been present with Rick earlier, in which Tara was explaining about Oceanside's security. Most time got spent examining a map after Rick's group drew up a detailed plan for arriving in Oceanside, especially what we're going to do once we get there.
After hashing out every last detail, it was decided after some back and forth of exchanging arguments and agreements. Nobody would waltz right into Oceanside's property to talk it out first and then ask for the guns. It became considered upon what Tara had also mentioned to them about the Oceanside leader.
Her name was Natania, the leader of the matriarchal community. Natania's paranoia about the Saviors and fear of becoming unstoppable has resulted in one thing. The woman has ordered that if any outsider appears and confronts her assembly, they get shot on sight.
When the Slayer thinks about it, he could somewhat honestly relate to the Oceanside leader to his unyielding hate for demonic creatures that defiled the only thing that made him human in any shape or form. Because no matter how much they begged and pleaded, death is what takes them away during the Slayer's path of perpetual torture.
Alexandria still had hoped to approach Oceanside as a group. They aspired to promise a better world for all by joining together with Alexandria, the Hilltop Colony, the Kingdom, and even those trashy Scavengers.
It would somewhat inspire Oceanside to take up arms with them against the Saviors. Though, everyone wasn't holding their breath. For one, the Scavengers weren't trustworthy at all, thanks to Rick's stupidity. Secondly, the Kingdom hadn't even agreed to fight yet. It would take more convincing. And guns. Probably a lot more guns than usual.
After the meeting, the group decided who was going and who was not. Rick had notified the Slayer that he was still coming with the small group journeying to the Oceanside community. After all, the Slayer was the one who told Rick about Tara's secret in the first place. The Slayer's head ached from irritation, but his mind remained determined as typical. As of now, the Slayer had gotten used to some of the residents for the past few hours.
Aaron.
Eric.
Bruce.
Mikey.
Barbara.
Kent.
Anna.
Tobin.
Francine.
Scott.
And these two other newcomers, Jesus and Enid, who the girl was probably around Carl's age in tow.
These two Earth survivors from the Hilltop Colony came to join in on the mission. Jesus and Enid had arrived in Alexandria not long after the whole Oceanside discussion with Rick's group and the rest of Alexandria's residents. Rick or Daryl had must have called them in on this arrangement. Rick introduced them to the Slayer after they greeted and exchanged handshakes, yet they were a bit suspicious about the Slayer like the rest of the survivors.
Surrounding the RV and a few of the cars required for this mission, several Alexandrians were all currently getting prepared to journey to the Oceanside community. In a sense, they were passersby to the Slayer as some got shown either staring or avoiding his direction. A discomforting sensation signified the area of people still keeping their distance from the Slayer. Watching everyone make their way toward the vehicles, the Slayer saw Rick turning over to Tara as they talked.
"Are you ready if this goes south?" asked Rick.
"It won't," Tara assured.
"If it does, you don't need to feel bad."
"I do feel bad. I will."
"Tara…" he trailed, looking at her and then toward the vehicles. "You don't have to."
With the others, shown nearby with their materials prepared, some of their faces immediately showed fear as they saw Tara making her way over to the Slayer nervously.
"Um, hi again." She uttered a bit, trying to speak up.
The Slayer's head turned over, giving her his full attention and a heavy grunt. Daryl and some of the residents became quite aware that Tara was around the Slayer, which Daryl persisted to do anything if things go wrong right now.
"Listen, I never got to thank you for the whole, you know. The stuff that I had to get off my chest. I didn't know whether I wanted to tell Rick about Oceanside or not, but I am glad you tried looking out for me by telling Rick and Michonne. I-I also wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I acted back there. I only wanted to keep my friends as safe as possible. So yeah, you know. Thanks for the help, big guy." Tara said, awkwardly looking away.
The Slayer's eyes fixated on the ponytail girl with a hint of interest, but still barely cautious about being buddies with these Alexandrians. Outwardly, his arm raised over and made an enormous fist to limit respect that followed with a single nod. Tara soon commemorated this newfound friendship with a fist of her own, gently bumping onto his with a smile. The Slayer then completed it with a rock-to-rubble finger-waggle to show his softer, gentler side.
Strangely enough, this caused a snicker to escape Tara's lips at how silly the Slayer was when humorously twiddling his fingers. Everyone else, including Daryl, observed this exotic habit like the Slayer hadn't acted so clownish before. Before the Slayer thought he could go back and do his business, he then saw that Tara was sitting down next to where the Slayer remained. He raised an eyebrow with puzzlement at what she was trying to do until the Slayer heard her speak again.
"I just thought, maybe, I could start over this whole bitter behavior I had towards you. Jesus told us that Rosita left with Sasha to go after Negan. Rick said she didn't show up on guard duty, which is how we wondered. Did you happen to see her?" Tara asked, looking at the Slayer as he glanced back.
The Slayer's eyes slowly rolled by themselves without his consent, already aware of Rosita's past cold attitude about him subsisting in Alexandria to help win their senseless war. Despite the Slayer's annoyance, he went to grab his notepad and marker before scribbling down each word possible to understand.
YES
SHE GOT TOO RASH
NOT LIKE EVERYONE ELSE WANTED ME HERE
I DID NOT BOTHER HER
At that moment, Tara began to raise an eyebrow, "How come?" she asked.
