Testament XI: He Prepared His Army
"Can somebody take this fuckin' corpse off my back?" Adams groaned, and Annie rushed to assist him. "Not you, sweetie, I- HEY! Can one of you six foot shitlords take this princess off my hands?!"
"I'll get her." Beliel said, elegantly reaching to take Catherine off Adams' back. He rotated his shoulder joints, groaning slightly.
"Thanks...uh...what's your name, again?"
Beliel gave a half-smile, extending one hand to offer a handshake as he adjusted his hold on Catherine.
"Beliel. Nice to meet you."
Adams tentatively took his hand and shook it, sizing him up. He was surprised the man had offered a handshake, especially considering how he looked, and how Adams himself looked; But he was grateful nonetheless.
"You're quite a...presence, Bell. I'm Adams, and this is Annie."
He gestured to Annie, who bowed her head slightly in greeting. Beliel returned the gesture, turning his eyes back to Adams.
"Well, Adams, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you don't mind, I have to tend to this lady here."
He nodded his head to the unconscious woman in his arms, and Adams nodded.
After the discussion, the Slayer's team headed towards a large barracks that had been cleared out for them to use for the moment, where several hundred bunk beds lined the open floor of the massive room, beset with dim lighting from the ceiling. The looks of fear and trepidation from nearby human workers followed them all the way to their quarters, much to their discomfort. As they entered the large chamber and began unpacking their gear, chatter filled the room as the Hazbin demons finally found some time for rest and relaxation.
Niffty noticed that Angel Dust seemed to be suffering immensely, his head in his hands, and sweating profusely as he sat on his un-made bed.
"Are you okay, Mr. Dust?" Niffty asked, darting up to him in concern. He growled.
"Eugh, I don't fuckin' know...it feels just like the time I OD'ed, and for some reason I'm really damn hungry. Not to mention, I feel exhausted...what the hell happened?"
"Let me check!" Niffty responded, unslinging her medical gun and pointing the barrel at him. A quick scan ran over him, and something popped up on the small monitor attached to the side of the device. Niffty's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she read the report.
"Well, doc?" Angel remarked. "How's it lookin'?"
"Erm...it says here you're suffering extreme withdrawal from cocaine, multiple methamphetamines, a few forms of nicotine and-"
"Wait, what?!" Angel exclaimed, snatching the device from Niffty's hands, much to her anger.
"Hey!" She protested, kicking him in the shin.
"OW! You little…"
Angel's words faded away as he took a look over the report on her device, perplexed.
"Why the fuck am I in withdrawal? I'm a fuckin' demon!"
Niffty shrugged, hopping up and snatching back the device.
"I don't know." She said snarkily. "Maybe you should stop doing them."
Angel Dust groaned as Niffty scampered off, looking to clean up dirty splotches around the barracks and give medical care to any wounded. He put one hand on his head, trying to quell the terrible throbbing that plagued it.
"What the fuck is going on here…"
...Cathy!...
...Please...help us!...
Oh...god!...SOMEONE...PLEA…
CATHERINE!
Catherine awoke in a sweat, gasping with terror. She found herself lying on the ground, but her head was on someone's lap.
"Catherine? Holy shit, you're awake!"
Catherine struggled to grasp her surroundings at first, still jarred by her sudden awakening. And yet, the familiar voice rang into her head.
"B...Beliel…?..."
Gradually, her eyes began to sharpen, and she could see his face hovering over hers, dripping with tears.
"Oh, thank god, Catherine! You were so silent and still, I thought you had perished! How do you feel?"
Catherine tried to raise her head, though fell short when a massive headache came upon her.
"Do you mind…" She panted. "...If I lie here to rest...for a little bit…"
The concern on Beliel's face made her heart race a little bit. It had been a while since she'd seen him, especially after he was outcast from his position, and she definitely didn't expect him of all the angels to look over her safety.
Nonetheless, she was deeply grateful that he was here, now. Especially since…
"Oh, god…" Catherine mumbled, tears cascading down the side of her cheeks. "They're all...they're…"
Beliel was silent as Catherine sobbed aloud, calling out the names of her vassals with grief, softly stroking her hair to comfort her.
