FORTRESS OF DOOM
RIPATORIUM
ARENA: FORSAKEN
"Fascinating," Dr. Samuel Hayden replied, having been listening to Samus Aran's recounting of her previous endeavors. She and the Slayer leaned against a wall in the now-empty Ripatorium arena, having completed their fifth round for the day. Samus had come to appreciate the atmosphere in the Sentinel arena 'Forsaken,' and thus here they relaxed after yet another gruelling battle. Hayden participated in the conversation, for once - never invited, but typically always listening. "You have your own experience with...controversial energy sources, then."
"A little too much if you ask me," Samus said, shuddering at the memory. "Nothing says 'mistake' better than throwing up hazardous material more radioactive than nuclear waste, that your own body generates."
"Argent Energy is the hot commodity here," Hayden explained, prompting a look from the Doom Slayer at the quietly storming sky where Hayden's voice came from, as if he made up the heavens. "It flows through the bodies of the demons, and powers many a civilization's greatest wonders...from ancient Sentinel battle stations to the most powerful weaponry man has ever seen...in a refined state, at least. The majority of it that exists in this solar system is a synthetic reproduction, now - excluding this fortress' power source."
"And we're going to keep it that way," the Slayer interjected. Samus could tell by the intense look in his eyes that Argent was a bit of a touchy subject for the man - though scans on his weaponry and armor indicated it would remain a part of his life as long as he fought against Hell.
"I'm sure you've noticed its potency in combat," Hayden added, continuing in spite of the Slayer. "I'm curious as to how your adaptable Varia Suit would interface with the technology…"
"And I'm good, thanks," Samus said quickly, glancing reassuringly at the man beside her. "Think I've had more than enough sketchy power juice."
"I jest," Samuel said, chuckling to himself. "The Chozo you speak of have done wonderous things based on observations of your armor and ability alone. I'm confident you're more than capable on your own."
"Thanks, Sam," Samus said, a bit of surprise in her voice hearing Samuel's praise. "Man, that feels weird to say. "Sam...Sammy. Those are nicknames my...friends...would call me." She visibly deflated, but chuckled weakly.
"Friends…?" The Slayer asked, surprising Samus with a topic she wouldn't think he'd care to discuss.
"Y-yeah," she said, slightly taken aback. "I...didn't go into detail, but they were the other Hunters I mentioned."
"They were close," he said, understanding her reluctance to include them in her story.
"They were."
And then they stood silently, for a while. It was only a matter of time before Samus continued.
"Rundas, Gandrayda, and Ghor were their names. They were the only people I've let into my life for a long time," she sighed, sliding down the wall to sit down as she removed her helmet. The Slayer reciprocated her gesture.
"Rundas was the 'cool' one, so to speak," Samus said, smiling somewhat. "That was a joke," she explained, laughing a little to herself. "He had ice powers...that's totally a joke he'd make and he was such a colossal dork for it. Big guy, looked intimidating but was a total sweetheart. Kinda reminds me of someone," she said, this time catching the Slayer off-guard as he quickly looked away, scratching his head. "We'd always have all these little contests over the dumbest things…and even when I lost, he'd find some way to spin it into something sweet for me."
. . .
"Come on Sam," the towering Phrygian play-whined in a tone that betrayed his deep, bassy, reverb-laden voice. "The best stir-fried udon you've ever had? You don't have to flatter me."
"Don't act like you don't love it," Samus hastily replied in an accusatory tone, her mouth full of, indeed, the best stir-fried udon she'd ever had. Samus had lost their most recent race on the last mission, and as was customary, he got to choose where they went for lunch afterward. She hadn't ever expected him to pick his own place, let alone COOK for her. This was her second bowl already, there was no reason this cocky man-child had any right to make noodles half as good as these…!
Rundas laughed at her, watching her tackle his cooking like a starving animal. "I'm starting to think I understand the 'eats like a bird' phrase incorrectly," he jabbed. "Unless birds are supposed to eat like hogs."
"Chill out," Samus replied, though growled realizing her choice of words, which just made Rundas laugh even more. "Not a WORD with the stupid ice puns!"
"Hey, you started it, so I should be freeze to keep it going."
"I'm seriously going to lose my appetite."
"Alright, alright, I'll be ice and cut it out."
"You're LAME!"
"Don't act like you don't love it," he laughed, nudging her shoulder some. Her own suppressed laughter gave her feelings on the matter away.