The Slayer shrugged as his permanent response just before Tara silent down a bit afterward.
"So, big guy, back at Jadis' hideout hours ago..." Tara almost trailed off when the Slayer started to shift a bit uncomfortable, "...I didn't think you looked that bad without the helmet. But I guess Jadis is always a total bitch like before, and I couldn't blame you. I just thought that you were living under a rock or some shit. But yeah, it's the end of the fucking world. We're living in an apocalyptic shitstorm filled with the walking dead. Still, though, what I don't get is how you manage to scare the living shit out of everyone when she told us off. And your eyes..."
The Slayer slowly sighed before scribbling down the next piece of paper, saying:
BEEN THROUGH MUCH
DON'T REMEMBER MUCH
NOT WANTING TO AT ALL
Tara sighed, "Wouldn't you want to remember other things in life? Friends? Family?"
With what Tara had just said to the Slayer, he didn't have long to think about those two subjects. The Slayer knew he would be too quick to reply about any lost remembrance, and he still wasn't emotionally prepared to confront her about it. While inspecting the Praetor Suit's textures to the visor, the scratched breastplate, despite bearing a powered exoskeleton, the Slayer looked at Tara. She was too busy examining the Slayer's Praetor Suit with curiosity and the markings that originated alongside its protected armor.
"Man, you looked like you've been through some tough shit like us, huh?" Tara commented, showing a raised eyebrow.
The Slayer wasn't going to answer that judgment of hers, but most likely the other question. After scribbling down another reply, the Slayer's tired eyes slowly glanced at Tara before showing his notepad.
I DID REMEMBER THINGS SPECIAL TO ME
ALL INNOCENCE LONG GONE
BUT I STILL REMAIN
ALWAYS HAVE AND WILL
I SEND MYSELF FIRST
AND FIGHT FOR EVERYONE
FOR THE EARTH
UNTIL EVIL IS DESTROYED
Tara glances at the Slayer with a tilted head until she notices the tiny chain on his left hip, where he carried around Daisy's left hindfoot. When the Slayer became finished, he put away his notepad and continued to prepare each weapon that got acquired in the van. Tara remained puzzled by the Slayer's mysteriousness and looked down to where Daisy's hindfoot dangled on the chain of his hip.
She could think back to all the people that were considered family is now gone forever. Tara's family's cries echoed in her ears, and her sister and niece's final moments kept replaying in her mind. It wasn't fair. Tara went through training at the police academy and felt so sure she could protect her family. But she failed. She couldn't even stop Brian Heriot from getting Lilly and Meghan killed. Tara was also hoping that Heath was somewhere out there safe, perhaps. Afterward, Tara begins to stand back up to her feet and looked at the Slayer once more.
"Thank you again for helping us, big guy." Tara smiled, "We may have lost people of our own, but at least it's good to be around those who can understand what that feels like in a way maybe. I hope Rick and everyone else here will accept you."
Just as Tara left, the Slayer could've sworn he notice Daryl glaring at him a few seconds ago before scoffing somewhere else. Shaking his head, Daryl didn't want to believe it at all. It all had to be a facade to him.
Daryl frowned, then began thinking in his thoughts, "I don't trust that man. Not one bit. But even if Tara trusts him, he's not going anywhere near the others."
Afterward, the group was now about ready to hit the road. While most fit comfortably into the RV during travel, the Slayer got himself cramped in the back of the van with all the guns. Michonne was at the wheel while Rick acted as a navigator with the map Tara had outlined earlier. Aaron drove the van with Gabriel, Eric, and the Slayer as his three passengers. Lastly, Daryl rode solo on his bike alongside the RV.
It was quite a long journey.
The journey was quiet.
Rick's plan became simple. They wait at the outskirts of Oceanside, then plant explosives to distract the women and children. They could hide or avoid Rick's group, depending on what the Oceansiders chose to do.
Everyone all focused on the car in front, following where Tara is leading them. They traveled the distance from Alexandria to Oceanside, and it wasn't a short drive either, but the group here had enough patience. As for the Slayer, he was mentally preparing himself for the assault on Oceanside. Though, the Slayer didn't become prepared for what was waiting for him in his subconscious. During all of that waiting, the Slayer's head leaned against the left side inside the back, thoughts overly processing each time. And for the first time in a long time, the Slayer soon fell into a deep slumber.
I didn't know how much time had passed.
For all I knew, it could be days, weeks, months, or maybe even years.
But the day after I sealed myself in Hell, I hadn't aged.
My weapons had long ago run out of ammunition and got shattered after being used as clubs to begin my genocide of the masses of demons surrounding me. Eventually, my luck ran out after endless fights and piles of bodies. I collapsed after taking out another group of monsters using just my fists.
The fatigue and injuries I suffered gradually caught up with me. For any lingering demons in the field, I was easy to pick, but I ended up falling into a series of runes carved into the activated ground. And just like that, teleporting me from Hell and taking me to an unknown location.
My next memory was waking up to somewhere entirely different.
