Chapter 1: Monstrous Saviors
Pandemonium gripped the humans. Scores rushed out of the hospital (that's what he thought the term was). Some limped, others clasped onto wounds on other body parts. Their moans and screams were barely audible over the sirens blaring.
Diabolico felt weird in this chaos. Perhaps because he wasn't the instigator in this instance? Feelings aside, he had a task to complete. Accomplishment that required knowledge.
Humans fled in droves as Diabolico rounded the gate to the entrance. A few acknowledged him with frightened glances, before turning their gaze to the wilderness ahead. Whatever was happening was beyond a typical disaster.
He grabbed the nearest human as gently as possible. This one, a female, was in shock. Her lips quivered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Brown hair fell wildly from an almost undone ponytail. Blood stained her garments. A tactful approach was required.
"Fair lady," Diabolico started, right hand outstretched to the building "May you tell me what's happening here?"
She screamed. Curses, or pleas, were invoked in a language unfamiliar to Diabolico.
The demon sorcerer huffed and released the "lady." She ran with such frantic vigor as to make a hunted doe envious.
He continued onwards, passing a thinning crowd. The gate, an iron barrier, was torn down.
The land in closest vicinity to the structure was altered. Black rock pathways, those modern humans favored for their various metal chariots (automobiles, Diabolico believed was the term), covered the vicinity. Yellow and white lines, painted onto the pathways in various lengths and widths, provided some direction that he barely comprehended. "Automobiles" in various dimensions and shades sat, mostly divided with more white lines.
Only small portions were left green, with bushes, flowers, or trees used to beautify the human-made landscape. The metal light poles that curved towards the top lauded over even the tallest trees, though. It amazed Diabolico how much, like the demons, humans altered nature to serve their ends.
Death had left him in a nostalgic, philosophical mood.
Explosions, an inferno laced with automobile parts, went off further down the parking lot, towards the entrance. Battle cries and screams urged Diabolico onwards. He took the most straight forward path: an obtuse-angled beeline, jumping over automobiles.
The metal groaned under Diabolico's footsteps and jumps. As he neared his acrobatic act's end, he saw the battle's extent.
A cry, like the collective hiss of a locust swarm, blurted over the inferno. Antennas twitched around dome-shaped chitin craniums. Black eyes like huge orbs of onyx appeared to burn with the automobiles' flames' reflection. The same dark colored armor segments, white fur sprouting between said segments, protected their appendages. Mouths that appeared human were peeled back showing elongated sharp teeth. Tanzanite chests and shoulder guards were their only beautiful aspect.
Ants, Diabolico thought. They resemble ants.
Human survivors huddled as close to the building as possible. Their only protection was three, non-ant monsters. This trio, despite a fierce resistance, faced overwhelming numbers. Numbers focused on their destruction.
A surprise attack may divert that focus, though.
Diabolico spread out his wings, chanting in Bansheeric. The demon tongue summoned his favored weapon to his hand in an eldritch lightning's flash.
An unholy relic from demonkind's halcyon days, Psyma's Staff was macabre smithed from cursed gold. Twin-twisted axe-blades, accented with gold-twisted veins, curved out from a fiendish skull's temples. Emeralds set into the eye sockets exacerbated an already otherworldly aura.
Swarm members closest to Diabolico turned at the lightning's crack. The demon sorcerer jumped off the automobile. He had joined the fray.
Part of the swarm turned towards him. The closest ant was struck down with a yellow energy blast from Diabolico's left hand. Another was hit from an energy laser from his staff's tip.
More broke away from the other monsters defending the humans to halt Diabolico. Three lunged at him. All three attacks were blocked with the length of Psyma's Staff.
An incantation left Diabolico lips, his staff glowing with every word. Normally, his staff could only fire a single energy laser. Spell craft, however, permitted a division.
Three beams—red, blue, and yellow—struck the ants point-blank. The monsters fell on their back, smoke rising from their bodies. They wriggled in pain. If the laser had remained singular, death would have afflicted them instead.
More swarm members charged him, clawed hands ready to deliver a killing blow. Psyma's Staff and spell craft blocked this assault. He pressed forward as his foes fell back.
Well-timed axe blows severed a left arm and right hand from one. Another cut into one's azure gut. White fluids poured from the wound, white guts creeping out. The last one dug deep into that one's skull.