"I'm sorry, Catherine." He said with a hushed tone. He noticed a few of those demons under the Slayer's command were eyeing the scene, but were looking especially at him, suspicion in their eyes. They whispered among each other as they stared at him, and he was starting to get fed up with it.
"Is there something you all need?" He asked politely, addressing those staring at him.
"Your wings look familiar." One of them remarked aloud. "Looks like the Exterminator wings I've seen kill my friends so many times over, in Hell."
Beliel tried to contain his panic as others started to notice the striking similarity in his wings to the Exterminator's. The last thing he wanted was to get pinpointed as an angel from the very opposite realm of where these deviants were from, especially when he was so vastly outnumbered.
"And you clearly look like an angel," Another noticed. "Where the fuck did you come from?"
Before Beliel could say anything, Catherine spoke up, her voice elegantly commanding the atmosphere.
"Where...is the Slayer?" She struggled to ask, overtaken with mental and physical exhaustion.
Everyone in the room seemed to hear the question, as all heads turned to her. A few seconds of silence passed by.
"He left us. Again." One of the Hazbin demons muttered angrily, doing a routine cleaning of his rifle. "Guess we're just his little disposable imps, now that he's around his own kind."
The tone of bitterness that accompanied his voice piqued Catherine's curiosity. She couldn't summon the willpower to open her eyes and look at the faces around her, but they sounded human, and this served to assuage her fears.
"In all of my time following that murder turtle, I've never once had a talk with him, not even casually." Another one of the Hazbin demons commented. "And everytime I try, he just stares me down. What's his problem?"
His complaint was followed by audible expressions of agreement from the other demons, along with more complaints.
"I just can't believe that we went through Hell with that guy (literally), and we still end up getting treated like shit."
"Sometimes I wonder if we should just fuck off and go find somewhere on this giant shithole to do our own thing."
"But, I mean, he stopped that invasion in Hell from killing us all, you know…"
The last remark turned heads to Annie, who had said it. She seemed to shrink back when she got the spotlight, clinging to Adams' shirt with one hand.
"Yeah, is that so?" One of the other Hazbin demons responded vehemently. "You know what he also did?"
The demon, who was a 6 foot tall snake-human hybrid with a leather jacket and blue jeans, lifted his shirt to reveal a massive, gray scar resembling a shotgun blast running from his chest to his stomach.
"He gave me this fucking wound. He shot me in the damn chest and left me to bleed to death. I was sent to one of the most horrifying fucking places I'd ever seen in my life, then I was brought BACK to my original Hell, only to have to serve that fucking menace to get rid of a threat that ONLY came after HE showed up!"
His protest was loudly supported by the other Hazbin demons; At the same time, since that one demon mentioned his scar, Annie began to notice the subtle but prolific amount of scars on all the other demons; They were all decorated with some form of an old and large battle wound.
"But-"
"But what?! You think we follow that bloodlusting bastard because we like him?!" The first demon hissed. "He SHOT MY ARM OFF AND CRUSHED MY HEAD UNDER HIS BOOT!"
"He broke my jaw off!" Another demon said.
"He blasted me and my girl into bits!" Moxxie shouted.
"The only reason I haven't left is because I have no fucking clue what's going on! One day I'm shooting the shit with my boys in a bar, next I'm getting killed, sent to megahell, resurrected and forced to fight with the fucker that killed me!" The snake demon rasped, in the process of making his bed. "The moment I think I don't have to fight for my damn life, or rely on that bastard to protect me, I'm getting the fuck out of here."
"Well…" Annie muttered, knowing she was clearly not on the winning side of this argument. "Why don't you say anything to him?"
Moxxie stared at Annie as if she were insane.
"You think I want to get shot in the face again? I'm not risking my impy life to talk to that tall stalk of broccoli just so I can ask, 'Hey, Mr. Slayer, why did you terrorize my world and try to kill EVERYONE?!'"
Adams put one hand on Annie's shoulder. She glanced at him to see him shaking his head.
"Let's just drop it." He whispered. Although dismayed, Annie nodded quietly. She turned back once more towards the snake demon, and bowed her torso. This gesture threw off the snake demon, who had been expecting a comeback.
"I apologize, sir." Annie said, with a heartfelt tone. "I forgot what you went through. I understand why you're angry, and I honestly hope that we can all get out of this soon enough."
