2:13AM AS I FINISH THIS ONE UP. Right back at it again with the sleepless hours *ka-ching* and the finger guns *points and imitates shooting*. No reason for this either. Just some mindless brain vomit and angst / distrust. Ive been having bad health times for past month and i think its putting me in a worse spot than the usual mental stuff. 😞 throwing words down sometimes gives a dash of serotonin so here we are
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"HEY KID, D'YA TRUST ME?"
Your gaze is diverted from the enormous taken ogre spawning into the arena towards the Drifter, shouting as he ran to be heard over the monstrosity's roars. He's dashing over to one pile of weapons crates filled with untested Strand hybridized guns that the two of you were supposed to be testing out on excess packs of thralls, taken from Gambit. The ground quakes as the ogre stomps into existence and you see Drifter turn his head to lock eyes with yours.
"No."
The word tumbles from your lips before you can register what you're saying, it's barely audible amidst the ogre's howls, but you see instantly that Drifter read your lips and knew. Almost imperceptibly his eyes briefly widened in shock and something deep within them shatters, then his face hardens into one of his usual showman's masks.
For a moment you almost didn't believe that thats what you saw in his eyes, but you know its the truth when Drifter overshots the crates and trips. His momentum carries him forward and he tries to roll into it to regain control, but he lands right outside of cover and in full view of the enraged ogre's eye. Before you can react, the orgre swings a clawed arm at Drifter and with a bellow, sends him flying. Drifter arcs across the clearing before colliding with one of the gnarled red trees with a sickening crunch of armor. His body falls to the ground and doesn't move.
The ogre releases a triumphant roar and shuffles to face Drifter's prone body, it's mutated eye beginning to quiver. You rush forth, lobbing a fusion nade at the ogre's legs and lunge for the weapon crates. The grenade sticks and ignites, exploding with a sticky wetness as it begins to burn into the ogre's leg. The creature howls in pain as it's staggered, body lite with a strange orange glow from the solar grenade. It finds you just as you claim a heavy stock from the weapons crate and it roars out a challenge. An eyeblast is soon to follow, sending woodchips and loose munitions flying from the crates you used as cover. You find a heavy magazine of ammo that seems to match the stock in your hands. To your relief the magazine clicks in place and the gun's automatic loading readies the ammo. The crates behind you creak with stress and you take the cue to tumble out of the way. As you go for new cover, you search for Drifter's body at the base of the gnarled tree, but there is nothing. A dull click from the weapon in your hands signals that it's ready to fire. Raising the heavy stock to press against your shoulder you level the experimental weapon and peer out of cover, scanning for the taken ogre. You take aim for the center of the ogre's eye and pull back the trigger with a heavy click. The weapon whirls as the trigger is pulled back then goes silent once it clicks home. Half a second later it fires, the impact thundering through your shoulder and almost knocking you down. Even though you braced for the strong recoil, the stock of the weapon jumps and the rebound dislocates your shoulder. Too heavy for one hand, you drop the weapon and reach for the handcannon at your hip. The Ogre's head is kicked back by the force of the round finding its target, but when it steadies itself again, you don't see any signs of damage.
You fire the entirety of the handcannon into the ogre's head, dodging for cover as it swipes at you with broad strokes of its clawed hands. They whistle past you by mere hairs, shredding the bark off of one those red trees. It begins to roar once more, but instead makes a choked gurgle instead. Curious, you cautiously peer out from your cover to see the ogre clawing at its head. A faint swirl of green threads knots and twists around itself within the ogre. The eye of the ogre begins to swell, then bulge as a massive Threadling burrows its way out of the ogre. It bursts through at the exact point you fired the hybrid weapon at earlier. The giant Threadling attacks the ogre again, shearing through its corrupted flesh and slaying the beast. Instead of dissipating like its smaller counterparts, the Threadling jumps through and around the corpse, mutilating it further.
Dumbstruck, you step fully out from cover to watch this spectacle. As you do, a twig snaps loudly beneath your foot and the Threadling suddenly stops. It squirms around to face you, shivering, then it launches itself at you to attack. Its too fast for you to react properly in your befuddled state, but from your left comes rapid shotgun shots that tear through the Threadling in a spray of green pellets. The Threadling dissipates and you turn to face the Drifter, clearly battered but somewhat recovered from his ogre-taught flying lesson. He wipes a crusting line of blood from his chin with one hand and gestures with the barrel of the shotgun with the other.
"Get ready for transmat. I'll send your Ghost the payment for testing out the weapons in a bit."
Drifter pauses to suck in a breath through his teeth, eyeing the heavy hybrid weapon and thinking for a moment.
"Hmm. Doubt the Vanguard will like killer, giant Threadlings. Gonna have to trash this batch o' guns this time."
He doesn't turn back to face you as he usually does. You take the awkward silence as a signal to leave and transmat up to your ship. Onboard, Ghost begins to scan your shoulder, putting it back in place and healing torn ligaments. A chime from the ship's console interrupts the tiny machine and its followed by a transmat request. You approve it with a wave of your good hand and the shimmering sounds of an incoming transmat ripple out shortly after. A handcannon appears on your ship's dashboard. You recognize the shape of it without getting up, but there's something different about it. An ornate snake in shifting, metallic green is painted over the barrel and rotary. A small paper note was sent along with it, on it was written:
"Worlds end. And when yours does, make sure you have a partner you can rely on."
In a scrawling handwriting. You know it's Drifter's penmanship. And you know it's an acknowledgment of yourself.
You give the ornament a fitting name:
Doubt.