Getting sucked and thrown through portals wasn't exactly his definition of fun.
Especially if that portal took him somewhere worlds away from his mission; an agitating and fresh memory even after eighteen years. Maybe even nineteen. He lost count of his birthdays at this point.
What the Doom Slayer didn't expect, though, was that it would take him someplace familiar. And boy, familiar how.
The Slayer stared out at the thick, grey-green clouds from under one of the plenty concrete, dome-like protrusions the civilisation was known for. The spine-like rooftops, the rotunda structures, the impossible height of them... it was without a doubt. He was back on Argent D'Nur. Taras Nabad, specifically, judging by the backdrop of a soundless, desolate city shrouded in mist.
The crack of thunder roused Daisy; the princess still in his arms the way in which they'd departed Earth; and he inspected her, staring sombrely at the cold sweat on her skin, her shallow but laboured breathing. The young woman was in dire straits. Unattended with wounds like that, she would possibly last a day at best. The thought made his jaw clench with frustration.
Food. Water. Medicine. He needed supplies if he could ever hope to sustain her beyond that.
On second thought, where was Vega when he needed his protocol briefing?
'The reasons... for my func... tionality on this pla... net are un... determined, but it is... 'good' to... be back,' came the AI's jittering voice as if on cue, and the Slayer huffed with approval at his comeback. 'Scanning and... running diagnostics.'
A couple more seconds of allowing Vega to scrutinise the state of the princess, and he spoke again; this time sounding as clear and concise as usual.
'I detect a rise in core body temperature of 1.3 degrees Celsius. Serious compression injures dealt to the left and right biceps. The right ulna and radius shows signs of being shattered. Two fingers on the left and three on the right hand fractured. The right and left forearms have suffered severe muscle and tendon ruptures.
'I suggest immediate surgical removal of the right arm from the elbow down for the princess to recover at a stable rate. However, sutures and splints will be required for the remaining injuries.'
The words were like an iron fist to the gut. Amputation? What the hell had they done to her? The more he thought about it, the more he saw red. Daisy's pressing condition was the only anchor to his senses in that moment.
Despite that, the Slayer knew that wasn't the end of the bad news. Tearing open her shirt by the buttons, he allowed Vega a moment to scan the odd punctures here and there in the skin; trails of sticky blood accompanying them.
'Wounds to the body appear to be surface and muscle ruptures. I suggest immediate disinfection and surgical sutures to the inflicted areas to allow for a stable recovery.'
It should have been, but the reality was that her smaller wounds were no consolation to the Slayer. His eyes inadvertently trailed the patches of skin that weren't inflamed, scowling at the faint remnant of scars. They were old, but certainly there. Signs that something similar had happened to the princess in the past.
'My scanners are having difficulty detecting the materials required,' said Vega as the Slayer carefully draped the halves of her shirt over her again. He only regretted having nothing else to cover the noblewoman with. 'I'm afraid my capabilities are greatly restricted in this area.'
Not that it was any surprise. With one last glance at the unconscious princess, the Slayer turned, staring out at the ghostly remains of what was once a thriving civilisation. Well, all things considered, he could have wound up somewhere worse. Somewhere he'd never been before...
Somewhere the technology and knowledge he came with hadn't retained itself in some shape or form.
And so the Slayer set off, leaping from the broken bridge that was at some point a long, uninterrupted walkway. He traversed the ruins; an amalgam of grey stone, pale green overgrowth, and the clash of battle.
Clash of battle? Well, if Possessed pitted against a Pain Elemental counted as one.
It was another thing that didn't surprise him: demons. They seemed to be everywhere at this point. Though the Slayer couldn't complain-they were the perfect outlet for the fury burning in his veins.
He leapt directly into battle with a bang; Micro Missiles finding their target on a number of small fry as he swapped the Heavy Cannon out for the Ballista, firing directly into the floating ball's eye. It seemed to do the trick agitating the demon who growled, summoning a ring of glowing Lost Souls that dispersed just as quickly when the Slayer fired again, staggering it close to the ground. He grasped and pulled it to his level before promptly piercing the meatball from the mouth up with the Doomblade, skewering its eye in the process and dispatching it into a pile of gore.
An eerie quiet followed the short encounter; the Slayer almost hyper aware of his surroundings. Something felt... off. It was an intense gut feeling he couldn't shake off as he continued, blasting through small hordes of enemies, feeling a lingering, sticky presence on his tail. Each time he turned to confirm it, though, he was met with thin air.
'My sensors detect a constant level of Argent energy, though it would appear the area we are in is the main source of it,' Vega proved, sensing his suspicions. 'That renders the signature difficult to pinpoint... my scanners will continue to determine an isolated source as I generate a map.'
The inner hallways proved tricky - what with the fact that they were teeming with Cacodemons and swarms of Imps and Possessed - but it was nothing the Slayer couldn't handle, especially so when he was so close to his destination. He had run low on Energy cells and shotgun shells when he finally reached one of the inner sanctums of the massive domes; one of the few he recognised functioned as both an infirmary and armoury of sorts when the war had broken out.