Thick heads, these, Diabolico thought as he tugged his weapon free. He glanced at the other two. Despite their wounds (one literally held its intestines), both attempted a sneak attack. But no brains to justify that thickness.
Diabolico willed ethereal energy to coalesce in his chest's mouth. He turned. A flame beam spewed forth, immolating the ants. No pained sounds from the insectoid as it perished.
The demonic sorcerer pushed forward. Axe swings and cast spells cleared his way. Finally he reached the other monsters.
The first one, a skeleton, greeted him. "Welcome to the insecticide! How yah doin'?
Despite its lack of muscle and skin, the skeleton's slightly opened jaw radiated more genuine joy than any proper smile. His right side was gray with a green cloth wrapped around his wrist. The left was splattered in dirty brown, olive green, and tan. Dreary color palette.
It set its bone sword, blade first, into the ground. The material around the impact point cracked in a wide web. Amber gems set in his breasts bone shone like predatory eyes. His torso, bone sculpted into a twisted skull's face, elongated out to the hips where the teeth transformed into a bulbous skirt. A fearsome monster if he wasn't so welcoming.
"Rito," said a gruff voice. "You bonehead! Focus on the battle!"
The speaker was a monster bedecked in intricate golden armor, this one—with simian facial features twisted in a dark snarl—radiated martial fury. The round halo that extended out from his visor-less helmet, brought attention to his dark blue simian face that was twisted into a snarl. Black feather wings, protected at their tops with gold armor plates, were half extended out.
In-flight, this monster would resemble an angel of death.
The skeleton, identified as Rito, laughed. "You're right, Goldar. Talk to you all later!"
That parting provided, the skeleton rejoined the fray, slashing at the nearest ant. Despite lack of lips, Diabolico swore he heard Rito humming. What a peculiar undead monster.
"Who are you?" the golden-armored monster asked, golden sword pointed at Diabolico's chest.
"I could ask the same," the demonic sorcerer said, "But there's a more important question: why are you here?"
"Desperation and stupidity."
"He offered you a deal, too?"
The golden-armored monster growled, grip on his sword tightening with clanks. The Man at the Beginning had recruited him as well.
"That means we are allies," Diabolico said, presenting a free hand.
The golden-armored monster looked at the offered hand and said, "Yeah. But not friends."
Rejected, Diabolico pulled back the hand. "My name is Diabolico."
"Goldar."
Diabolico chuckled. Goldar was a fitting name.
"What's so funny?" Goldar said, snarling worsening to the point of showing teeth. "What's the joke."
"A past joke that a friend told me. He was quite funny." Diabolico smiled. "One quality of many that made him a great comrade-in-arms."
The snarl softened. Goldar's crimson eyes staring at him as if Diabolico spoke a taboo. "Your 'comrade-in-arms' sounds too nice for a monster."
A protest formed on Diabolico's lips, a defense of Loki's demonhood through past grand destruction against Mariner Bay. Unfortunately, the ants had their own protests.
A surprised cry carried above the insectoid chorus. An ant launched itself upon Rito. The two fell in a heap. It tried to scratch out the skeleton's nonexistent eyes.
Diabolico ran, then gave a swift kick to the ant's head. Such a sudden strike sent it rolling away in a screeching fit. A glinting blade silenced its protests with decapitation.
The blade's owner wore a dome-like helm, divided into segments with gold lines. A grill, underneath intersecting gold lines, mimed a mouth. His mostly black body, with a clear metallic tint, resembled clothing. More gold was forged into bulging pectorals around his chest. An avian medallion sat upon the left simulacra breast.
"I am Villamax," he said in greeting, though his focus never left the battlefield. "You have met these…devourers of the innocent."
Diabolico raised a brow at this comment. What terrible acts were these ants committing? Fate, as if hearing his very soul, answered him. An experienced strategist, Diabolico observed the battlefield for any weakness in the swarm. That's how he noticed an ant trio, hunched over something in the lot. It engrossed them so that the battle was an afterthought.
He only noticed the blood stains on their hands when one brought an organ to its mouth. Mandibles and teeth ground the human-born flesh into scarlet mush. As Diabolico observed this vile carnal feast, anger swelled in his chest.
The emotion influenced him so, that he ignored the other combatants as he walked over to the "feast". Not one participant noted his approach. A lightning strike, brought down from Diabolico's mere will, struck them from their feast stupor.
The battle broke into vignettes. Axe-stroke and spells, claws and teeth, innards and extremities all passed through Diabolico's vision. Eventually the swarm dwindled down to four members.
