Foreword: You've been asking for it since I wrapped on the first Slayer Doom x Destiny fanfic. Ask and ye shall receive. I didn't want to start thinking about a follow-up until I could think of ways to incorporate elements of the Doom Slayer's lore into the Destiny framework.

That's something else I should address. While the story of Slayer and its follow-up is far more Destiny heavy, it was always my intent to take aspects of the Doom narrative (especially with Doom 2016 and Doom Eternal) and adapt them to fit within the framework. As one guest commenter on FF Dot Net noted, "it's more in the spirit of doom to tell the story of the lone badass in every individual setting, even if visually it's just the same angry man." It perfectly encapsulates my approach to it.

Summarizing the Destiny lore in a couple of paragraphs is basically impossible. I'd recommend checking out YouTube channels like My Name Is Byf and Myelin Games, as they both regularly update their channels with summaries and breakdowns of the newest lore for Destiny. (My preference is My Name Is Byf, but that is not a knock on Myelin Games in the slightest, it's just personal preference.) It's in a sort of post-post-apocalyptic setting, after Earth was visited by a benevolent entity called the Traveler, leading to a Golden Age, but one which ultimately ended when the Traveler's nemesis came and wrecked everything, in an apocalypse called 'the Collapse.' In the aftermath, the Traveler released pseudo-magical robot drones called 'Ghosts,' which found people capable of wielding a "paracausal force" (read: space magic) called the Light. These Lightbearers have come to be called Guardians and defend what's left of humanity. In recent years in the setting, Guardians have begun wielding the diametrically-opposed paracausal force of the Darkness, after the Traveler's enemy, the Black Fleet, arrived again. The Witch Queen expansion further expanded on the Darkness and its heavies. Some of this will come up in this story.

Summarizing the Doom lore is at once easier and about as difficult. At its core, Doom is about a lone space marine going on a one-man crusade against the forces of Hell. Doom 2016 and Doom Eternal expanded on it a bit more by turning the player character into an almost mythical warrior called the Doom Slayer. Eternal and its DLC The Ancient Gods went further with it by revealing exactly who the Doom Slayer was, but any more details would become massive spoilers. It probably won't be too necessary for you to be familiar with the lore of the Doom Slayer for this story, since I'm going to be adapting it and modifying it to fit the framework and narrative I'll be telling.

Timeline-wise compared to Slayer, this is set a couple of years afterward. Slayer was set during the conclusion of Destiny 2: Forsaken, just before Shadowkeep (late Season of Opulence), while Eternal is going to be during Destiny 2: The Witch Queen (early Season of the Risen).


CHAPTER ONE: YOU AGAINST YOU

"Get back out there!" Lord Shaxx's voice boomed in his ear as his Ghost resurrected him. The Titan popped his neck as he checked the breech of his shotgun, angrily yanking the jammed cartridge out before slamming it back in. Nearby, a Warlock was reloading his Service Revolver, and there was a grin in his voice as he admonished him.

"You tried to tank Bazza's shottie, didn't you?" Shaman-9 chuckled. "I know you're a Titan, Morgan, but try not to live down to the stereotype."

Donovan Morgan responded by giving the Warlock a rude gesture, before he swung his CQC-12 up and caught the charging Sunbreaker behind his teammate with a blast to the face. He spun around, racking a fresh cartridge into the chamber and pumping it into the chest of the Warlock that had rounded the corner. The enemy staggered, then went down in a crumpled heap as Morgan closed and cracked him across the face with the stock of his shotgun.

"Two for one!" Shaxx laughed in his ear.

"Before you go lecturing me, Shay, you should make sure we're clear first." Morgan collected some ammo that the enemies had dropped, his Ghost automatically synthesizing fresh cartridges for his shotgun. He reloaded as he threw a barricade up to cover the corner.

Shaman nodded, slightly shaken. "Fair point. Talking's not a free action," he muttered, before gesturing. "Shall we?"

Morgan nodded, stowing his shotgun as he drew his auto rifle. "Rega, Wahei, how's it looking out there?"