I was on my own two knees, firmly held between two knight guards of the Night Sentinels, who were a warrior caste of Argent D'Nur. There was a stone-metal platform we were descending on like an elevator. After a few seconds, it stopped once it reaches the bottom, where I got dragged down a short passageway. The walls and flooring all around were covered in golden-colored sigils and ornaments. The knight guards brought my weakened self before a pair of high-ranking priests, wearing armor-mixed garbs and headdresses who were holding staffs.
"We found him in the valley. Just outside the castle walls. He was badly wounded and wearing this." The knight guard on my right spoke, handing my dusky abraded-looking helmet to one of the priests who accepted it to examine over with suspicious eyes.
I breathed heavily, despite my injuries, before speaking in a tense, broken tone. "...Guts. Huge guts!"
I stared blankly at my bloodstained gloved hands, memorizing the internal organs of the Tyrant in which I pulled out, the red tubes from the torso that powered the beast, balling up my fists.
"Kill them...must kill them all!" I finished, gaining the attention of the two priests as they looked down upon me. It gave them the sense that I was a real fighter and rightfully so.
"Hmm, he still has some fight in him yet!" exclaimed one of the priests, chuckling like he was impressed.
"Despite his injuries." The second priest added on, observing the wounds and gashes all over my body. They handed my helmet back to the knight guards. "Take him to the arena. Let him become judged like the others."
With that said, from the priests, I was then dragged back down the corridor by the knight guards. The world around me went vague as the scene changed.
Now, I was standing in a circular arena, where a dozen other men lay sprawled out around him writhing in pain or simply knocked unconscious. There was one standing in front of me, staggering as he swung another fist at me. At an instant, my hand shot out and blocked this man's strike before I delivered a strong right hook to shatter his jaw, blood gushing from the man's face as he got tossed to the ground.
"He's not even human!" One prisoner exclaimed weakly.
"Taking that tone with me. Do you want to die!?" Another prisoner growled, shifting from the ground.
I kept an unintentional gasping breath as I stepped sideways throughout the battle arena used for engaging in hand-to-hand combat. For whatever strength I had left in me, I was confronting my opponents, having just now thrown two of the muscular men, who were almost twice my stature, to the ground. Warping his face in pain, a large build of a man, sensing he had used up his energy, went limp. Near him, two other prisoners spread out miserably, having already fainted.
"Damn you! I'm going to beat you to death!" Another prisoner growled.
While also astonished at my sheer brutality, the robust man's face turned as red as a lobster as he threatened me. The giant of a prisoner looked like one of the deadliest hand-to-hand fighters in this arena, recognized by the quantity of strength. Spontaneously, there was a sudden movement as the giant man confronted me. He gave a crafty smile as he drew near me with a quick step of his seemingly bovine body.
The right hand of the giant prisoner struck out at me. However, that was a decoy. His left arm swooped down on me like a tree from outside of my field of vision. There was no telling how that got seen and brushed away so coldly by the likes of me. The big arm got knocked away fruitlessly. And then, I appeared to vanish suddenly. Slipping underneath the giant man's bosom, I sent a springing uppercut that smashed into his jawline.
Saliva and blood flew out together with a groaning voice from the man's lips who had a statue like that of a bear. His eyes wandered around in a daze then peeled back white in intense agony. The heaving of his jaw joined his broken teeth at an unnatural angle. The giant prisoner had crumbled onto the floor in an unshapely way with just one blow. The other prisoners present, including a few Night Sentinel soldiers, shuddered, realizing the situation. The fallen giant's jaw had become destroyed in a massive pool of blood and gore.
"RIP...AND...TEAR!" I hissed coldly, through clenched teeth, my voice echoed in the battle arena.
A shudder, like a chill, crept up from everyone's feet and ran up their spines. Some collapsed onto the ground as they raised cowardly shrieks.
Another priest, different from the other two from previously, approached me with a snigger. "...Nfufuu. You'll make a fine addition to the front lines, stranger."
"The demons, they are everywhere. Must...kill them all!" My mouth rambled in a growl, my blood boiling wildly in my veins.
*VMMM*
An immense hum occurred within the battle arena, where the priest, along with me, turned to see what it was. The figure appeared to be a towering angelic figure, reaching around twenty feet in height.
"Dress his wounds and bring him to us. I want to know about the others he speaks of." The figure spoke in a raspy, feminine tone of voice.
The priest bowed his crowned bald head to her, "Yes, your grace."
Things have improved significantly from that moment on, finding out that I had gotten teleported to a completely different universe and to a world called Sentinel Prime once my rage had dulled enough to allow me to think straight again.
I became treated for the injuries I had sustained in Hell before being sent to Argent D'Nur after proving myself to the Order of the Deag and the Khan Maykr. The homeworld of the Argentians, an empire built on strength, reminds me a great deal of the Greek past of the Spartans.
People saw me as unusual, exotic, calling me by the name Outlander, and they didn't conceal the fact that I'm not trusted. But because I had shown the priests and the heavenly being they served my strength and ability, I had become inducted into their military for training.
I made a name for myself amongst the soldiers as time passed. The brutality I had demonstrated had drawn the attention of many higher-ups, including King Novik, the ruler of the Argentians, considering me worthy of joining the Night Sentinels, an elite group of soldiers.
Though, an Outlander joining their order did not appreciate the Night Sentinels, making it their mission to either break me or boot me from their ranks. I did not waver, however, and proved my power in equal measure, whatever their efforts to get rid of me.