The snake demon seemed lost for words, his aggression dissipated.
"I…" He mumbled. "Well...thanks, for the apology...I guess."
He rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly feeling guilt.
"It's...it's been a while since someone wished me good health. I mean, I AM a demon and trafficked children in my old life, but…"
He cracked a small smile, revealing his fangs.
"...Thanks."
Annie raised her head, nodding and smiling
"Oh, and I never really got the time to know your name?" She asked, offering a handshake. "I'm Annie, it's a pleasure to talk to you!"
The snake demon took her hand and shook it earnestly.
"I'm Andrej!"
"Erm-"
Another demon, who was standing nearby, came forward and offered his claw.
"Well, I don't really know you guys, even though we fought in battle together. I'm Harris."
"Hey, can I get a handshake too?
Adams watched, in complete bewilderment, as Annie gradually began trading introductions with all of the demons nearby, and soon enough the entire room was breaking out into chatter once more as several more introductions between everyone broke out.
In all of the time he'd spent previously in Hell, he had not once seen this kind of behavior among them. These thieving, cutthroat, conniving, deceitful, murderous, backstabbing, selfish, cold-blooded degenerates and deviants were chatting among one another, an invisible but apparent bond shared between them all, formed from continuous battle as a group. Adams himself felt this bond in the air, and now that he reflected on it, he realized he had come to know a few of the demons in this group during the time they spent together.
The feeling of watching his back, of not trusting anyone or anything as a long-time mobster, had dissipated long ago, and he was instead filled with a sense of unity among these people…
People?
Adams rubbed his head. He never thought there would be a day when he humanized these degenerates, even declaring them as battle brothers.
Truly, these were bizarre times.
(Queue 'A Demonic Corruption' by Mick Gordon)
"Call in Horus and Onyx platoons immediately! Coordinate all nearby platoons back to the FOB, ASAP!"
"This is HQ-Delta-95, requesting all patrols RTB! You MUST return to base immediately!"
"OBS-109, use the orbital satellites to keep an eye on the outgoing patrols as they return to base!"
The Observation Deck (coined by Isabella) was rife with activity, as dozens of logistics and surveillance personnel dashed around, using radios to give and receive orders as well as organizing data on the several screens at the far end of the deck.
All for one, particular individual.
Charlie looked up at the Slayer, something she was starting to get tired of doing. She felt as if they were about the same height in Hell, but even then it felt as if she were still looking up at his face. His visor, which previously did not betray any sign of the rest of his face, seemed to illuminate into transparency for a moment, so that Charlie could see his face more clearly, almost as if the visor was allowing her to do so.
His eyes, which had been darting around the room, glanced towards hers for a brief moment-
BANG! BANG! BANG-
Charlie felt her heartbeat quicken, her irises diluting, her hands balling into fists. What was that?!
It was...almost like...a flashback. But a terribly unpleasant one-
CRUNCH!
She gasped. A quick glimpse of a past memory, but of a horrific, violent incident she didn't want to remember…
She shook her head. She didn't want to reminisce on the past, when so much was at stake for the future.
"Slayer." She asked him. His head turned to her, and she could see that same, underlying, deep-seated hatred in his eyes, almost as if it were aimed at her. And yet, she knew it wasn't. She had heard from VEGA about his tragic past, in summary. She understood why he was so hell-bent on slaying demons, which is why she was even more grateful that he not only spared her and her subjects, but helped them fend off a threat against her world. How could she not show appreciation for his heroic deeds-
CRACK! BANG! BOOOOM!
Another violent memory caused Charlie to stumble, tripping over her own feet and falling. Before she hit the floor, though, she felt the Slayer's arms catching her from underneath. For a moment, their eyes met, and Charlie felt her mind melt as she gazed into his brown-
"Oh!" Charlie exclaimed, as the Slayer stood her upright, letting her feet touch the ground. The moment passed, and she cleared her throat as the two stood there, the Slayer's attention now on her.
"Um...thank you, Slayer." She muttered. She noticed him gesturing at her, silently inviting her to speak. "Oh, well, I know you're kind of busy, but...I wanted to ask you…"
She stepped forward, looking earnestly at him.