"Thanks, Rundas…"
"Hey, any time, Sam. Glad you like it. I've got that 'soda' stuff you drink in the fridge, too, I can getcha a can to wash it down..."
"You were planning this, weren't you?" Samus asked, leaning on her elbow as she watched Rundas closely with a smug look on her face.
"I guess it's pretty obvious, now," Rundas admitted, looking away slightly as he got Samus' soda. He slid it across the table to her, sitting down himself to entertain his guest.
"And what if I left you in the dust back there, big guy? You clearly got all this together this morning."
"You wouldn't have," Rundas taunted, leaning back in his seat.
"I could've."
"Nah."
"Hmph," Samus huffed, smiling. He did seem extra-motivated this time around…
"Well…" Rundas began, sitting up slightly and looking back at her. "If you did win, there might've been a bit of poorly-disguised begging and pleading so I wouldn't have to eat this stuff alone tonight."
"Begging and pleading, huh? That a strangely alluring image to me," Samus teased, putting her finger on her chin.
"You took it there, not me," he said, though Samus could tell her suggestive comments flustered him slightly.
"I dunno, Rundas...you bring me to your place after dark, food cooking for me...I didn't think my Grapple Beam had that kind of effect on you." She made a show of drinking nonchalantly from her can.
"Think you've got me confused for Gandrayda, Sam."
Samus choked a little at that line, which got Rundas laughing at her now, though he passed her an extra napkin to clean up with. "You make it so easy."
"Oh, whatever man," she said, laughing along with him as she wiped the spit-up soda from her chin.
They talked and laughed for hours, about this thing and that. From whatever maintenance they had to get done on weapons to bragging about bounties they'd collected, or arguing over who did what in that their mission together that day. When it became too tiring for words anymore, Rundas didn't kick her out, and Samus didn't leave.
"Though...I didn't really count you actually staying this late...I don't have a couch, or anything."
"You have a bed, don't you?"
"Well yeah, but…"
"It's only weird if you make it weird," Samus challenged, yawning as she stepped closer to her rival's bedroom.
Rundas looked at her for a moment, and sighed as he crossed his arms. "Sure, Sam."
. . .
"We might have been rivals, too, but...he always had my back," Samus said, smiling slightly.
The Slayer nodded. It intrigued him greatly to know what kind of warriors the Hunter sided with in days past. In the short time he'd known her, she'd proved herself to be a worthy ally both in and out of battle. That...and this was an opportunity to allow her to vent in another way. It was something she had taught him how to do only recently, on Daisy's last birthday. The value in spilling one's emotions and thoughts had been made apparent to him, and having the opportunity to provide that for the Hunter as well helped make it feel even, in a way.
"Then there was Ghor. We...weren't as close as I was with the others. He always found some way to keep himself occupied with something else, so we didn't spend a whole lot of time together outside of work. Even still, I always appreciated him being there. He looked at everything so analytically, and objectively. He could be cold at times, but in times of distress he'd be the one to keep everyone's head on their shoulders."
She looked up towards the sky, addressing Samuel. "He was a cyborg too, just had his brain. He could be surprisingly gentle at times….above everything he wanted to help the weak, and poor. Some jobs he'd take for free. Hell, sometimes he'd give up some of his bounty money to victims affected by his target."
"Sounds like he was a generous man."
"I wish I could've gotten to know him better."
Samus' tone shifted, as she began to look towards the ground. "And...Gandrayda. Think I learned how to smile thanks to her. Always bustling with energy, pulling pranks and cracking jokes. Even neck-deep into a firefight in some world where the damn planet could be trying to kill you, she'd find some way to keep our spirits up. Even without the others around, she made sure I got to go out and be something other than 'the Galactic Savior' or whatever. It's why she called me 'Sammy.' She and I…"
. . .
"So this is Sammy's room, huh?" Gandrayda asked, giddy with excitement. Her purple, electric body sparked and crackled with all of the energy she had built up, and like a kid in a candy store she bounced from place to place, looking over every little knick knack Samus kept around, from the cello in the corner, to Pyonchi's cage, to her clothing drawers…
"H-hey!" Samus protested, deactivating the Varia Suit as she ran in to try and keep some semblance of privacy with her around.
"Whaaat?" Gandrayda whined in a teasing tone. "It's not like I don't already know what kind of underwear you wear, this 'Zero Suit' leaves zero to the imagination," she pointed out, having moved behind her to get another look and accentuate her point.