"I'm keeping Korsana guessing so far," the other Warlock's voice was bright and cheerful. "I don't think she quite understands how to deal with a Voidwalker on my level. She's good, and she's stealthy as hell, but I've got practice dealing with Void-wielding enemies, and you can't really hide from someone who can see past illusions, but she's still good enough that-"

Her rambling was interrupted by the trademark sound of a linear fusion rifle firing, and a startled yelp from Wahei. Then there was the crack of a sniper rifle, before another notice popped on Morgan's feed, indicating an enemy down. Rega-7's voice sighed. "Not the time, Wahei."

"Behind you," Wahei remarked, laconically, before her own scout rifle popped one, twice, three times, and another notice popped on the feed.

Morgan turned to Shaman. "Let's stick together, rush their landing zone." He stepped out into the hallway. The Skyline arena complex was more worn than he remembered, but he still knew its lanes and choke points by heart. He'd been sad when Shaxx had pulled the Crucible out of the area in the wake of the Red War. Somehow it had never been reclaimed, between rebuilding work in the Last City and the various crises that kept arising every few months. Despite demands for it from other Guardians, it simply hadn't been a priority, and no one told Lord Shaxx what to do.

It had been a little more than a year and a half ago that the Black Fleet had arrived, changing the solar system forever. The ominous Pyramids had ringed the system, and several larger ones had parked themselves over various worlds and moons. Mars had been one of them. All Vanguard forces had evacuated, and then the worlds the Pyramids had 'claimed' simply... vanished. Nothing had been left but an impenetrable gravitational anomaly.

Then, about a month ago, Mars had returned from its absence, but not unscarred. There were strange, shimmering scars in the southern hemisphere, like windows into another time, showing Mars as it had been during the Golden Age. But even this wonder had been overshadowed by another new threat.

Morgan sighed. This was the lot of the Guardians: for every wonder and mystery they uncovered, another threat loomed alongside it. It was wearying. But Shaxx had taken advantage of the return, sending his Redjacks to secure Skyline for a Crucible arena. This had not been without risk. Skyline was in Freehold, right there in Meridian Bay, a region which rebellious Cabal forces had claimed for themselves, and which they defended vigorously. But Shaxx had never been shy about claiming arenas for the Crucible in hostile territory. There had been no less than two arenas he'd claimed on board the Hive Dreadnought, for crying out loud.

Morgan led the way down the lane, his auto rifle up as he advanced, but he paused as some of the lights in the arena flickered, and he almost swore he saw a ripple of energy. "Eyes up," he said into the comms. "Anyone else see that?"

"I saw it," Rega confirmed. "Wahei?"

"Same. Strange. Vizier's picking up some energy fluctuations." The Warlock sounded thoughtful. "Odd. I haven't seen energy signatures like this since-" She was cut off as an enemy auto rifle went off. "-do you mind?!" she snapped to someone on her end. "I'm trying to-" There was a static in her comm, before a detonation went off. "-honestly, never interrupt a Warlock mid-investigation!"

Shaman-9 tapped Morgan on the arm. "I'll try to raise Shaxx on the comms. See if he spotted anything."

"Good luck with that," the Titan shook his head. "He'll just tell you to get back out there and keep fighting. Oh, and to-"

"'Use more grenades!'" they chorused.


Lord Shaxx stood before the grand monitors of the Crucible Control Center, arms akimbo as per default. The towering Titan's helmeted gaze swept over the various camera feeds, calling out kills and bellowing out encouragement and remonstrations in equal measure, and at equal volume. He was famous- notorious, almost- for his volume, which only had one setting, which was loud. Around him, various working frames and a few Lightless civilian workers were flicking through the feeds and adjusting the match statistics, which were displayed on one monitor to Shaxx's right. One team, designated Alpha Team, was highlighted in blue, the other, designated Bravo Team, was in red. Each Guardian's selected emblem was displayed next to their name, and a summary of their selected loadout for the match was listed under their name as well.

"Your spirit is unrivaled!" Shaxx shouted over the comm to one of the fighters. "Show me more!"