A pause settled on the battlefield. Breaths (except for Rito's) turned into a soft, rhythmic cord. Diabolico noted how calm his allies' breathing was. The ants, on the other hand, breathed as if death almost owned their souls.
A powerful cry like a locust raging burst from one ant. The swarm broke into a last-ditch charge. Diabolico and his allies charged as well in counter.
Their deaths—Diabolico and allies—weren't the swarm's objective.
As blades clashed with claws, a buzz permeated the air. Shadows—winged shadows—passed over. Diabolico kicked back his opponent. A reprieve made, he briefly gazed up.
More ants blotted the sky. Their violet chitin and wings, in their formation, formed a resplendent, porous scapolite cloud. This gem-like cloud descended upon the hospital's upper stories, ignoring whatever fires raged.
The sight distracted Diabolico so that an ant almost scratched the emeralds in his face-chest. He countered with an axe blow to the face. Despite how deep the weapon dug (clear fluids pouring from the impact site), the ant refused to die.
Persistent beasts these, Diabolico thought as he focused his magic. Quickly releasing his left hand's grip on Psyma's Staff, a blue energy blast burst from his palm. The attack evaporated the ant's head. Where axe blows fail, magic succeeds.
The ground battle ended as the others dispatched their opponents. Goldar exercised extreme thoroughness: not only decapitating the head but amputating the arms and legs.
Villamax jogged up to Diabolico. He flicked and wiped away whatever blood and gore stuck to his blade. "One battle ends, and another begins."
"Meat…Meat…"
The drone, hunger-filled, pierced through the swarm's war cry above. As Diabolico turned, an ant had leapt upon Goldar. A survivor from Diabolico's three beam attack based on its fried appearance.
The insectoid bit and clawed at his armor.
In a breath's span, an axe blade cut deep into its neck while Goldar's golden sword pierced through its chest. They withdrew their weapons only when resistance. The ant monster's corpse fell to the ground, splattering a retreating Goldar with transparent gore.
Goldar wiped at his armor with a gauntleted hand; transparent fluid and gore stuck despite how vigorously he shook the limb. "Disgusting."
The ground shook. Energy beams burst out from one of the hospital's upper levels. Somehow both Diabolico and his newfound allies remained on their feet as the trembling ran its course.
"Someone is fighting at the upper levels," Diabolico said.
"Yeah. Wonder if there are more 'comrade-in-arms' on our team," Goldar said.
"Perhaps." Diabolico turned to the rising human survivors.
Most wore garb similar to the lady from before. Almost all shook as their "saviors" strode towards them. One stood proud, unafraid. She stared Diabolico and his group down, an impressive feat from someone of short stature.
They don't completely trust us, Diabolico thought, shaking off as much gore from his staff as possible. I don't blame them.
"Hey, Diabolico? You okay?" Rito asked.
The skeleton joined the group, bone sword heft over his left shoulder. Rest kept their own blades ready. Ants in the air, and considering their toughness, and their numbers, battle was a certainty.
Diabolico nodded. "Flying catastrophe, right?"
"Goldar?" Rito shook his head. "He may bark loud, but deep down he's a big soft—"
"No. I'm. Not!"
The bark, assuredly loud, caused several humans to jump.
"Goldar?" Villamax said. "Compose yourself."
Goldar growled. "I'll compose myself when this bonehead stops ruining my reputation!"
Rito placed a hand on Goldar's shoulder. "Is this about that time we were—"
"We agreed to never talk about that again!"
This "time" they were discussing must have scarred Goldar, enough to turn him about so violently. The sheer aggression behind his intimidation let the mind wander to horrific possibilities. Only the worst may invoke such emotion from a warrior.
To bring the group's attention back, Diabolico walked over to the humans, hands out in a peaceful gesture with his staff tucked beneath his right arm. Most cowered back, except one. This one was a female with brown hair that wore a white coat.
"My name is Diabolico," he stated calmly, gesturing to his fellows, "We will not harm you. We are here to…"
"Help?" the female said, in the tongue heard throughout Mariner's Bay though accented.
"Yes, we are." Felt strange to admit that.
The female stepped forwards, brushing aside her fellow humans as they attempted to keep her back. She walked with authority and confidence. Diabolico respected her bravery.
Once she was close enough, she brought her right arm up, and presented an empty hand. "I am Doctor Maru Ogingo. On behalf of the medical staff, I thank you."