Then it happened.
Hell's armies assaulted Argent D'Nur, and I did not hesitate to launch myself into the battle. As I burst through their lines with utter disregard, my rage blazed like a supernova. I wouldn't let the demons do to this planet what they wanted to do to Earth, defending the people of this world despite treating me like an outsider.
The same order that treated me with disdain now treated me like a comrade-in-arms when the war ended, seeing how I proved myself in equal measure by defending their homes and their people. The battle between Hell and Argenta had only just begun. The demons emerged and threatened a variety of territories, but the Argentians, unlike Earth, served for war and did not yield an inch.
Hell had sent one of their highest-ranking demons to Sentinel Prime during this one battle. A Titan that was known as the Dreadnought. The gigantic size and power became too much for the Night Sentinels to fight back, even bringing the Icon of Sin's influence to disgrace.
When everything seemed impossible, I was confronted by a Maykr, clad in a long robe, dubbed the Seraphim by several Argentians, who told me that he had a solution for someone like me to annihilate the Titan. I accepted the Seraphim's proposal, wanting to end the struggle and eliminate the Dreadnought.
I got led into a large chamber with a bizarre-looking machine set up in the center. The building around me, known as the Chapel of Purity, flourished with the uproars of rapid gunfire, massive explosions, and fiendish roars reverberating from the outside. Before I could think of anything else, the Seraphim drifted past me, across and toward the chamber.
"We must move quickly. There will be those who would seek to stop this." The Seraphim said, where both of us advanced to the man-shaped pod centered in the elevated platform that unveiled on their approach.
"I offer you a gift." The Seraphim said as we stopped in front of a console beside the pod. "Take it. It will give you strength. Help you on your journey."
After a few seconds of observing back and forth, I climbed inside without hesitation. Glowing pylons were stretching around the chamber, in which the pod I remained inside leaned back and began to seal itself. As I glanced over to the Seraphim, a brilliant light began to swell my vision. His face stayed hidden beneath the shadows of the hood as an angular-looking hand reached out to the console.
"And now, they will fear you."
The light grew brighter to blind my vision, where I could feel molten energy surging throughout my entire body. Rage fueled my body until it ached instantly, remembering the only thing in my life that I cared about other than slaughtering demons. When I recalled back to a particular demon releasing what looked like a wad of wet fur onto the ground with a slimy thud, I became thoroughly confused until I noticed a tiny leg jutting out from the mass.
My eyes grew widely enraged when I scooped up the bloody mess, trying my hardest to catch the strings of intestines that fell from a hole in its stomach. They killed Daisy, my pet rabbit. She was all I had left, the personification of good and innocence in my life. I pulled back to whatever was existing inside my mind, to remember the day I first found her on Earth.
With both her two fluffy bunny ears on the top of her head, she was a tiny ball of wet fur shivering in the cold rain outside. Daisy seemed like a tamed-looking rabbit, meaning that she must have gotten abandoned until recently. Daisy would always sit to nuzzle on my shoulder, nibbling lettuce while I watched football and drink ginger ale. Sometimes, I regularly reached up to pet her each time, but then she disappeared when the demons invaded my hometown.
Seeing as to what her corpse remained as of now, I would gently run my hand down her side if she were still alive. Daisy's soft, plush fur became torn to shreds on one side. All of her bones stood crushed with a bite taken out of her backside. And lastly, yet worst of all, her head was missing. My muscles tensed up, and the tears welling up in my eyes began to flow down my cheeks. Then, I gritted my teeth together, seething with sheer rage. Those demons will regret everything as of this moment forward. I will make sure every single last monster would suffer for what they have done to Daisy.
Entering the image to the depths of my very soul, I tilt my head back, unleashing a terrifying roar that makes the whole void shatter like an earthquake. The dark realm of silence begins to crack, unable to handle my sound. Black crack lines are forming on all sides. I continue to roar as the realm proceeds to fracture until everything shatters within me.
I became infused with energies beyond the mortal realm within seconds. I got stronger, faster, and much more ruthless than I had been before. Once I stepped out of the Divinity Machine, I became granted with a sword, a Crucible, an energy blade that was said to be wielded only by the Sentinel Kings, and the Dreadnought was beaten.
My newfound strength helped me quickly end the battle, weakening the Titan after I drove the sword through its torso, penetrating its heart. And the existing hordes fled to Hell when the Titan collapsed.
As I stood on the corpse of the Dreadnought, the civilians who survived the attack were in reverence. A beast that neither of them could scratch, that I fell under my own. I became praised as a warrior from that day onwards, a favored hero of the Argentians. That day, they gave me a name as well. To be remembered through the Sentinel realms and etched into historical tablets, I became...
...The Doom Slayer.
"Hey, wake up!" Eric shouted as he shook the marine with concern in his voice.
The Slayer sat straight up, gasping roughly as he almost fell from his posture. His eyes were blazing and fists clenched with a rapid heart slamming into his chest. One of the Slayer's hands went on his throat as he struggled to breathe. The Slayer's face turned as red as a tomato from the lack of oxygen.