"Wahei Ohr is doing well, then?"

Shaxx turned sharply to regard the woman who had stepped up beside him, regarding the feeds with her hands clasped behind her back. Brown-skinned and crooked-nosed, she did not look up at him, but was continuing to watch the monitors. She wore a Warlock's robes, with the badge of the Cormorant Seal affixed to the front. Shaxx simply harrumphed and turned back to the feeds himself. "Aunor Mahal. What brings the Praxic Order by today?"

Aunor shrugged mildly. "Simply keeping an eye on some of my regular headaches."

"Warlock Ohr is a Guardian of whom I can't speak highly enough," Shaxx retorted. He considered this. "But she doesn't spend enough time in the Crucible."

The Praxic Warlock snorted. "If a Guardian spent their every waking moment in the Crucible, you would still complain they needed to sleep," she pointed out.

"Your point being?"

Aunor sighed. "Ohr and Morgan have been recurring issues for my Order. He spends too much time, for my liking, with the Drifter. And Ohr... well, her regular 'quests for insight' lead her to dangerous places and in pursuit of dangerous knowledge." She watched the feeds. "And that's leaving aside their new abilities."

"Be careful, Mahal," Shaxx warned her. "Too much thinking like that, and you'll end up like Shayura."

Her eyes blazed as she finally snapped her gaze to him. "I'm not murdering innocents, Lord Shaxx, so I'll thank you not to make that comparison!"

"I will make any comparison I like," the Crucible Master rumbled. "Much as you might hate it, Mahal, this Stasis power is here to stay. The genie is out of the bottle. The best we can do is learn to manage it. And rely on people like you and the rest of the Praxic Order to monitor the Guardians to make sure they don't succumb to corruption."

Aunor gave a harrumph of her own, before her eyes narrowed. "Wait. What's that?"

"Power fluctuation," one of the civilian workers answered. "We see them every now and then. Nothing to worry about."

"Not that," she pointed to the feed on one of the frames' stations. "There. Inbound signature from the southeast."

Shaxx leaned forward to see for himself. "Lucan," he addressed the frame. "What are we seeing there?"

Lucan 99-40 lifted its head. "Incoming heat signature." Its head twitched as it considered its station's readouts. "Correction. Multiple signatures. Outlines match framework of Cabal troop transport vehicle, 'Harvester'-class. Also, one signature outline matches framwork of Cabal capital ship, 'Carrier'-class."

Another civilian worker grimaced. "We knew it was only a matter of time before the Cabal insurgents in Meridian Bay responded to our presence, sir."

Lord Shaxx nodded, and toggled into the general comm frequency for the Crucible fighters. "Eyes up, Guardians! Incoming enemy forces from the southeast! The Cabal are on the move!"


Rega-7 paused as the Crucible handler's voice boomed over the comm, lowering her hand cannon from the face of Bazza, on of the Hunters on Bravo Team. "We'll have to resume this another time," the Exo said as she holstered her gun, unslinging her sniper rifle.

Bazza nodded behind the mask of his Scatterhorn mask, and toggled into his comm. "Bazza to Fireteam Enoch. Stand down the match. We'll try again some other time. Let's put the rhinos down before they sight us in for orbital bombardment."

She nodded to him, then quickly leapt up to a high vantage point, hunkering down as she sighted on the incoming Cabal transports. "Anyone else got some range weapons?"

"Got an LFR," Bravo's Korsana remarked. "And a bow for when they get closer."

Rega nodded. "Okay. I'll see if I can snipe through the windscreen, but otherwise, we may just have to wait for them to drop troops. Let Shaman and Reese hit them first. Then we sweep and clear until we can get a chance to transmat out."

"Wahei, some void 'nades would be useful here," Morgan cut in. There was a pause. "...Wahei?"

"Hm? What?" The Voidwalker sounded distracted. "Sorry, still trying to figure out what the story is with these power fluctuations. It doesn't look like degradation damage to the power grid, like you'd expect from the ruins of a Golden Age city that got buried in centuries worth of dust storms, plus whatever might have happened after the Black Fleet pulled it out of existence. It's almost as though there's some kind of interference from an external source, but given Golden Age construction, there shouldn't be anything capable of disrupting it in that way-"

"Not the time, Wahei," Rega admonished her.