Samus grunted with embarrassment, turning around to face the much shorter woman. Gandrayda stood with hands on her hips, as confident and taunting as ever. "10 seconds into letting you on my ship and you're already all over me."
"No, this would be me all over you!"
Without warning she'd jumped up and latched onto Samus, something she'd become quite fond of doing as Samus would always hold her out of fear of the girl falling, without fail. This time was no exception, and for once, Gandrayda had gotten the Hunter in such an intimate, private location…
"G-Gandrayda!" Samus gasped, the girl's legs wrapping around her like a claw, and her arms resting around her shoulders. She instinctively went to hold her, her own arms cradling Gandrayda's upper thighs. "Come on, it's...dangerous in here," Samus sighed, trailing off as her eyes locked with those of her fellow hunter.
"You come on, Sammy, relax. You should know by now that it's always dangerous when I'm around."
Here Samus Aran was again, trapped in the clutches of Hunter Gandrayda. Those same, lavender eyes captivated her as they always had, and that playful, but reassuring voice soothed any semblance of worry or caution away.
"Yeah...and lucky for you, I think I might like danger."
. . .
Samus looked away then, shaking her head. "Sorry. Not trying to make this the Samus Aran Power Hour over here. It's just...I can't stop thinking about them...you know?" While her voice attempted to convey some sense of bravado during all this, she also sounded congested. She wouldn't look at him, and even from the mild distance he sat away from her, he could feel the pain in her heart.
"It's important to remember what they gave you," the Slayer said, moving closer to her. The armor would keep any kind of physical comfort out of the question...but it was a way he knew his presence would be known.
"Yeah...funny how other people can build you up like that." She looked to him now, her faint smile having returned. "You...speak from experience."
"Night Sentinels," he explained, staring into the grass. Visages of brethren long lost to treachery throbbed like phantom pains. "Daisy." His expression lightened, a faint smile on the face beneath the helmet. "Countless others…"
"I know you're technically a bit of an old-timer. A lot of the faces have to blend together when you've been around for millennia."
The Slayer grunted, furrowing his brow as he thought back. He could remember...he would remember. There were faces he'd never forget, no matter how many eons it'd been.
How could he ever forget…?
. . .
Q3DM0 - INTRODUCTION
FIRST TO 5 FRAGS WINS.
"Doom. Crash.
The Gladiator's goal is to get the most frags, or kills.
Fight!"
The Marine had been through countless teleporters. Teleporters across Phobos, across Deimos, Hell, Earth, back, and everything in between. Human teleporters, demon teleporters. He knew what it felt like getting your atoms disassembled and reassembled somewhere else in 50 different ways. However he ended up here, in this foreign, alien...ship? It was something different.
Everything was so bright...Hell, even in all of its boundless cruelty, never had such an abundance of raw LED ocular assault. Voices in his head had become a common occurrence by that point. He needed something to keep him company down there, after all. Whether they were of his own imagination, or if they were spirits of the damned, he no longer knew nor cared.
He nearly shot the figure standing in front of him...before realizing it to be a mirror. How long had it been since he'd looked into a functioning mirror? He could barely even remember what this own face looked like, underneath the armor. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Actually, he didn't care. He did notice the firearm in his hands wasn't the old reliable shotgun he remembered carrying. Didn't matter. It'd kill what he needed to.
Past the mirror was a teleporter - the kind he was used to going through. Even better, he could see through this one before he blindly leaped into it. Got him killed, once. It seemed to lead into another part of the station, and walking through was as smooth as if it were a doorway.
"Welcome to the Arenas Eternal, brave warrior, yadda yadda..."
A feminine voice from his immediate right, down the hall. It was a woman...Demon? Maybe. It was always demons. He couldn't remember a time when it wasn't demons.
"You're new here, and everybody's gotta..." she said, trailing off as she shifted her attention to man thrust upon her tutorial arena. She lowered her weapon slightly, the same kind of weapon he had appeared with. Her armor...it was UAC Security, without a doubt. Down to the exact same helmet design. Hers was blue and grey to his greens, Strange, the mirror was one room back. The woman leaned in to inspect the man - still keeping her distance. "You're...like me. I didn't think we'd ever see anybody else from our realm."
"Where am I? If this is another of Hell's tricks, you demons don't stand a chance against me. Destruction and turmoil are my companions!"