VEGA: {Deep breaths, Slayer, deep breaths.}
After listening to a few seconds of what VEGA stated to him, the Slayer's breath hissed through clenched teeth while his mind was still reeling itself back from what he had just felt and witnessed. It took almost several long minutes before the Slayer began to calm himself down. The Slayer's heart rate slowly eased back to its natural state, relaxing his clenched fists. Everything began to catch up with him now that the Slayer was starting to think once again. The Slayer exhaled heavy puffs of air as he laid back against the van's side.
"Big guy, are you okay!?" Eric asked, seeming concerned. "One minute, you looked like you were taking a long cat nap, and then the next thing we know, you started screaming your lungs out! You freaked Aaron out while he was driving to follow the others! Did you have a bad dream?"
The Slayer began to blink stupidly, noticing Aaron and Gabriel, who looked just as worried as Eric is right now. That was another panic attack the Slayer just had. He must've fallen asleep again. With every nightmare he's been having, the Slayer kept holding onto these panic attacks of mine. There was no time to sleep through this right now. The Slayer was already trapped here in this different dimension of Earth, and here he was, sleeping as a typical human would do.
The Slayer had to abandon his old self ages ago. He buried it all beneath his rage and fury and became the extreme predator that would seek and abolish every single one of those monsters. The Slayer can't sleep through it, not even for a mere moment. Though, after a minute or two, the Slayer couldn't help but wince in his mind for all that he began to remember back then when he was living in Argent D'Nur.
It was as if all those dreams the Slayer had were starting to come back to him now. Like someone took a steel rod and began smiting every side of his brain for more clues. Gingerly, the Slayer's head hung down a bit and tried not to show any sign of vulnerability in whatever sort of action.
Since now that Eric in front of him is way too involved with how the Slayer had acted seconds ago, two of his friends will become uncertain as well. For a few seconds, the Slayer looked at Eric and then nodded, waving a hand to show that he was fine. Despite the skeptical expressions on their faces, only Gabriel decided to calm down afterward.
"Do you want us to pull over, big guy?" Aaron asked, looking again to see that the Slayer shook his head. "Are you sure?"
The Slayer nodded, aggravated by the whole situation as it is now.
"You gave us quite a fright," Gabriel added, brushing a hand against his bald head, nervously sighing in relief.
The Slayer gave the men a thumbs-up to appoint that he was fine, for now, at least. But the Slayer also noticed that they have stopped.
The road has ended. Now, it was all water up ahead. The group had currently reached a small, glorified creek that became marked off on the map. Everyone already pulled their vehicles over and began loading up the lone boat at the water's edge.
Tara already got out to help with the boat. "We'll use this to go across-"
From the van, a few observers began to notice the Slayer's actions when getting out. Daryl, who looked at him with a frown, became confused about what the Slayer was doing right now. The Slayer was hastily enough to use both feet to open the backdoors of the large van.
Immediately after the Slayer exited out of the van, he made his way over to the stream of water as his hands speedily clicked and took off his helmet before dropping it. Tara and everyone else witnessed that the Slayer's helmet was now off again, giving them a vibe of uneasiness from the look on his expression.
Without a moment or two, the Slayer's knees collapsed on the bank alongside its river. He dips his gloved hands for a cup and splashes water onto his face. The Slayer looks into his reflection in the river, noticing that his face is back to normal. After releasing a deep sigh of relief, the Slayer soon became aware that a few onlookers were gazing their attention onto him again. The Slayer didn't give himself any sense of concern for their frozen looks, as all he could think of was the dream he just had ago.
Or more so as a vivid memory the Slayer had so long ago.
He remembers everything now.
As the years started to pass on Argent D'Nur, the war against Hell's armies soon continued to rage on, with the Slayer supporting each campaign. With the power given by the Seraphim, the Slayer was allowed to keep going for hours on end, possibly days, without tiring or breaking a sweat. The Slayer kept growing more powerfully built by the count of every demon he has slain. Despite how the Night Sentinels were serving King Novik, many looked to the Slayer for leadership whenever they were in the heat of battle.
And every time, the Slayer led them to victory on every front.
The expression on the Slayer's face almost felt like he wanted to scream audibly from the next thing he remembered. He soon learned a terrible dark truth during the war against the demons, that the Khan Maykr had made a deal with legions of Hell. They started to build factories in Hell to harvest mortal souls and convert it all into Argent Energy to feed into the Maykr's homeworld of Urdak.
And worse of all, many Argentians sided with the Khan Maykr. The unexpected announcement had sparked a civil war on the Sentinel worlds, making the war against Hell more complicated than the Slayer thought.
There were many shameful turns, but then an opportunity emerged to end the war against Hell. The Deag Priests provided them with information that might help deter the demons. They could finally put an end to their bargain with the Maykrs in their tracks. Under the Slayer's orders, he assembled the Sentinels, and they went into the abysses of Hell with vengeance and hatred blazing in their souls.
Gritting at this next idea through his teeth, the Slayer had no means of knowing that it was all just one big scam. He had gotten betrayed to Khan Maykr by the Deag Priests, sacrificing each of the soldiers in Hell so that they could finish the civil war in their interest. The group did the only thing we could, surrounded by persistent armies of monsters.
They attacked.