"I want to be useful, Slayer! All this time, I've been watching you fight for me, saving my friends and all these people...but I want to help, too! Even back in Hell, I hardly got to help you in the fight. I felt like I was just a burden you were carrying this whole time."
Her eyes averted to the floor as she reflected on the events that transpired in Hell.
"I...I promised my people that I would help them reach absolution, and...I...I haven't even found out what happened to them."
She looked up at the Slayer again, desperation in her expression.
"I've been getting teleported around so much, and I haven't even found out where all of my subjects are, and if they're okay. I haven't had any time to get my bearings, or talk to my friends, or-"
Her fists balled in frustration, and she groaned in anger.
"Damn it!" She shouted, garnering the attention of nearby working personnel. A menacing look from the Slayer quickly turned them back to their tasks.
"I just…" Charlie muttered. "I don't have any clue what's going on, and that scares me. I don't know how you can just...pick yourself up and keep fighting, even when you've been yanked and thrown around into dangerous situations."
She picked up her face and crossed her arms, looking the Slayer in the eye.
"But, if that's what it takes to keep everyone I love safe, then I have to adapt! Let me help you in battle, Slayer! Please!"
The Slayer stood there, silent as usual, but seeming to consider her words. Charlie noticed one of his fingers scratching his thumb, as if in thought. After a few moments, he suddenly began walking toward one end of the room, beckoning Charlie to follow. Isabella, who was standing nearby, noticed the Slayer leaving.
"Slayer," She called out. "Where are you going? We need you to organize-"
The Slayer's visor turned to her, and she immediately clammed up. He turned back to Charlie, beckoning once more, and they left through the side door.
They walked through another part of the facility, where people in camo fatigues were doing drills and exercises, or resting and chatting casually around coffee and vending machines in common areas. As the Slayer passed by, there was a noticeable silence that fell upon those seeing him. It wasn't a coincidence either.
He commanded the rooms he walked into, with an indisputable authority that surrounded him like an aura. Charlie was jealous of this ability, especially since she herself was supposed to be a symbol of authority in her own world. She hoped that, as time went on, she might be able to have this same air of authority.
Finally, after a few more turning corners and long hallways, they came upon a door at the far end of a hallway. The Slayer turned the knob, and they entered into a quaint living quarters, a bathroom to their immediate right and a small bedroom area with a TV and a king-sized bed. A long, rectangular window gave an overlook of the expanding forest outside, mountains rising high in the distance. If it weren't for the ominous, grey, thundering skies overhead, the sight would have been spectacular.
Charlie felt her heartbeat quicken even more than before as she realized where the Slayer had brought her to. His own personal quarters, just her and him…was he planning to…?
The Slayer walked over to the bed, taking a seat on the end of it, leaving space for Charlie to sit. Tentatively, she walked over, taking a seat herself.
And then, something shocking happened, that Charlie never would have expected in all her time around the Slayer.
As she took a seat next to him, he took his helmet off.
Charlie was frozen in place, unable to process what was going on. She was staring directly at the face of the Slayer, and she had no words that she could form with her mouth.
His face was riddled with scars, so many that she almost couldn't tell if it was an entirely different mask. His hair was black and ruffled, not styled in any fashion whatsoever. His lips were cracked and bloodied, as if he'd spent his whole life preventing them from ever parting.
But above all else, his eyes were the most distinguished feature. Bags upon bags under his eyes, as if he had not spent one night sleeping during his long crusade, but the eyes themselves still shone with an aggressive, righteous passion, a flame that had not once been snuffed for all of his existence.
…
Charlie's eyes glanced around for a moment, confused. She had expected the Slayer to say something, considering he had taken off his helmet.
However, she assumed this was not the case as the Slayer bowed his head ever so slightly for her to speak. It was at this time that she realized she had things to ask him.
"Slayer...why are you so intent on helping me? On protecting me?"
The Slayer's expression softened as she asked this question.
"I mean, I-I haven't done anything noteworthy, at all. I haven't contributed to most of the fights, I haven't offered any strategic planning or-"
As she rambled on about her lack of accomplishments, the Slayer sat silently, listening to what she said. She confided her deep insecurities, her sorrows and joys, her anger and her feelings. It felt like hours that he'd been listening, but as she looked at the nearby digital clock, it had shown that only 30 minutes had passed.