"No, wait, I'm getting to the point." Wahei took a deep breath. "The only thing that should have caused something like that is something paracausal."

The Hunter waited for a moment, then not so patiently pointed out, "Yes. And there are eight Guardians up here-"

"But that's what I'm saying, Skyline's never had a fluctuation like that up here before, even when there were twelve Guardians running around. Something else is causing this!"

"We don't have time to figure this out right now, Wahei!" The Cabal transports were swooping into position, hoevering above the balconies overlooking the Martian dunes. Rega leaned into her scope and sighted on the Psion piloting the nearest one, then squeezed the trigger. The dura-glass spiderwebbed, and she saw the pilot go into a panic, the ship swinging about chaotically, causing the Cabal Legionaries that dropped from the chutes to fall less gracefully than usual, if anything the towering aliens did could be called "graceful."

Rega fired again, and saw the Psion's head snap back. The transport listed heavily to one side and plunged out of sight into the dunes. "Shay, send it!" There was the metallic chunk of Shaman's Jötunn firing, and a blast of fire erupted in the middle of the disoriented Cabal, who were sent flying, several of them falling limp and not moving. By the time the smoke cleared from the explosion, another Cabal transport had swept in, but this time they dropped their Phalanxes out first, deploying their shields and providing cover for their Legionaries as they followed suit.

It might have worked, had Bazza not suddenly blitzed in out of nowhere, trailing bolts of lightning behind him, his Arc Staff spinning as he scythed the Legionaries out of the air as he passed, seemingly came to a halt in mid air, then came slamming down with a hammer-like swing of the staff, the shockwave clearing out the Phalanxes. Rega's sniper rifle cracked twice more, and another pilot slumped and dragged its transport into oblivion over the side.

"Eyes up, Guardians!" Shaxx was booming over the comm again. "We're detecting launches from the carrier! Drop pods incoming!"

Bazza had just enough time to look up and swear before the drop pod landed on him, flattening him. The pod dissolved, and a pair of Cabal Colossi squared up. One hefted a chain cannon whose barrels were already spinning up, while the other heaved a slug thrower up on its hip, beginning to fire high-velocity charges toward any Guardian it could see.

Korsana stood from her position, still unnoticed by the Cabal, beginning to draw her Shadowshot, when she flinched as a red laser flicked past her eye. She instinctively ducked, which was the only reason the sniper shot didn't ventilate her helmet. "Rega, we have snipers! Didn't see where they were!"

"All Lights, eyes up!" Rega barked. "They're flanking us! Cover one another and let's clear 'em out!" She paused to fire her sniper at another incoming transport, then flipped to the other comm. "Rega-7 to Tower, do we have any other forces in the region that could provide assistance?"

"Tower to Rega-7. This is Aunor Mahal, I am here monitoring the situation. We have no immediate forces that we can spare. Attempting to find forces in wider field, but you might be on your own."

Rega sighed. "Copy, Tower. We'll hold the fort until we can transmat out." Back in the local comm, she reported, "All Lights, dig in. Hold the line."

She listened over the comm as the other Guardians reported in their kills or sightings of incoming forces. Rega couldn't spare her ammo to take out the transport pilots, especially not as the distant carrier seemed content to just rain drop pods with more troops. The pair of Colossi were still keeping the landing area clear for drop pods and the occasional transport, until a flashbang went off in their faces, stunning them long enough for Morgan to step into view, hefting up his own heavy machine gun. Their vision cleared just as his barrels finished spinning up, a shield of energy surrounding him as he began to unload a steady volley of high-caliber rounds into the massed ranks of the Cabal.