He scanned the shelves with a smile; the sight felt like the first good thing he'd seen in ages. Glowing blue bottles lined the first couple of rows, and the rest were squeezed tight with ammo, and what a variety of it.
'I see...,' Vega hummed as the Slayer reached for an armful of the items on display. 'This greatly alters all probabilities concerning the princess's recovery. A recalculation of outcomes proves that if the Health administration succeeds, no intensive medical treatment will be required.'
The Slayer nodded as he turned back, retracing his steps to Daisy.
'How long do you intend to mope for, Nia?'
The blonde looked up from having stared between her open book and the bedroom ceiling, watching her sister at the office table opposite her.
This was becoming a weekly ritual. Petunia sneaking away to her older sister's palace and then looking glum for the next couple of hours. Daisy could do nothing to shake her out of it. The only thing that seemed to do the trick were the younger princess's collection of novels of which she thereafter binged in silence, absorbing herself in them for such lengthy periods that it returned her to her usual self by the end of it all.
Daisy could only assume it was a puberty thing, what with Petunia only having recently turned 14.
'... And how long do you intend to stare like that? It's bad manners.'
'Days.'
'Yes?'
'Don't you ever dream about someone looking at you the way they would a painting?'
A sigh came from the desk; Daisy glancing incredulously at her sister from over a stack of parchments and dip pens. A look Petunia knew exactly where it was going.
'No, no, listen to me!' she cried before Daisy's typical response came, sitting up quickly to face her. A comical sight, really, given the seventh princess's giant, floral gown. 'I just... really wonder the possibility of meeting someone who finds you perfect.'
'And? Pray tell what happens when you do?'
'One lives happily ever after.'
Daisy stared long and hard at her sister who; after a moment; flushed immensely at the sound of her own words.
'D-don't look at me like that! The thought must have crossed you at least once, Days.'
'Hm. I will not deny the chance that it has... but let me tell you something, Nia,' Daisy hummed, returning to her calligraphy, making broad and thin strokes with practiced ease. 'Having expectations of anything won't find you love-only disappointment.'
'... Well, that's a depressing way to live.'
Daisy unconsciously scowled at her own work, recounting a thread of unpleasant memories against her will. 'People are not kind. Not to peasants and half-blooded princesses, Petunia.'
'Now that's even more depressing! Are you listening to yourself, Days? No, that's wrong...,' she frowned and squinted, studying her sister carefully, warily. 'Who are you and what have you done with my sister? For I will have you know, imposter, that Daisy von Wolff is a headstrong and stubborn warrior, hardly a...'
'You don't understand, Petunia!'
She cried, her throat clenching with desperation as she shoved the inkpot and parchments to the floor, all clattering against wood and carpet in a violent mess. Petunia's expression betrayed nothing of her shock and horror as she stared at the scene unfolding; at the madness in Daisy's eyes, the sheer vulnerability and fear in them.
Everything in the room changed. It felt suffocating. Like the middle of the ocean. The air thick with tension and distress.
'You're going to... soon, very soon you're...!'
A garbled slew replaced the dreadful premonition. The room seemed to twist and spin like chemicals on a canvas, all melting into a spiral of indistinguishable colours... and shortly after, came the pain.
She had been possessed by a series of shivers by the time the Doom Slayer returned, setting down his haul of supplies as he scooped Daisy up in one arm gently and uncorked a Health potion with the other. He brought it to her lips; the milky blue liquid dribbling down her clenched jaw to no avail.
Her body was like a coil with no intention of springing back, impossibly tense with pain and fever. He tried again, this time tilting her back further, but the instant she managed to take in anything, gurgled and sputtered it back out; her features twisting in all sorts of anguish and discomfort.
She was a trooper. And the Slayer would be damned if he didn't find that attractive of her in any other situation. If only she wasn't so absurdly stubborn, even on the brink of death!
He barely stifled a long sigh as he removed his helmet and took a swig of the bottle himself. He didn't want to do this, but her antics really gave him little choice in the matter.
Grasping the back of her neck firmly but gently, he arched her back before their lips met; the princess squirming restlessly, fighting to escape his grasp, but he wouldn't give her that chance. Not until he administered every last drop he intended to.
A couple of seconds later, she relaxed; the Health potion already showing signs of progress as the swelling in her arms settled and the incisions inched closed a fraction, leaving behind only thin lines and dark bruises.
The Slayer pulled away from her at the confirmation of its effects; Daisy's skin colour assuming that of a humanly shade again. Replacing his helmet, Vega offered him a status report.
'My scanners detect a stable core body temperature of 37.4 degrees Celsius. The right arm appears to have regained 86% functionality, with minimal signs of muscle and tendon damage. I suggest incremental ingestion of foreign fluids in the event of it triggering an adverse reaction. Please standby as my scanners attempt to evaluate potential health risks.'
... Was what Vega requested, though the Slayer had no intentions of going anywhere. Taras Nabad was barely a shadow of its former self. Demons roamed here as freely as rats did in sewers, and knowing them, it was only a matter of time before they reached this place too.
The Slayer, though, would rather be caught dead than let that happen. He lost one Daisy back on Earth. And he sure as hell wouldn't be losing another just yet.