Diabolico smiled and shook her hand. The appendage, grasped in his, was tiny.
"Funny," Doctor Maru said as the handshake ended. "I have so many questions…"
"Unfortunately," Diabolico said, "We have many of our own."
"Little time to answer both parties," Villamax interjected, standing beside Diabolico. He pointed his blade upwards at the chitin mass on the hospital. "Those creatures will undoubtedly attack us."
"There's more! A hundred swarmed the lobby and worked their way up. It's a miracle we even escaped with how systematic their slaughter was."
Goldar huffed after that statement. Doctor Ogingo narrowed her eyes at the winged-monster, lips pursed minutely.
"That answers one question," Diabolico said to focus the conversation once more. "Here's one from our party: where—and who—is the Third?"
Doctor Ogingo thought a few seconds, before looking behind at her colleagues. Conversation heated up among the group. Third? What Third? Third level? Third bowl of miso? Many subjects were suggested as answer to half Diabolico's question.
"Hold on!" Villamax said, assertive enough to silence everyone. "Fellow with the green streak in his hair. What was that you just said?"
The human in question, a lithe youth with medium-length bangs, looked to his colleagues. In those glances was a desperate hope: He doesn't mean me, right? Their silence was an unspoken, Yes, he means you!
Hope extinguished, he stepped forward, and bowed. "Hagiwara Asahi. I'm a nurse."
"We weren't asking about your job!" Goldar said in the tongue from Angel Grove, pointing his blade at the man.
The humans gasped and stepped back. Diplomacy, or tact, wasn't Goldar's strength.
Villamax stepped between the raging winged monster and the group, weapon-hand aimed at the former while the other was outstretched in a calming gesture.
"Pardon my companion," Villamax said, "But his concern is warranted. Hagiwara, sir. If you would provide only vital information, that would help us all."
Hagiwara nodded his head. "I work on the tenth floor, a recovery ward. Not too much excitement, typically.
"Then the Angel attacked about a week ago."
Hagiwara recounted the madness. Their facility, designed for general wellness, experienced a surge when some giant otherworldly creature attacked this city, Tokyo-3. The damage wrought brought injuries only seen in warzones.
As his story continued, Diabolico noted the survivors' reactions. Some maintained stoic expressions, others had tears flowing. Names, prayers passed from their lips. Loss from this incident had wounded everyone. The ants only worsened this tragedy.
The story reached the most important part.
"These guys in black suits—a dozen, at least—suddenly appeared the day after the giant purple mecha killed that kaiju. They patrolled as if guarding a military secret. Two always stayed outside one room, watching over this kid—
"What room is this child in?" Diabolico said. "What level?"
Hagiwara paused, attempting to remember.
"Answer him!" Goldar said, hefting his sword over his shoulder. "We don't have all day!"
The human winced. "My apologies, sir. I know it's on my floor, but I'm trying to recall the exact room number—"
"All those armed guards, with two staying in the exact same spot, and you can't remember the exact room!"
Hagiwara and the other survivors flinched, stepping back. A few reached for the chairs again. Pitiful weapons against an armed and armored angered monster. Doctor Ogingo chose a different weapon.
She stepped in front of Goldar, hands in her coat pockets. Despite her short stature, thus having to look up, Doctor Ogingo radiated authority and courage that was intimidating.
"Mister Goldar. Our facility provides care to hundreds, if not thousands of patients a year. To meet this demand, everyone here—" she brought her right hand out and waved it behind her circularly at the staff. "—works mandatory overtime. Sixty hours a week on average.
"Yet we have lives outside our profession. Families to support, hobbies to indulge…other activities that maintain our sanity. All this considered, Mister Goldar, please excuse us if we don't remember every minute detail."
"Mister" Goldar's snarl disappeared. He grumbled an apology then stepped away. This exchange earned Diabolico's respect.
"Sir Hagiwara," Villamax said, sheathing his blade. The monster adopted a neutral stance. "Calm down, and give us any information—?"
"Room seven!" Hagiwara said, ecstatic and relieved all at the same time. Diabolico noted the sweat on the human's brow.
"Thank you, Hagiwara," Diabolico said to the human, who appeared to relax. "Your help is greatly appreciated."
He turned to Doctor Ogingo. "The way is clear back to the main gates."
Doctor Ogingo bowed. "Thank you! I wish you and your comrades the best luck in finding whoever you are searching for."