But inside the Skyline complex, Wahei Ohr was distracted. Warlocks such as her were naturally more inclined to detect the shifting of energy, the ebbs and the flows and similar. Warlocks known as Voidwalkers were more sensitive than that, being balanced in those liminal spaces, less tethered by time and space. And Wahei was one of the foremost Voidwalkers alive. Ikora Rey, the Warlock Vanguard, was one of the most powerful Guardians alive, but even she admitted that Wahei's talent with the Void surpassed hers.

The lights and holo-displays throughout the derelict Clovis Bray Health Center that compromised the main section of the Skyline Crucible arena were flickering non-stop now, but every scan that Wahei made told her that the power grid had no breaks that could be causing such fluctuations. Stowing her scout rifle, she pulled out a long loop of leather cord, knotted at odd intervals, and festooned with hand-carved beads of various materials. She coiled this around her fingers and began to manipulate the cord, pulling and twisting it like a cat's cradle, while simultaneously moving the beads like she were using some abstract abacus. She turned slowly, until she faced an empty patch of floor space near the holographic display of Mars in the center of the complex.

"What is this...?" she mused aloud, until she felt a strange tickle in her mind. Wahei spun, her scout rifle up and fired off a quick salvo, but the Cabal Psion that she glimpsed spun aside, its singular eye glaring at her as it raised a three-fingered hand and flicked its digits. She felt a sudden wave of telekinetic force hurl her backward, but she caught herself in mid-air, using her Light to right herself and slow her descent. She flicked her wrist, the beaded cord wrapping itself around her arm so it wouldn't hang free, and then regarded the Psion again.

Psions were naturally smaller than the standard Cabal, owing to their being a completely different race. Where Cabal were heavy, eight-foot-tall brutes, the Psion were slender, monocular creatures with egg-like craniums, and as their name implied, possessed great psychic abilities. The armor this one wore looked different than the standard, with a pair of fabric strips hanging from the shoulders, like a bifurcated cape, its helmet sporting a twin-pronged crest that rose up behind its head.

"All Lights, be advised, we have a Flayer on the field!" Wahei quickly wrapped herself in Void Light and used it to Blink away as the Psion Flayer raised its weapon, firing a flurry of mini rockets toward her, even as she reappeared on the far side of the holo-display. She cursed as the explosions from the rockets impacting the wall sent her sprawling, but she scrambled to cover. Of course it would have been able to predict her arrival point. Psion Flayers were more powerful than their standard brethren by an order of magnitude, their psychic abilities nearly unquantifiable, even being capable of distorting reality around them.

The Voidwalker's Blink ability allowed them to teleport over short ranges, and Wahei had used it to great effect over her time as a Guardian, enemies being generally unable to predict where she'd show up. But a Psion Flayer could read the energy flows better than she could, could use that power to 'see' where she would go, and possibly even read her thoughts as well.

She took a breath to clear her thoughts and center herself. She could use Stasis, she reckoned, to shield herself from the Flayer's physical sight, and just think quickly enough to muddle its psychic sight that she could teleport somewhere it wasn't expecting. She tried to read the energy flows herself, tried to ignore the distortion that the Flayer presented to it, and also to ignore the fluctuations she'd been tracking-

She blinked, and Wahei wondered. Could the Flayer be the cause of all the fluctuations? Their power was great enough that it could be causing them, but no, wait. The Psion Flayer hadn't been here until now, had it? And to what purpose would it be doing it here? Her thoughts were racing, and she perceived something in her mind, like a swarm of jagged yellow shards of broken glass. Mocking. The Flayer was laughing at her.

And in that moment that its mind touched hers, she felt it. And her head snapped up, looking over the side of her cover, so that her deep blue luminous eyes met its singular gaze. The Flayer's eye wasn't orange, like all of its race. It was green. A shimmering hue like a disease. She saw this, and then perceived the flows of energy around the Psion, and these two were perceived in her mind's eye with the same miasmatic green glow.

"Wrathborn," she spat. This wasn't just any Psion Flayer. This was a Flayer whose will had been subverted to the cause of the Hive God of War.

Again, the flicker of jagged yellow shards in her mind, as the Flayer raised a hand, bending the light around it as it reached out to manipulate the energy flows. Around them, the holo-graphic display flashed and glitched madly, sparks beginning to fly as the Wrathborn Flayer reached through the veil and twisted.