The Slayer learned too late that his gifts from the Seraphim would become a curse as he witnessed his comrades die one by one. As the Slayer struggled to fight on, he could see each of them pulled apart and gobbled up by the demonic hordes. The Slayer's fury took over once more as he demanded action for any fallen comrade.
Over time, all that existed was the Slayer and his second in charge, Valen. Yet another terrible fact was discovered by the man who had been like an older brother to him. Valen used to have a son that the demons had killed. In exchange for the means to conquer Argent D'Nur, the unfaithful Priests promised his son, empowering Hell to seize not only the core of the Argentians but the Elemental Wraiths who gave their realms and their influence to the people.
Valen received his request in the end. His son got revealed to him, but Hell's darkness had twisted his body and mind. The bastard had betrayed his people and comrades for absolutely nothing.
The latest discovery caused the Slayer's resentment to overcome him. He smashed his fist into Valen's face and marched onto the Umbral Plains, leaving the self-imposed exile of his former Second in Command as the Slayer embarked on a genocidal spree that almost ripped all of Hell apart.
There was nothing that could ever become saved from the Slayer's rage. Before the Slayer, from the lowest Imp to some of the most dominant of the Titans fell. The demons have come to dread the Slayer for a long time, many seeking to battle him out of desperation to slow him down as much as possible.
As the Slayer ripped them apart, he reveled and started enjoying the carnage, anticipating their fear and their agony. Twice, they've cost the Slayer his new life. First that day on Earth with Daisy, and then again to Argent D'Nur. The Slayer intended to crush the demons and their realm until nothing remained. Everything this dream meant about him and the painful feeling that he forced deeply back into his mind.
The Slayer's eyes have stayed reddened, stinging from all the immeasurable pain and love he had for Daisy and his deceased comrades. He had never been a man of tears. And even if the Slayer had been, being a Marine wouldn't have become his job. The Slayer's name wouldn't become the sole reason behind someone's shivering whenever they hear it. However, his name was already a legend. A curse that can produce trembles in the lips of every person who dares to say it.
An incalculable period had elapsed.
The Slayer had forgotten any effort at even figuring it out for a long time. Instead, anywhere he went, he just left piles of bodies stacked high, no longer caring which way the Slayer was going as his feet began to travel forward.
If the Slayer had been in his right mindset, he would have remembered the demons had begun to prepare something. By then, it was too late for him to pursue a small horde into the hands of a blood temple, where several Titans had destroyed the mountain under them and buried him alive.
The Slayer had become robbed of his Praetor Suit by the demons and imprisoned inside a stone coffin littered with runes. With no escape, they held the Slayer in solitary confinement, though he wasn't sure of what was unfolding.
They couldn't kill the Slayer, so they locked him up, hoping to hold him that way forever. Vigorously, the Slayer lifted his elbow to wipe his tear-stained eyes while gritting his teeth until his ears were so rash to regard something coming from behind him.
"Hey, are you alright-?"
Suddenly, the Slayer's instincts had gone wild just when he felt as if somebody was reaching their hand out to him, causing his own to shoot up and clasp that one's arm at lightning speed. Pulling himself up to each foot, the Slayer began to turn over and confront the person with so much as a gleaming toxic aura in each of his eyes, nearly considering it was a demon or zombie.
Still, all there was before came to be Jesus, the Hilltop's scout, whose helpful smile had turned startled like the rest of the group. Everyone else has not seen what was underneath the Slayer's helmet. Apart from Rick's crew and the garbage people's experience became utterly perplexed.
Daryl jerked his way over to aim his crossbow at the Slayer menacingly, only for Rick to stop him abruptly. Daryl glowers at Rick in anger until the leader shook his head disapprovingly.
"No..." Rick whispered in demand, perceiving that if the Slayer engages violence on Jesus, he will let Daryl shoot him.
The seething redneck felt even more aggravated by the fact that the Slayer was presently grasping Jesus' arm tightly as if he looked like he was going to break it in half.
"Big guy, stop! Let go of him!" Tara's voice yelled as she went over to reassure the Slayer, but got shook from the way the Slayer's eyes scrolled towards hers.
"It's okay, big guy! Nobody needs to get hurt, please. Jesus didn't mean to scare you like that." Eric attempted to console the Slayer, frantically coming over to cease his overwhelmed reaction toward Jesus.
He cautiously held the Slayer's armored forearm to prevent him from doing anything dreadful.
"Please," calmly replied Jesus, not knowing whether to use his combat and self-defense skills yet.
After the Slayer stared the two men down, burning holes into each of their hearts with his fiery eyes, he twitched an eyebrow up before regaining his composure at last. Everyone received a clear view of the Slayer's facial expression as he scowled a bit more roughly until a realization had got to him, beginning to let go of Jesus' arm, who started pulling back in a mix of awe and confusion.
The Slayer's eyes slowly looked away from another direction, scoping to spot everyone gawking on at what his actions have prompted so much. He almost started freaking out on one of their most intimate allies, and then all of a sudden, they witnessed that the Slayer was finally calm and soothed after that weird display of near dispute.
Both Eric and Tara then sighed in relief that the Slayer didn't do anything harmful to Jesus. The naturally-gifted man couldn't help but practically raise an eyebrow at the Slayer for the bizarre manner he had been presenting.