The other humans, though apprehensive at leaving, followed the doctor. Her position, and personality, overrode any caution or doubts. If everything worked out, they would escape this hell.
As the last one disappeared behind a boxy, mauve automobile, Diabolico turned to his apparent allies. "We need a plan."
"You don't say," Goldar scoffed, over Doctor Ogingo's chastisement. "I suppose you have one?"
Villamax, if he had any eyes, stared hard at Goldar. Almost like he wanted to cuff the insolent cat-ape.
"Please, Diabolico, share your stratagem with us," Villamax said.
Diabolico thus shared his plan. When he finished, he briefly answered questions and accepted improvements. As they divided tasks, the structure shook, knocking plaster off in clouds above. Another fight raged above.
Time short, the group divided into two teams: Goldar and Rito one, Diabolico and Villamax the other. Whoever fought just needed to hold on a while longer…
Bodies covered the floor. Some were humans in soiled garments, others insectoid in onyx nudity. Blood plastered the floors and walls crimson. In some instances, the plasma was overlayed with clear fluids that, in the right light, tinted the affected surfaces ruby. A great thinker may wax that beauty was always found in destruction, or such nonsense.
Ecliptor was no philosopher.
He was a soldier to some, a monster to most—and a father to one. The only thoughts that occupied him were of geometry. Example: swing his blade (Corona) at an angle to cut the insectoid's clawed arm off to minimize harm to himself.
Forty-five point five degrees this instance.
The curved, black blade sliced through the carapace limb. This sudden amputation bothered the owner none. It brought its other arm around. Only a few meters between them, this strike could land.
Ecliptor, recognizing this possibility already, countered. He let his opponent commit, then jumped back just as the swing reached its target. Another sword swing, and the insectoid was armless. No hands to use, it resorted to its head as a ram.
Corona's edge cut the bastard in two.
Clear blood and white guts smacked against Ecliptor's chest. A fresh coat on another dozen that had caked and hardened. An ammonia stench grew from this stain that overwhelmed his nose.
A cleaning would wait, though. A dozen more insectoids awaited death.
Ecliptor pointed his blade's tip at the closest one, and said, "Who's next?"
No thought (if they even had a brain) was given to their charge. Several ran toward him as he stepped back down the hall. The narrow corridors negated their numerical advantage.
Blade in one hand, he raised the other before his optics. Subroutines noted the gesture, warmed the lasers built behind the advanced lenses, and a powerful beam shot to where that same raised hand gestured. The attack incinerated the nearest insectoid's upper torso. Impact generated enough force to knock over the others.
Enemies disoriented, Ecliptor plotted out his next move when his audio receptors picked out footsteps. He pivoted to his right; sword tip pointed downward, blade at an angle. A defensive position.
A black, clawed hand burst out from the wall. More followed, eight in total. Plaster and wood gave way and fell. In minutes, an insectoid quartet cleared their way through, indifferent to the electric cables and pipes.
Ecliptor noted the thicker armor and prominent wings.
More officers, Ecliptor thought, already adjusting his stratagem. More complications.
The insectoids moved closer, surrounding him in an acute crescent. The only option left to him was a sword blast barrage. Unfortunately, the officers' stronger attributes required more effort. Effort that exposed him to the underlings.
One attack strong enough to defeat the officers was a United Energy Slash… An attack, not accounting for the energy build-up time at Ecliptor's current dimensions, entailed a fatal conclusion to the entire structure.
Ecliptor thought out more scenarios, but each one ended in disaster.
The insectoids shambled closer, moaning and screeching with each step. Few more moments, and another violent end meted to Ecliptor. Unless he maximized his initiative.
As he committed to this course, pained screeches bellowed from behind the grunts. Arms and heads flew up and down in random trajectories. The others, perhaps concerned about their fellows or own safety, turned their attention to the sudden rear assault.
A moment was all Ecliptor needed.
He shot an energy ball at the officer furthest to his right. The monster fell onto its back, wings folded out as if it wanted to fly on the floor. An angle open, Ecliptor ran towards the next officer in line, blade scraping a line in the tile. Energy fluxed around the metal.
Ecliptor raised Corona to cut clean through the fallen officer's legs. Before the vital fluids even zapped to ether, an energy crescent shot out. Another officer was bisected from the left hip to right shoulder.
The next officer, noting how its fellow caste members were cut down, entered a defensive stance: claws out from the body to intercept any attacks. Legs spread out to support weight distribution.