Wahei was just able to make out an intent through the psychic storm swirling around her. I dedicate these deaths to the War-Bringer, She Whose March Is Inexorable. The psychic laughter got sharper, and Wahei grimaced against the pressure in her head. The Flayer's telepathic voice grew louder as it raised both hands now, a rent in the fabric of space forming before it. All tithes to Xivu Arath-

A portal opened, rimmed in a sanguine hue. A body fell through and landed flat on the floor at the feet of the Psion, its chitinous covering marking it unquestionably as Hive. Its size, nearly ten feet tall, marked it unquestionably as a potent warrior, and the blackened hue of the adamantine armor marked it as an Abyssal Champion, one of the strongest warriors in Hive culture.

But the oozing hole where the Abyssal's face should have been was not as expected. The Wrathborn Flayer stepped back in surprise, before turning its gaze up to the portal, as another figure leapt down, making sure to bring his foot down firmly into what was left of the Abyssal's skull.


Trapped. Sealed away from mortal plane. Surrounded by the Enemy. Stared down by a Sovereign.

So it goes. Had been here before. Had not stopped then. Will not stop now.

Cut off from the Light. Had fought Enemy without before. Had not stopped then. Will not stop now.

Gun. Fist. Knife. Enough.

Enemy had fallen before him. As they always had. As they always would. Unceasing.

A neverending tide of thrall. A neverending slaughter fed to him. A neverending battle.

One witch dead. Another witch lives. And a Sovereign above mocking. So it goes.

Hate. Rage. Power. Doom.

Enemy had retreated. Pursuit had begun. Deeper into Enemy territory. Unrelenting.

Repaired armor on the match. Grafted knife to gauntlet on the march. Modded gun on the march.

Did not eat. Did not sleep. Did not stop. No time for fatigue.

Only time to kill. Only time to rip. Only time to tear.

Always. Until it is done.

Lost track of time. Did not matter. Only the war mattered.

Sovereign vanished. Did not matter. Would find them again.

An Abyssal challenged. Welcomed the fight. Ending inevitable. Click click, boom boom.

Body fell as a portal opened. Did not matter. Confirm the kill.

Leap. Drop. Stomp. Smash.

Someplace new. Mortal plane again. Cold and dusty and windy.

Took in the scents. Familiar. Strange. A creature stands there.

Skinny. One eye. Not the Enemy. But smelt like them.

Tainted. Turned. Puppet.


The huge man that had dropped from the portal rose slowly from the smashed remains of the Abyssal, his helmeted gaze locking on that of the Psion Flayer's in kind. The Flayer panicked, raising its hand and twisting energy again, but the big man snapped a fist out and grabbed the Psion by the throat, lifting it bodily off the ground. He took in a single, deep inhalation through his nose, and then just began to squeeze.

The Flayer let out a discordant wail, part audible, part psychic, clawing at the iron grip at its throat, scratching ineffectually at the man's helmet. Its eye bulged, saliva spraying as it desperately gasped for air. Still the hand just tightened, and tightened, and tightened.

With a gruesome wet pop, the Flayer's head came off completely, and its body tumbled from the unclenching fingers. Wahei rose, removing her helmet, eyes wide as she beheld the man that had emerged from the portal. Taller even than Morgan, who was not a small man, he stood in green plate armor, scratched and pitted in places. One gauntleted forearm sported a wicked blade attached to the outside. Shoved into a holster on his hip was a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun, and stowed on his back was a high-tech and high-potency energy weapon. His head was obscured by a nigh-opaque helmet, through which the vaguest outline of a face could be made out.

It had been more than two years since she'd seen him disappear through a portal to the Ascendant Plane in pursuit of the Queen of Chains. But he had been singularly unforgettable in the short time she'd known him.

The Slayer had returned.

END CHAPTER ONE


Afterword: Can't give you too much of a good thing all at once! But I figure I'll get started by giving you this much. I have a good general outline of events in mind. Including a few interactions I know some people are waiting to see.