Her eyes turned back towards the Slayer, and she reeled back, gasping.
The corner of his mouth was being tugged ever so slightly. He was...smiling.
"Slayer…" She muttered. "...Isn't there a better name for you?"
The smile disappeared, and she cried inwardly at losing that marvelous sight. It seemed as though he would not offer another name, and so she turned away for a moment, somewhat offended. There was something bugging her, as if she knew that he would not speak, but it still hurt her to confront this idea.
But, she did have one more question for him…
"Slayer...why do you ignore the other demons, my people?"
She was dismayed as his expression tightened up again, but she wanted to press it further.
"I don't understand it, Slayer. What did they do to you? Is it because they're demons?"
She wanted to sob as he turned away, grabbing his helmet and putting it on once more. It felt as if she had made progress in bonding with him, and she didn't want to lose that feeling. But, she could tell she wouldn't be getting any answers out of him right now.
He got up from the bed, walking back towards the door of which they came from, opening it.
"Shit!"
Beliel's presence awaited on the other side, seemingly to his surprise. He had previously been leaning against the wall, downing a bottle of Ambrosia he'd somehow kept on him. In his drunken state, he noticed the Slayer, and a half-smile ran across his face.
"Oho!" He exclaimed, half-heartedly raising his bottle. "There he is, the man of the hour. How goes it-"
He stumbled over his words as the Slayer walked past him, ignoring his declarations.
"...And there he goes."
As the Slayer walked off, Charlie turned to Beliel, waving with one hand.
"Hey, Beliel. Sorry about...that."
Beliel flopped against the wall again, taking another swig of his ambrosia.
"It's fine. Nothing I'm not used to."
Charlie stood there, watching with pity as Beliel indulged himself with intoxication. He was clearly downcast, but she had no idea why. But as she remembered her time in that land of Heaven, she had connected a few dots after spending some time thinking...
"Beliel."
"...Hey."
"...What actually happened on that day your land was attacked?"
Her suspicions seemed to be confirmed as he bit his lip, a variety of emotions running across his face. He ignored her at first, taking another swig of the bottle.
"Beliel."
"WHAT?"
She slightly recoiled at his harsh tone. He'd never spoken like that before; It was like a burst of aggressive energy that ran through the atmosphere. But she was determined to find out the truth.
"...What happened outside that room we found you in? There were marks and scratches of some kind of struggle, but none of it seemed to indicate people trying to get into your room."
(Queue 'Tip Toe' by Patrick Reza)
Beliel's back-end slid down to the floor, his dead eyes staring into oblivion.
"...They...protected me."
Charlie's eyebrows furrowed intently.
"What do you mean?"
Charlie recoiled as Beliel took another swig of the bottle, this time gagging and vomiting on the floor to his left. Charlie reached to try and offer assistance, but he waved her away.
"What the fuck do you think I mean?" Beliel hissed. "They liked me. I was the only fucking angel that treated them like people. It cost me my status, my position, my power and authority. But I wasn't going to treat them like fucking rats."
He wiped his mouth of the leftover bile, then raised the bottle to his lips.
"I sacrificed everything I had in that place for those souls. And I guess the day came-"
He drank deeply from the bottle, pulling it back as if it were toxic as he forcefully gulped down the drink.
"-that they decided it was time to...pay me back. So, when the invasion happened…"
He suddenly locked up emotionally, tears beginning to form in his eyes. It was getting more difficult for him to speak.
"They...dragged me...to that tower...since it is a beacon for...for warding off demons…"
His grip tightened around the bottle, until his knuckles were white. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his face was turning red.
"..And they...they threw me in there...much to my struggle...and they...locked me in there."
Clank.
The bottle fell from his hand, which moved to cover his face in shame. He curled up against the wall, shuddering and sobbing quietly.
"Oh god...Oh god...I could hear them screaming outside the tower...I could only watch them...as they were torn to pieces…"
His sobs were stifled as he tried to stop the flow of tears, to no avail.
"God...why did He allow that? Why did he let his sanctuary suffer defiling? Why did I have to watch them all get killed? Why didn't he do something?!"
His sobs grew louder, and Charlie knelt, wrapping her arms around him in comfort.
