"And I looked, and behold a White Horse, and he that sat upon him had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went forth conquering, and to conquer." - Revelations 6:2
The familiar ring of the klaxon resounded throughout the large enclosed space as the image of oblivion spread to infinity before his eyes. Four platforms stood before him, two to the left and right with white skull symbols on hatches sitting afore, while a holographic image of the world he was perched above spun slowly to his rear. On the topographical image were a set of coordinates and a helping of certain symbols in a menagerie of colors, including principally red, bright blue and orange. Before him was the world in its physical form, imposing and dark, with many waterways interspersed throughout. Above this world, blanketing the void in a sea of metal and jingoism, were hundreds of other ships like the one he stood on.
Hundreds containing thousands just like him. Thousands of Helldivers.
These thousands were being launched from their ships down to the surface in jet-assisted assault pods while their vessels rained hellfire down on whatever poor, begotten enemy deserved such ire for the sin of not being human (or democratic). For many, it was an initiation, a chance to answer the call of duty and become more than they ever could have dreamed to be. For others, it was just another day on the job, going from one world to the next, spreading liberty and democracy across the stars. For Abe, it was something he'd very much like to retire himself from.
Retirement seemed like a fool's dream, however. The survival rate for soldiers like himself could be measured in mere minutes due to a lack of adequate preparatory combat training, although it can be said with confidence that in a job where people die in minutes, veterans like himself were quite valuable. And it was only veterans who managed to acquire weaponry and supplies to carry them through more dangerous missions. The Federation liked the ideal of Darwinism, after all. It has to if it wants to survive in a galaxy of neighbors like the ones being reduced to slag miles below.
A soft huff escaped his lips as the battle unfurled, his arms crossed as he stood on the viewing platform on the bridge of his ship, the SES Song of Redemption. He had long since grown tired and disillusioned from the constant fighting, having seen countless battles across countless worlds. He had slain many for an ideal he once proudly shouted to the heavens, and seen many of his comrades die for those same ideals, and yet he was lucky enough to remain.
Lucky. Why should he be lucky when he still lives and all the people he has known thus far have perished in horrible ways? Why should he be lucky when every new recruit jumps in with the promise of glory, only to be rent apart with laser blasts or slashing claws? Why should he be lucky he cannot have the courage to die with everyone else and be spared the pain of a miserable existence of fighting hither and yon?
'Lucky...'
This word danced around his brain as he stepped onto one of the platforms, placing his boots into locking mechanisms on the roundel before being lowered down into a hellpod. A secondary platform closed shut above him, locking him into what amounted for an iron tomb (and for many, that's exactly what they found themselves in) that would be shot from the ship at incredible speeds, propelling him down to the world's surface like a seed of destruction, burying itself in the soil and sprouting him out as the hateful, violent thing he was. From inside, Abe managed the coordinate screen of the selected battle-zone being broadcast into his pod, selecting a spot to drop down onto. From there, he selected next from a list of stratagems to take with him into combat, rows of spherical objects lining the inside of his pod. These stratagems acted as beacons for specific functions, such as calling down supplies, orbital barrages, sentry guns, airstrikes and more; all one had to do was take out a sphere from their pack, input the directional code from their wrist-mounted PDA, and toss it on the ground (assuming the tosser wasn't standing directly on top of the sphere when the requested item came down).
From there, it was as simple as pushing a big red button. A simple press and away he went, fired from the bottom of the ship like a shell from a cannon. The shaped pod blazed in a dazzling display of red and yellow as it bore through the atmosphere, diving at hundreds of miles per hour and rattling violently all the while. Breaching into the lower atmosphere, it then activated a set of jets pointed downwards to slow its descent, finally landing with a *thunk* and burrowing into the earth. The lid on the top then burst open and Abe was lifted up from inside, stepping into the warm light of the jungle world. With a heavy sigh and cracking of old joints, Abraham Eisenherz gripped his Sickle laser rifle and stepped off onto the dirt, heading for his objective to the east. In front of him was a rising sun bringing warmth that snaked its way through the canopy above as animals twittered and hooted around him. To his rear, adorned to his back, was a symbol of a bloody regime that would see all before it brought under its heel of so-called emancipation. This symbol flowed and fluttered behind him as he took off at a sprint, its blackened, shredded hem catching the muck and dust from his footfalls. It was a beacon of the hate he had for the people he fought so valiantly to serve and protect... and the hate he had for the inhuman monstrosities elsewhere in the galaxy, many of them on the rock he now treaded.
It didn't matter in the end, however. He was a soldier first. His job was to fight and kill, not to think. Thinking about everything is how you die.
Within his sights was a patrol of some of the enemies of mankind, cluttering through the trees, their snarls and clicks chirping in the humid air. They skittered along the ground heedless of the lone figure in the bush to their right. As they traveled through the underbrush, Abe slowly and quietly raised his rifle at the leader of the group, such a large target as it was, and gently squeezed the trigger.
"For Super Earth."
A/N: Hi everyone. As you can probably tell, Helldivers 2 took the gaming community and the internet by storm in the last couple months and I, like many others, decided to give it a try. To say that it has revived my love of co-op gaming is an understatement. I have had more fun playing this game than any other in the last few years, and I love the obvious tongue-in-cheek worldbuilding of its universe, so much so I decided to write a little story about it. Don't worry, many aspects of the game's more humorous nature will be kept in spades, but I also want to look at this parodic setting from the lens of melodrama.
Due to outside commitments and responsibilities, I'll try to keep an upload schedule as best as I can (aiming for 1 chapter a week, 2 weeks at the most). I'll also be posting this content on Archive Of Our Own as soon as I get that set up. Anyways, that's enough jibber-jabber about the background stuff, so enjoy!