A solid defense that fell apart when an energy blast hit it from the side.
Ecliptor adopted his own defensive stance. Who is joining this battle?
Bickering—familiar bickering—grew from the area where the officers punched through. Complaints about bone-headedness and flight abilities. Useless talk. Ecliptor hoped it wasn't the pair he suspected…
The officer that still stood turned to the new front, and promptly air kicked from a jubilant skeleton. That jubilancy haunted Ecliptor's dreams.
"Wow. I really broke this guy's…bones!" Rito, flat on his back, laughed as he rose. "Isn't that right, Goldar?"
Lord Zedd's fierce general, the marauder Goldar, stepped out from the hole in the wall. His black wings, an unholy favor from his evil patron, were stretched out to their fullest length. Golden blade already dripped with clear ichor.
These idiots, thought Ecliptor, flew up the building, and then the cat-ape threw the skeleton like a necromantic marionette.
The duo's daring and stupidity confounded him. An impressive feat for two monsters renowned for their buffoonish behavior.
The remaining officers, backs literally against the wall, assessed the situation. Their antennae and beady eyes observed the same facts as Ecliptor: underlings, whose only real strengths were their numbers, fell behind them; multiple fronts existed with three fighters now focused on them.
A party (if not outright leader) to numerous planetary conquests, Ecliptor knew the signs to a "fight or flight" response from a foe. The forward angle of their backs, bend in their arms and legs signaled a charge.
Sharp claws dug into Ecliptor's left ankle.
Ecliptor spun on his left heel as much as possible, then slammed his right foot down on an officer's shoulder. A clear trail ebbed from legless stumps. The monster clamped its mouth upon Ecliptor's ankle.
Sharp teeth dug in, anchored with mandibles. Saliva poured down Ecliptor's foot like a stream pouring its last droplets before it dried out. This last attack, though, left an opening.
Ecliptor swung Corona down on its neck. The blade pierced slightly. He swung again, and again, and again. Multiple strikes that dug deeper into the vertebrae. Power grew through his sword, all the while.
A dark shape passed overhead. Ecliptor knew what it was without even looking. One short indoor flight, and an officer had outmaneuvered him. The sharp wooden clap of kicked-in doors echoed. At the rate it went, it would soon break into the seventh room on the hall's right. Damn bug wings!
The energy gathered around Corona may halt it, but kill it? Ecliptor put all the force possible behind the next swing. Muscle and vertebrae gave way before a plasma empowered edge.
As Ecliptor shook his leg free from the corpse's grip, he threw his blade straight towards the officer. The blade, upon carapace penetration, dispelled the gathered energy in a miniature explosion. Meat chunks flew down the hall. A few hit Ecliptor.
Bug-cries died behind. One battle had ended, but another was soon to begin.
Ecliptor stepped down the hall to his sword. He bent down and grabbed it from the hilt. No internal insect matter defiled any part. Any organic matter was evaporated.
"The Guy in White really scraped the bottom of the barrel," said an all-too-familiar gruff voice.
Ecliptor tightened his grip around Corona's hilt. "Especially so, if he was willing to recruit you."
When Ecliptor turned around, Goldar stared up at him. The growl, a primitive intimidation tactic, emanated deep from his throat.
"What do you mean?" A complete phrase almost uttered as if every word was its own sentence.
"I mean that this mission our mutual benefactor assigned is one that requires diplomacy and tact." Ecliptor crossed his arms (a civilized intimidation tactic). "Skills your monkey brain can't grasp even if Zedd and Rita enhanced your intelligence."
Goldar brought his blade—still dripping with bug plasma—up high. There it held. An executioner's swing postponed.
"He stipulated the same terms to you as well." That wasn't even a question. "How fortunate for us both."
Goldar's growl grew. Before their exchange escalated, others joined them.
"Goldar? Who is this?" a baritone voice asked.
The owner, in Ecliptor's opinion, was certainly unique. A conical cranium with a pointed top, crowned with a horn hexarchy. One pair, a vibrant silver, jutted out from his temples and around to the back of his head. The remaining two pairs positioned above or below the silver horns. Those were a bright gold like most of the muscle on his body.
The muscles themselves were segmented so that they resembled armor. Spikes protruded from his pauldron-like shoulders. His chest was a demonic skull face, emeralds for eyes that accentuated the vileness of the fang-like teeth. A vermillion five-pointed star sat centered in his chest.