"Uhm...thanks for not crushing my arm?" Jesus said, feeling a bit unwieldy.
The Slayer hummed in response, making a low, steady sound like that of a bee.
Eric turned his head to Jesus, "It's okay. The man had a bad dream while napping on the way over here and was probably still experiencing a little aftermath. Aside from that, you didn't do anything wrong to try and help here."
The Slayer ignored them while he searched around for his helmet, which was already picked up by Jesus.
"You dropped this over here. I'm sorry if I had startled you just seconds ago, big guy." He said, though curious about the Slayer. "I was seeing if you were feeling okay and not looking startled as a dog getting attacked by a coyote."
The Slayer's blue, soulless eyes dropped to the man's namesakes and only managed a single nod. A deep chuckle came from the Slayer's dry throat as he could remember something from the man. The fact that this man's name was Jesus had begun to excite the Slayer's gut into complete laughter, throwing everyone off guard all around, including Jesus in front of him.
When the Slayer found out that this guy was called Jesus, he became almost so tempted to laugh some more at these ridiculous names. First, the trashy lady with the bad haircut, and now this. Rick and Michonne noticed this new action from the Slayer, almost like he didn't laugh for years to come.
When Jesus notices the Slayer's grinning face, he frowned. "What's so funny?"
The Slayer tried his best to hold against the laugher, but Jesus didn't become convinced. He began to scratch his head with an index finger before taking out his notepad to scribble his words in marker again.
IS JESUS YOUR NAME?
IT CRACKS ME UP
After examining, Jesus shook his head with a slight smile. "No, it's my nickname. My real name is Paul Rovia. Besides, I quite like my nickname, and it suits me better than my real one."
The Slayer shrugged with a mere nod, agreeing with the man just as he wrote down his next words.
YOU DO LOOK LIKE THE MAN
Jesus couldn't help but smile a bit more, "Exactly. And people do say I'm similar to him."
The Slayer exchanged another chuckle before he gave him back the helmet, and then the Slayer placed it back on again. Not before long, he started noticing Enid, who was coming over to check on Jesus.
"Is everything alright, Jesus?" she asked.
Jesus eventually waved a hand to dismiss, "No worries, Enid. Eric had told us that the big guy here had fallen asleep and woke up in a cold sweat. Just needed a little splash of water and some sort."
Glancing back at the Slayer again, Jesus asked, "That is if you're still alright, hmm?"
Only a thumbs-up from the Slayer was his single reply, causing him to raise an eyebrow but eventually let it slide.
Enid looked over at the Slayer, nervously smiling, "Rick has told me about you. Thank you for helping us fight."
After the Slayer gradually nodded, Enid understood as she left to speak with Carl. So far, everyone here seemed like good people. Though, the Slayer was still wondering about Daryl. Just as the Slayer watched Rick calmly reassuring Daryl and walking off to work with him, Father Gabriel came and stood with the Slayer.
"I can see that you show hints of attention about Daryl. You may not have known this, but he is a very damaged man," he said, looking at the Slayer as he glanced back.
The Slayer wrote down on his paper for Gabriel to read:
WHAT HAPPENED?
After reading, Father Gabriel soon sighed as he begins explaining, "Daryl got kidnapped by the Saviors, and I believe they truly made him devoided of sanity. He had become much more quiet nor social than usual now. Trust has become something that he struggles with now. They made him more broken than ever. Luckily, he managed to escape, but all he wants now is revenge. Rick, out of all the people here, has seen how Daryl had changed. He has known Daryl for the longest time since he's one of Daryl's closest friends."
The Slayer looked at Gabriel with sheer disgust at what Daryl got brought through. The more the Slayer kept hearing about the Saviors, the more he started to loathe Negan. He knew how Daryl felt about becoming a wounded, caged animal.
The Slayer wrote down on his paper again:
CAN NOT BLAME HIM
WANTING REVENGE
I DO THE SAME
Father Gabriel nods. "I understand that he's a bit malicious around you, but if you just give him time, he will accept you eventually."
As much as the Slayer understood this, it's not like he was after Daryl's business or anything from him. The Slayer was only here to put an end to this undead ordeal and take down the Saviors afterward, too. But aside from all that, Daryl can talk to the Slayer only when he's ready. Minutes later, the group took three trips across the water, with one person remaining each time in the boat, to ferry the first group across, return for the second group, and repeat the process with the third and last.
Each group conducted a small number of supplies they required for the task ahead, namely rifles and some dynamite. After the third group docked along the water's edge on the opposite side of the small river, they joined the others who waited. The Slayer was the last to get picked up. But if going for that choice, the boat might probably break due to the weighted Praetor Suit if the Slayer did.
Without any second thought, the Slayer ran across the water and dove in speedily. His armor embraced the water and began a rapid stroke towards the group onward. Though for about three meters, the waterway went down a bit, the rest of the journey was a path straight up. The Slayer breached to the surface. With a slow gasp, the Slayer strived his way to a small bank of the lake, where a couple of trees stood. The lake felt minimal, but it would serve the Slayer well.
The water dripped away from the Slayer's Praetor Suit in the sun, scrolling his eyes towards Rick's assembly. Most of the Earth survivors blinked at what the Slayer's somehow hilarious actions did. Rick and Michonne deadpanned at him when the Slayer united back with the group, noticing Carl and Enid covering their mouths from laughing.