"And he's a total loon. Course," the woman said with a sigh. "Still...the fact that you're here means you've got some potential, greenie. Most of the newbies they send me get some basic warmup before I set them on their way. But you feel...different. We're going to spend some quality time together, capiche? This next arena is built for a lot more than just two people, but you're about to get the whole rundown while I'm fragging some sense back into you. Hey, request to change arenas!" Crash yelled to no one visible in the area.
"Request granted."
"I want Q3DM14: Grim Dungeons! Deathmatch, 15 Frags…"
. . .
"You've never even fought in an arena before, have you?"
The man the Masters simply referred to as Doom stopped in his tracks, having just reached the end of a hallway he'd been carefully traversing. He'd stop every couple of steps to inspect the walls, awaiting an ambush at any moment, almost tasting the hordes that had to spill out eventually. The pentagram in the iron grating he walked across didn't ease his suspicion. Now though, that question came from a voice above. The last thing he saw was the woman from before jumping down at him, holding the biggest double-barrelled shotgun he'd ever seen. Seeing her up close only made it more apparent that her armor was inexplicably similar to his, though slimmer and gleaming with cobalt steel. No sign of her humanity shed through the broken static in her visor...though her voice and figure were full of it. If this was still Hell, they were using tactics he'd never seen before to try and break his will, distract him. Or maybe he was dreaming again. Hell was like a dream...a nightmare you'd always think you'd woken up from, before getting thrust back into the fiery pits of reality.
A pull of the trigger and he was blown against the wall, everything starting to fade black as it only had once before. "Guess it's back to Hell with me," he sputtered out in those last, agonizing moments. "It never ends..."
'You're right about one thing," Crash said, walking up to his crumpled body and pumping her shotgun. "It never ends."
BOOM
"But I think you'll miss Hell after you've been here long enough."
"Crash has taken the lead."
. . .
"That's...my corpse," Doom observed, looking over what remained of his...previous...body.
Crash put a hand on her hip. "Did your UAC not have any kind of, I dunno, VR programs, simulators, anything for Space Marine combat training? This whole life-and-respawn thing should be pretty straightforward."
"You...killed me. I'm going to kill you back."
"That's the name of the game, Looney. Gonna have to catch me, first. And maybe pick up a bigger gun - you'll find 'em scattered around the Arena..."
. . .
Q3TOURNEY4 - VERTICAL VENGEANCE
GAME OVER. FRAG LIMIT REACHED.
BLUE TEAM - DOOM, CRASH, WINS.
FINAL SCORE: 20-18
"Well I'll be damned," Crash said, clenching her teeth as she fixed up a dislocated shoulder bone. "Me and you are throwing hands with Anarki and Slash! Anarki's been a tier 4 Arena Lord for the last...well, I'm sure you've noticed but time kinda doesn't mean jack shit here, so hell if I know. But STILL. You're going places, Greenie."
A girl decked out in punk gear and cybernetics crossed her arms as she and her partner met back up with the duo they'd lost to. She was Slash. Her partner, Anarki, looked much the same - though he wore a small VR headset obscuring his eyes, and his mouth was curiously stitched together. Slash skated around on hover skates, while Anarki surfed on a hoverboard. Like Doom and Crash, it was clear they were plucked from the same bush. "I'm sure it's probably thanks to all the special attention you've been giving your boyfriend Schitzo here, Crash," Slash scoffed. "What's the trainer doing participating so much, anyway?"
Crash laughed a bit to herself. "We haven't had a newbie since him, so I've got all the time in the world to kick your ass. Damn, I forgot how good it feels to take the training wheels off sometime!"
Doom growled, cracking his knuckles. "I've been to Hell...you toads are nothing!"
"You're the gr33n one, Sp4ce Mar1ne," Anarki retorted, speaking through a modulator on his body. He was always one to respond to Doom's oft-nonsensical banter.
"You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me, Cyber Scarecrow. Me and Shiny-butt wiped the floor with you."
"Shiny-butt?!" both Slash and Crash exclaimed, the former nearly bursting with laughter and the latter from embarrassment.
"Oh, that is s0 your n3w nickn4me, Teach," Anarki laughed, he and Slash cracking up.
"Yeah, wait till Mynx and the guys hear about this," Slash teased, prompting Crash to raise her Gauntlet-clad fist at her.
"Not a word…! D-Doom!" she complained, turning to him, now.
"What...? It is! The light reflecting off of it gets into my eyes."
