Alice, Commander

Now, based entirely on their kill count and the fact that it had been increasing rapidly over the last few weeks, they did not have to worry about choking on a sausage of shame. Probably. Maybe. Except for the fact that it had been mentioned that it would be a shame if their gunner was not there to see things, that it would be a shame if they had to delay the ceremony due to one of their members being AWOL, and that yes, the penalty for attempted desertion, and not showing up for the mandatory event would count as desertion, had a communal sentence.

Had to make sure that there were no runners after all, even with the compulsions and bindings to finish up their terms. The only way out the Legion was the finish line or death. And they had come so close to death that it sickened her, a cold chill in her stomach. Even as the rage started to build in her again. Because it had been months and he was still out there. Still fighting, still killing, waging war against the forces of the abyss without the benefit of the company chopper, without backup or more than just the contract he had the start.

And she was not fully aware of where he took that, as he had branched into waters she was not familiar with. Yes, from what she learned, a properly built D&D 3.5 character could get somewhat... insane at higher levels, particularly one that drew from non-canon sources. And if he had been waging non-stop war, he was likely very much non-fucking canon. But, they had finally been able to afford a tracker app, as trying to locate him the air had not been fucking working so far.

But, it was Betty that spoke, her tone worried. "Ah, Alice? He is moving fast and coming closer."

Now, she blinked, because they had not yet reached the walls of the bastion yet for their flight out. "How much..."

She paused, as the artillery roared, as hordes of demons were rushing the walls, chased almost by something. Because the booming thunder of the artillery was being joined by something something else, something that sang of refrain of the thunder and flame of hell itself. Of a war without end that begun before time, before death, before sanity was carved out of a brutal and uncaring cosmos by hands even harder.

Which, as she crossed the walls, as they saw their 'wayward' teammate... that she knew that she had done fucked up. It was not a single thing, not really. It wasn't that fact that he had doubled in height and was wrapped in literal hellfire, a cloak of billowing flames even as there was a hat of ashes on his head. In each of his hands he held something that was less a pistol and more a hand cannon, weapons more suited to be mounted on tanks or the chopper than used in a single hand.

Each one that did not actually fire bullets... but brutal lines of hellfire and fury, banes to the dark in a line, sundering demonic flesh as they howled and died amid a storm of mystical bullets and power forged from raw will. It did not escape Alice that Matt was over three miles away from the edge were demons were dying. Nor was it that he was riding on some sort of flame spewing infernal motorcycle straight out of the Ghostrider movies as he tore his way into the carnage with powers and abilities that she was pretty sure was the province of those who were in the top three and were near mustering out.

They landed. He looked at her in the eye as he nodded. "Commander. Ready for pick up."

She shivered, as she heard it for what it was (and not that his voice was rough, ash and smoke and war rather than what it used to be), as he cocked a hammer of one of his revolvers. She was no longer the strongest one on the team, and that hurt her as she grimaced. "Yes, well, come on aboard. It took a while but..."

She grimaced, as he got on, the bike rumbling... and lifting into the air on burning treads. "Well, we did come for you."

A thoughtful and baleful hum, as he checked his guns, eyes never leaving her, smouldering with embers. Okay, yeah, she was... just going to wait till they were back at base before screaming. Which hey, should only take them the all of ten minutes as he checked and rechecked his guns with a face carved of cast iron.

Veronica, Mechanic

Now, was it a good thing that they had picked up the big guy? Fucking hell yes, she had been politely asking Alice to go back for him for weeks. Granted, there was now something... okay, the fact that he seemed like a giant of iron and vengeance just made her panties wet. The fact that he was staring at Alice with silent focus, checking and cycling bullets in a gun that did not really need them, clicking. Each one a thunder that echoed, as if he was weighing just gunning them down.

Which you know, not something that she would normally think was really all that possible, as they had gotten pretty good... but he had survived out beyond the walls on his own for months. Truthfully, she suspected that he may be a touch... vexed with them. Then again, he was seemingly focusing his ire on their 'fearless' leader (who seemed to be having a breakdown) and she was not going to be stupid enough to draw his attention to herself.

Not when he had somehow become something able to fight a small army and at the very least hold his own. That was both dangerous and merited her stepping carefully until she was not on the 'to be shot' list.

Matt, Gunner

Alice was a dead woman walking. But the simple truth was that I was not sure if I could just knock on the doors of hell be allowed entry. I'd have tried it anyway on my steed fashioned of bone and iron, but the walls had held against the abyssal tide. I was but a man, and did not wish to test them, for as strong as I was, as hard and tough as I was, the Legion of the Damned and the company as a whole had felled far stronger than I.

Best not to test that, even as I pondered just how Alice would die, the testing of the guns soothing and relaxing as I fell into meditation, as I looked her over, as the scenes of her death played out in my mind. So many possibilities. So many ways before she would break. Soon.

After I visited the mess hall.