The Slayer rolled his eyes after they noticed he became drenched. The river's water did an excellent job of getting rid of blood stains, grey matter, and other fluids on the surface of my armor. The Slayer didn't know his Praetor Suit could shine that way.
Daryl frowned at the Slayer before going over to Rick. "You trust him, Rick?" He asked with a look of disbelief.
"Yes, I do."
"But you hardly know him."
"I know that, but the big guy has answered me truthfully. He's not with anyone." Rick said, looking back at Daryl's unconvinced face.
"You don't know that. That man could be a spy of Negan." Daryl scowled.
"He didn't know who Negan was when I asked him." Rick persisted.
"Yeah, but any idiot could say that they don't know the bastard."
"Look, I don't know either, Daryl. But the man looked like he generally doesn't know. Hell, he didn't even know about the other communities either."
"But still...he could be taking advantage of you," Daryl said dryly.
"Daryl..."
"Nah, Rick. He comes running around out of nowhere, acting like he's some psycho who looks as if he could kill most of us easily. He doesn't even want any of you to touch his guns. He had that gun up in my face before he went and almost choked you. Hell, you saw him almost going to break Jesus' arm in front of everyone. The man, or whatever he is, might hurt you, or Carl, or Michonne..." Daryl finished, glaring a bit at where the Slayer was with Carl and Enid.
"Daryl," Rick said in a demanding tone, causing him to stop and look.
"Just because I let the guy in doesn't mean I'm not watching over him..." Rick whispered before peering back to where the Slayer remained. "I got my eye on the man. I'm watching every move he makes."
Unknown to them, the Slayer's ears were far too keen of ever ignoring Rick and Daryl talking about him. His lips almost curled into a frown just as they continued.
"One wrong move from him, then I'm going need you and everyone else with me to back this up. He'll get a bullet to the head if he hurts one of us." Rick remarked, not aware of the Slayer eavesdropping on him and Daryl. "You gotta trust me on this, Daryl."
The Slayer became further on Rick's kill list aside from Negan he had mentioned before. He was a little ways past the whole deal with everyone desiring for him to keep away from their friends and loved ones, but now, this is just making things a bit too tacky if Rick's going to kill the Slayer because of issues with treating him as a liability.
The Slayer understands this guy needs to be extra cautious, especially after whatever trauma everyone has been through, but that doesn't seem like he's reassuring people well enough. Rick may not be all that great of a leader, but he wants to bring people together to achieve whatever goal these people fucking desire, even if he has to kill or hurt in the process of doing that.
"But we'll already get what we need for ourselves. Why would we need that man?" Daryl asked, almost growling.
"Because he looks like a fighter, and I want people who can fight. The more fighters we gain, the better when we win." Rick's face began to darken. "So, don't you do anything to him. It's my choice if the man lives or not. Not yours. Got it?"
Daryl's face soon darkens, but he gave Rick a slight nod. "Fine."
The Slayer sighed at Daryl's last reply, causing him to look away from the two men without any more harsh opinions of him going on later.
Tara soon comes over. "You guys ready?" she asked.
"Yeah...yeah, we are," Rick answered, following behind Tara as she led the group through the woods ahead.
Before the Slayer could go along ahead, he soon began to attend to VEGA's update.
VEGA: {Slayer, I have been identifying a series of strange energy signatures throughout the area. Whether or not it is true, it could transpire undead proximity, or possibly the demons achieving a portal from Hell to this world's Earth.}
Up until recently, VEGA kept in touch with the Slayer on the HUD after he mysteriously detected some unusual energy throughout the surrounding area. The Slayer shook his head furiously at this, triggering a nearly sharp manner of his own. The Slayer became intensely aware of the stress he had been feeling. Struggling to keep his composure, the Slayer managed to drown through a few deep breaths in him for an escape from this panic.
Throughout the ages in battling the forces of Hell, not once had the Slayer considered showing mercy to those demons. Despite VEGA's integrity, the Slayer felt like it was a trick at its daintiest work. It was his nature to be cautious and skeptical. With every rational instinct telling the Slayer to freak out, he couldn't do this now. But if they are here on this version of Earth, then Hayden was here too.
Overall, the Slayer had to agree with VEGA that the energy signature seemed realistic. It was almost as if it was trying to tell him something. Just as the Slayer strings back along with the others through the wilderness, he still kept his caution with him on this short walk.
Back on the opposite side, a few shrubs stirred a bit. It soon became silent presently as several grim figures revealed themselves out of their hiding spots. There were glowing eyes with their exact razor-edged teeth, frightful croaks in their voices, and a ghoulish, demonic presence.
Each one of them was in different shapes and sizes. Various traits of strengths and weaknesses. Apart from what they became considered to call themselves from their home called Hell. The demons were all here for this Earth and to conquer everything that comes their way.
A/N: [THE DEMONS ARE HERE! Anyways, I got done with this chapter! More on the backstory with the Slayer, and it is bringing the Alexandrians on edge again. I have no problem if anything is gory or edgy, just as long as it serves a purpose in the story I'm making. I hope you guys leave a comment and stay tuned for more on the journey to Oceanside.]