Trigger warnings: murder, violence.
For an AI, Vega saw plenty things in his 'lifetime'.
Experimentation on demons? Check. Several expeditions to Hell? Check. A massacre on Mars UAC? Check. A green-armoured marine that had been entombed for an indefinite number of years tear through the hellish hordes, only to be unceremoniously sent to another dimension?
As oddly specific as that was, check.
But for all Vega's extensive knowledge and learning capabilities, he was still learning. An aspect he'd almost forgotten entirely until he found himself standing in the Fortress of Doom hours after Princess Daisy's departure, blinking quizzically at the Slayer who alternated between bench presses, push ups, more digging in the lower chambers, and then... pacing. Pacing back and forth restlessly, menacingly.
The last time he saw him this afflicted by anything was when Dr. Hayden had coveted the Crucible from him. But this was different somehow. He seemed tense. And dare Vega say, worried.
'I believe Her Highness may have encountered an improbability, Slayer.'
The words were the only thing that seemed to give him pause as the Slayer stopped mid-lift, glaring so grievously at the opposing wall, any longer and he may have burned a hole through the steel. The AI incarnate turned to one of the screens he doctored his system on, typing furiously as he spoke.
'After running diagnostics, it is probable that within the 3 hours and 27 minutes unassigned to this mission, the possibility of Her Highness having been captured is increasingly high, at a percentage of 98.9. Incarcerated, at 78%. Neutralised, at 55%.'
The possibility seemed to shift something in him. It certainly shifted something in the room as well, quite literally; the ground shuddering as Vega turned to look, staring at nothing but the chink in the floor the heavy weight dealt from having being abandoned. The Slayer was nowhere to be found...
That is, not until minutes later in the Praetor Suit and with the Super Shotgun in hand. Vega could scarcely hide a smile at the sight.
'... After recalculating, it would seem the probability of retrieving the princess alive has greatly accelerated.'
All the royal palace anticipated for the day were performers to steal the king's interest. It was a tiresome practice, but it maintained a happy populace, even if for the short time allotted for the event once a year.
So it went without saying that no one expected the sixth princess to invade the palace basement. They didn't expect to find a red, otherworldly sword either.
More importantly, no one said anything about a mad and ruthless green knight. One that could smash through walls like haystacks, no less!
'A-alarum! Sound the alarm!'
'By God, the walls! How is he-!?'
The guards screamed in terror as they looked back into the palace dungeons, missing the last few steps upon laying eyes on the towering sight of the intruder. They'd never seen a man so big before. A man capable of instilling in them a similar dread the demons in the dungeons had... well, assuming he was a man. Because nothing about him seemed that way!
If the sight of him wasn't enough, the hulking figure reached for one of the fallen guards who let out a pitiful squeal as he dangled in the air.
'P-please! Mercy! Have mercy!'
'Please provide the location of the princess.'
The last thing either of the guards expected was such a cool and robotic voice from the monster. It was so shocking, so jarring, that the knight in the Slayer's grasp promptly passed out.
Pathetic.
Disgruntled and his patience wearing thin, the Slayer dropped the limp guard beside the other who pointed silently down the passage; sweat dribbling like a fountain down his face. It was adequate enough. An answer the Slayer started in the direction of instantly, and of which the knight realised he wasn't paid nearly enough to deal with.
He shouldn't have let her come.
He knew it the instant she convinced him not to go; her eyes betraying nothing of having some personal stake in this mission. But who was he to judge? Everyone had secrets; neither he nor Daisy were exceptions.
But most of all, damn, he trusted her judgement enough. Something he hoped he wouldn't regret, because at this point, regret was pretty close to what he felt as he descended into the deep, dark bowels of the palace.
'Detecting a life signature within close proximity,' came Vega's indication as he reached what appeared to be the deepest level of the palace. 'It is decelerating. I suggest you make haste, Slayer.'
Though he'd been brought and kept here as prisoner not too long ago, the dungeon he entered was far darker, more ominous, and certainly further underground than he recalled. Empty prison cells lined one side of the narrow, stone passageway; the cold and silence far from all semblance of a 'life signature'.
That was until he passed one that was still locked; a figure crumpled in the shadows behind bars. He could recognise those dainty wrists and that long hair from anywhere.
He wrenched the bars open as easily as one would part curtains and knelt beside her. He placed a hand on her shoulder... no response. He shook it gently, but that too was to no avail.
Scooping an arm under her, the princess turned over feebly in his grasp; the sight of her a gut-wrenching one. He thought he saw and experienced it all back on Earth-turned-Hell. But Daisy's shredded, bloodied clothes, the slew of crimson gouges on her arms and body, and the deathly pale she assumed made his blood boil.
This wasn't the work of demons. And truthfully, he didn't know which he preferred in that scenario-an instant death or harrowing survival.
'... My sensors detect abnormally high signatures of Argent energy in the upper chambers,' Vega was the first to break the silence from within his helmet. 'The figures match those produced by a Gore Nest... as well as the Crucible. What is the course of action, Slayer?'
It wasn't even a question of where he'd be going next. For the Slayer drew Daisy's cold, sleeping figure against him in one arm as he rose, and with the other, clenched the stock of the shotgun. Any harder and it may have splintered.
The familiar screech of an Imp was all it required to set him off as the Slayer turned, grasping it before it skulked away and cracking open it's skull against the wall within the very same instant; the sound of flesh and stone settling something ominous over the already haunting dungeon.
The body twitched to the floor, bleeding out a pool. There were even more awaiting the Hell Walker as he treaded out of the cell; Imps and Gargoyles scrambling away in fear as they hurtled back projectiles, but it was all to no avail.