"I am Ecliptor. Who are you?"
"Diabolico," the baritone voiced monster said, spreading a hand towards the cyborg. "And this is Vill—"
"How many times do we have to repeat introductions?!" Goldar shouted.
Before anyone answered though, an uncomfortably loud creak filled the hall. Every monster readied their weapons, turning to face where the noise came from. The source failed to warrant such concern.
Down the hall a child stood in the doorframe to the room Ecliptor had guarded. He was in a hospital gown. His brown hair cut short and dark eyes that possessed an innocent quality found among many sapient youths. Agape with confusion and fear, the child attempted to speak.
Rito walked past Ecliptor, stopping when he was a few steps away from the child. "Hi," Rito said offering a hand to shake. "I'm Rito. Who are you?"
The child hesitated. When a skeleton asks your name, should you answer?
"Shinji. Ikari Shinji." The child said in accented English, left index finger pointed at himself.
Before the introductions continued, another interruption. A few meters down from the group another wall broke into dust. This airborne material, greater than when the officers made their hole, flew over the assembled defenders.
Ecliptor covered his face. As the abrupt dust storm settled, coughs filled the hallway. There were no contributions from him though. Modifications to his lungs, completed many eons ago, prevented any impediment to his breathing.
As mostly everyone cleared their throats, cheers carried through the hall. Deep and hardy, this jubilation implied a powerful source. The source this time wasn't a disappointment.
A large monster stood triumphant over a brutalized officer. Its fur was dark blue. Muscles bulged all over a large frame. Huge feet crunched upon the bug beneath as it shifted weight. Vapors floated up from where its feet's bottoms touched the corpse.
Its face, bone white and mask-like, displayed a monstrous grin. Pure white eyes stared at everyone. Perhaps an assessment before it attacked?
Ecliptor readied himself.
"Who are you guys?" the big blue monster said.
Everyone shared a dumbfounded look, monster and human alike. Except Rito; he waved hello, gave his name, and asked who the newcomer was.
"Bluefur." The huge monster said. "You guys know a 'Man at the Beginning'? Dresses up in white armor? Speaks in riddles?"
"Yes. I believe we all do," Diabolico said.
Bluefur laughed. "That's great! You guys are the team he was talking about. Nice to meet you!" He shook Rito's hand. "Especially you, Camo Skellington."
In the following moments, the two exchanged a complicated series of mutual hand gestures and comments. This "camaraderie" would have continued if not for blaring sirens. Ecliptor knew what this sound meant: more humans.
"Great. More mouths to ask us who we are," Goldar grumbled.
"Sir Diabolico," the cyborg said, "How do you wish to proceed?"
Diabolico, in Ecliptor's estimation so far, appeared more competent than the others. He reached a decision that Ecliptor hated almost immediately.
"We escort the boy back to his people and explain ourselves."
Protests erupted from half the group. Bluefur and Goldar shared sentiments about "surrendering" themselves to the humans. Ecliptor's concern was how they knew nothing about the humans' hierarchy and institutions. Their good deed may lead to a different, contract-breaking conflict.
"We have no choice," Diabolico said. "Our patron has stipulated the same terms to us all. No harm to humans, or to each other. These terms supposedly will allow us to complete our task. A task that doesn't benefit from antagonizing the human power centers.
"We have witnesses to us saving lives, which should carry hefty weight to any counter argument required. As long as we don't provide adequate reason to fear us."
The statement, delivered with such confidence and conviction, garnered agreements. Only the boy remained silent, a hapless creature.
Committed to their course, all weapons went to their scabbards or other storage dimensions. Goldar and Ecliptor were the last to sheath theirs. As soldiers, to lower their arms in an unknown environment felt wrong.
Rito noted this hesitancy, tapped Goldar on the shoulder, and provided a reassurance: "Don't worry, guys. How bad could this be?"
Author's Note: Well, its been awhile. All I can say is sorry for the wait. I hope this chapter makes up for it. I also want to say that I appreciate all the readers, not only for this story, but Hellboy in Dead Space. As I spent an inordinate amount of time completing this chapter, I noticed every favorite, follow, and review that my stories garnered. They all provided great motivation to complete this. I can not thank every reader enough. As a notice, I am going to alternate updates between my two stories. That means Hellboy in Dead Space will be updated next. Please leave a favorite, follow, or review. Finally, I hope everyone stays safe in these crazy times.