"They all died...so horribly...Evina, Hartley, Sebastian, Casey, Matthews, Jonathan, Beckley, McDonnell, Rita, Joachim…"
As he continued listing the names of those he knew, Charlie was suddenly hit with the sudden remembrance of a key fact she learned about that place.
About Hell….and its fake overpopulation problem.
She tried to hide it as her chest swelled with rage. All of her effort, her desperation to save her subjects in Hell from damnation, only to realize it was all a farce created to keep them all scared and weak, to fill the power fantasies of some twisted bastards…
As she led Beliel back to his quarters, she made a promise to herself that she would address that issue. Not now, when they were all on the brink of a massive war, but sometime in the future...she would tell her friends and subjects of the injustice she learned of.
"Husk! Husk!"
"What?"
"Did you know that if you hit an artery, you bleed out within only a few minutes? Oh! Or did you know that a red blood cell can circumnavigate your body in under 20 seconds? Or-"
"Holy shit, I must be Bill Cosby, cus' I don't remember fuckin' askin'!"
"Aw…oh, is that Charlie?! Hey, Charlie!"
Niffty, who was reading a multitude of medical information (thanks to ARC) and sitting next to an irritated Husk, had noticed Charlie making her way down the hallway, her arm wrapped around a drunken Beliel. Charlie seemed startled when Niffty called out her name, but re-composed herself and waved at Niffty.
"Charlie, Charlie! Did you know that nerve impulses travel at over 249 miles an hour?!"
"Wow, that sounds kinda cool!" Charlie responded positively.
"Yeah, it is! Hey, where've you been, by the way? Everyone's been asking about you!"
"Oh, I, uh...I was just talking to the Slayer about...you know...strategic stuff…"
Niffty craned her head curiously.
"Strategic stuff?"
"Yeah!" Charlie insisted. "You know, battle plans...and all that."
"Hmm. Sounds complicated. Alright, then, once you're done with all that stuff, let's hang out!"
Charlie gave her the thumbs up.
"I'll be sure to, Niffty. Just gotta take care of all this other important work, you know. Anyways…"
Niffty noticed a sudden change in Charlie's expression. Her eyes seemed to shift from a state of slight confusion to adoration and romance, her mouth open slightly as she panted, almost as if she were in euphoria. This sudden transition in her expression disturbed Niffty, though she said nothing about it.
"...I have to go talk to the Slayer again. I'll see you guys around."
"Uh, okay then!" Niffty said, waving at her as she carried Beliel further down the hallway. "Safe travels and all...that."
"Yeesh." Husk mumbled, sifting through a newspaper in his claws, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. "That was fucking creepy."
Niffty turned to him, confused.
"What do you mean? I don't think I did anything-"
"Not you, her. I dunno what that face she made was all about, but it rang all the alarm bells in my head."
Niffty was concerned as Husk said this. He rarely commented on other people as it was in the first place, but the fact that he'd said that only served to make her worry even more.
"Why did she make that face...do you think?"
Husk lifted his eyes up to look at Niffty, then glanced back down at the newspaper.
"Did you notice the name she mentioned when she did that?"
"The...Slayer?"
Husk flipped to the next page.
"I'm definitely not the medical expert here, but I've seen plenty of shit in my day...and I've seen that kind of face a few times before."
"What kind of face?" Niffty asked.
Husk grunted.
"The face you make when you're in love with your captor."
Niffty recalled those words from only a few hours ago, when she had asked Husk to quiz her on a psychology book she'd studied.
"...Are you saying she has Stockholm Syndrome?"
"Not saying shit. Just giving you my thoughts on it. I mean, think about it. How the fuck did Charlie forget about him slaughtering nearly half of Hell's population so quickly? How did she just up and join him on his kill quest right after he killed her friends and subjects? Sure, he resurrected them, I guess, but that trauma doesn't just fuckin' disappear."
He groaned and shook his head, flipping to the next page and taking a puff from his cigarette.
"Well, I guess we can talk to her later about that. I'm not looking to argue against a guy that tore through literal Hell and wants more."
Even as he said that, Niffty couldn't help but worry for Charlie. They hadn't gotten to know each other much up to now, but she could sense the goodwill that Charlie carried, and she felt that Charlie was somebody that deserved the best.
"Well, let's just keep an eye on her for now, okay?"
"Whatever floats your boat."