Either the Doomblade or his fist had reached them before their attacks had the Slayer, splitting the demons open from the chest up or crushing their heads into fleshy pulps; the bloodied dungeon a testament to his foul mood. The massacre, however, would not stop there.
The further up the levels he traversed, the red that painted the otherwise pristine marble walls and floors were a manifestation of his imitable rage.
'Arriving at the source in forty metres.'
Vega said somewhere along the carnage; the Slayer crushing the leg of a Revenant as it screeched and dropped to the floor, pounding a fist through its skull that sent it splattering against the opposing wall. Within the same instant he heard the trill of a Prowler behind him, turning to grasp it by the back of the head just in time before its vanishing act. He yanked so hard at the thing's neck that it's spine and head detached all at once with a wet squelch; the Slayer hurling it across the room like garbage, it's body following shortly after.
'Twenty metres.'
A Pinky barreled into the hallway, hissing and squealing as its glowing amber eyes found its target. Little did the demon know, it would become the unfortunate half of this encounter.
The ground shuddered as it charged him; the Slayer dashing at the last second - a new and certainly approved suit augmentation - as he squeezed the demon by the tail, using its own momentum to slam it into the closest wall. And it would have retaliated quickly if not for the Slayer being quicker; the Doomblade thrusting mercilessly into its fleshy back twice, thrice, eviscerating it where it stood, painting the Praetor suit in a fresh coat of blood.
The princess stirred.
'Ten metres.'
'William...?' she made to ask, but only flinched instead; her body trembling ceaselessly as the pain returned. The bites burned terribly. She could scarcely feel anything apart from hot, twisting agony in her wrists as she tried to move, biting down a wail of consternation at the thought of having lost them.
The Slayer noticed.
'D-down...,' she hissed, shaking violently in his grasp; her eyes welling against herself. 'Let... let me down.'
He showed no intentions of complying; the Slayer continuing briskly to his destination, cracking open the doors to the throne room with a kick. If not for the especially aureate ornamentation on them, Daisy wouldn't have recognised it. For within it came the repugnant smell of blood and entrails; the walls and floor a compilation of circles and symbols she wished she hadn't recognised.
And at the centre of it all at the top of the stairs was the emperor... and her sister.
'Nia...,' she breathed; panic streaking through her at the sight of her tied to the throne. It was enough to compel her to her feet as she thrashed wildly against the Slayer's chest, glaring heatedly at the scene. Or perhaps her own pain. She couldn't tell amidst the frenzy of the moment.
'You monster!' she bellowed as he let her down, but refused to let go of her shoulder; the princess stumbling and swaying. Despite her desire to, she could hardly stand. 'What have you done to her!?'
The emperor stood behind her with the Crucible at his side, drawing the relic dangerously close to Petunia's neck. Deactivated, it still proved a perilous weapon. Daisy would know after having held it herself.
The action was enough to elicit a fearful whimper from the latter; Petunia's eyes swollen and her cheeks sunken in from only Lord-knows-how-long he'd kept her prisoner here. A fact Daisy knew nothing of until she was captured herself. She could only assume it happened after the engagement, but then too, the knowledge was of little comfort.
How long could that have been, truly? Four weeks? Judging by the frail and pallid state of her, she shouldn't have questioned it. The thought made her sick.
'Monster? You should be kissing my feet for sparing you this long, wretch,' the emperor spat. 'Not that you've much more time. They promised me many things in exchange for some... favours.'
If Daisy hadn't found herself so afflicted, she knew she would have retched at the thought; her eyes darting madly between her sister and the state of the room-evil, devilish runes painted in blood all around her. It looked almost like an altar. And her sister, a...
No. No!
'You twisted devil!' she roared in fury. 'Let her go!'
'Oh, no, you don't!' the older man hissed, poising the sharp bone across Petunia's throat when he noticed the Slayer reach for the weapon on his back.
'Try it and I'll send her straight to her dear mother!'
The Slayer paused, glaring hard at the older man. The Meathook, the Precision Bolt... he had enough tools at his disposal to take care of him. Easy.
The only tricky part about it was the old man himself. He was a wildcard. With how violently he trembled, he may very well hurt the noblewoman in his clutches ahead of time; the crazy look in his eyes enough of an indication he'd try it at any given notice.
The Slayer hated to admit it, but between the emperor and the princesses, his hands were tied.
'D-Days...!' Petunia sputtered behind snot and tears, breathing frantically beneath the threat of the weapon against her throat. 'H-he's mad... he's gone mad! Just run. Get out!'
'Never!' Daisy rasped, staring frantically between her father and sister with great confliction. 'Just wait for me... I'll...!'
'Find happiness, Days.'
Petunia quivered as she smiled, and in all the years they knew each other, Daisy never once thought it a heart-rending look. Not once had Petunia's joyful voice been capable of breaking her heart like it had then.
Her younger sister made to speak again; the words 'I'm sorry' forming on her trembling lips; when the Crucible drew a long, red line across her throat. Daisy could scarcely believe her own eyes. How her sister had drooped lifelessly on the chair thereafter; her dress bathing in crimson, blood beading to the floor that turned luminous and haunting shades of a flame. As if it were a beast coming to life. A grievous and hungry animal.
Daisy's knees buckled under her. She felt her lungs squeeze thin, her body shaking as if a tundra held her heart hostage. A blinding light engulfed the room and seemed to sear into her pupils; the force of a blast throwing her back. The only thing that kept her from falling was William, she knew.
But that little awareness she managed was quickly fading. She felt weak. Weaker than she ever had before. Her mind battling to stay alert before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she gave in to the forces against her, drifting through what seemed like time and space, a whole eternity...
Drifting through what felt like an entirely different dimension.
A/N: Hello friends! Hope everyone's enjoying the story! Just stopping by to say thank you to everyone who leaves a review, I really appreciate you taking the time to drop them!