"Schizo makes a good point, Shiny-butt," Slash agreed. "I never did understand the blinding metal ass-fabric. Unless you're trying to blind us. See, that's how we lost!"
"No johns, Slash! And quit calling me that!"
. . .
Q3DM7 - TEMPLE OF RETRIBUTION
DOWNTIME
"The trick is to see every location as an arena," Crash instructed. She would run laps around the arena, each time incorporating a different movement strategy or route, and had Doom replicate it to a T. "Some of the places the Vadrigar have us compete in were only recently converted, so they might not be as abstract as the older arenas, capiche? And once you start seeing arenas everywhere," she explained, using a rocket's explosion to propel herself up to a higher walkway, skipping a staircase entirely. "You start figuring out how to flow through them, even if they aren't familiar."
"You blew yourself up. And you call me crazy."
"Don't be a baby, Doom, you'll survive. And there's recovery up here. You always have to move and fight like recovery is just a few feet away from you."
Doom looked at her for a moment, before shrugging and giving it a go. He nailed the rocket-jump on his first try, and continued on her trail. "Who are the Vadrigar?"
"The Arena Masters. A race of beings beyond our power or comprehension, that've gathered us here to fight for their everlasting amusement. At least, that's what we can gather. They aren't exactly direct when it comes to talking about anything other than the arenas…but they're also pretty hands-off about how we set up our battles, as long as it gets done. We get divided into 7 tiers based on our performance, with the Master, Xaero, at the top. The only time anyone's seen a Vadrigar show up is when a new Arena Master gets crowned...and that's only happened once for as long as I can remember."
"So the Master is the key."
"That's a long, dark road headed straight for the five stages of grief, Doom. Believe me when I say we've all thought the same thing, and sooner or later you just come to grips with the fact that, for better or for worse, this is home now." She stopped running, turning to face the man. "It ain't all bad...no need to eat, drink, or sleep unless we want to. Long as we get our fights in - and if we don't, we just suddenly end up target practice for someone else for a round or two until we start fighting back, and the cycle repeats. There's a reason it's called the Arena Eternal."
"Fine. I have much to dwell on. For now, keep running, Crash."
"Huh...finally figured out my name. Just...don't do anything stupid, partner."
. . .
"Well...done...Master Doom."
Xaero's body became limp, the last of countless lifetimes worth of fighting spirit having finally been writhed from his ancient body. Tier Z was now home to a new, sole Arena Lord...a shakeup that hadn't been seen in countless ages.
The arena began to fade away into void, and a cloaked figure that dwarved Doom in size appeared before him - as was customary when the highest ranked Arena Lord would be defeated.
"Congratulations, Doom. You have proven yourself the most skilled warrior in the Arena Eternal, and your name will be known to countless champions of a thousand realms. As a Tier Z combatant, you will acquire special privileges that should enhance…"
"Kiss my ammo belt."
"…"
"You're here. And so am I. Don't you grow tired of just watching the violence? Your sentry did, it's become one of us. My job's done here...gotta move on...too many demons. You're in my way."
"You will not be moving on anywhere. You are here because I called you here. You will remain here because I see to it that you do. Do not tempt me to show you your place...it is something every warrior learns in time."
"My teacher told me I was a good learner...why don't we expedite the process?"
"You realize I control every aspect of this place. The arena we battle in, the resources I'm given. I would destroy you without effort, and force you to endure my wrath until you understood who's in charge here."
"You entertain my proposal...perhaps the only reason the Vadrigar are so devoid of understanding...is because the guy handling us is too much of a coward to put his money where his mouth is.
"ENOUGH. You seek unrelenting death and torment for your arrogance...then I will grant it to you."
? - Final Resting Place
"You will live out an everlasting eternity of torture and defeat at my hands!"
. . .
"A lot of those memories are fuzzy...mind wasn't all there. Got worse when I went back to Hell. Got better with the Sentinels. And...better meeting you. You remind me of her."
"Personality-wise, or the shiny butt thing?" Samus asked, snorting.
"Maybe a little of both," the Slayer admitted, the both of them getting a decent laugh out of it.
To some extent, it felt like yet another weight was lifted from the burden they carried. The memory of comrades from times past would be forever cherished, strengthening their hearts and minds so that their wills would never be broken. Time would nurture this new bond the Hunter and the Slayer had formed, one which had already begun to fill voids once thought insatiable.