For the honor of the Captain
Man, this took a lot longer to finish than I expected, having to deal with internet issues (I'm gonna write on my comp from now on instead of google docs), focus, and lack of ideas of how to get from point A to point Z. I apologize for the million year wait, @emizel, but this fic is finally finished! It probably wasn't worth the wait, but I still hope you enjoy regardless!
For anyone else reading, this is an AU for emizel's and my plot for MediEvil. Everything's mostly the same for this universe, the only difference is, is that emizel's character, Hilda, wound up turning into the Boiler Guard, Hecate. She is also very AU-ish on her own since this was my initial idea I had for her, but even though it's not the canon for the exact AU, emizel still encouraged my idea of this.
Warning: Character death, but they're already dead so does it entirely count?
Word Count: 4,344 _____
It was hard focusing on the task presented, worrying for the other residents of the castle. It was announced hours ago that Sir Daniel Fortesque approached the lair, having overtaken the fleet captain’s ship. The would-be hero was on a winning streak that far exceeded their own, and it was downright pitiful how he lucked out against Zarok’s army. Today, that would end. At least, that’s what Hecate hoped.
Her gaze had shifted to the gate several times during hers and Zarok’s preparations to shift into the last stage and conquer Gallowmere once and for all. The mechanical mage couldn’t help her actions, anxiety plaguing her mind on who would come from that entrance. No one was allowed in other than the Captain of the Boiler Guards, requiring to report his success. Sir Daniel, the blighter, would not adhere to such rules.
Kesten was strong, she’s always known this despite denying the concept in the beginning, but he’s lost several times over to that skeleton. This previous time he returned from the repair bay, there was a notable mark Fortesque left on the guard’s chest. The thought infuriated her once more, mixing with fear for the captain. What sort of powers had Fortesque obtained to harm her captain?
Hecate stumbled in her work, somewhat embarrassed from that silly mishap. Why was she thinking about it in a notion other than following under him? Her arms grew a little hazy in her flustered state, berating herself for such thoughts. Though she tried to ignore them, she couldn’t help but focus on it now.
Brief memories of their time serving under Master Zarok together filled her memory, her boiler growing full with happiness. The happiest she’s ever been since her creation has always been with him. Even before they began interacting outside of business, those times were special to her as well, no matter how dull.
Her furnace burned hotter, imagining how many more memories they could create when Zarok finally seized control of Gallowmere. It was a grand task and though it would be sometime before they could have peace to themselves, she relished the idea of relaxing with him. No hero’s to worry about and a brief respite from orders sounded heavenly to her. Perhaps they should venture out on their own accord for some alone time, with Zarok’s permission of course.
The sound of chugging metal caught both hers and her lord’s attention; Someone was coming by train. Hecate couldn’t run fast enough to the balcony to look at who arrived, her professionalism long forgotten. Zarok followed her at a much calmer pace, a barely audible chuckle escaping him prior to reaching her side.
“I believe that is the quickest I’ve seen you move yet, Hecate. You must be excited to witness the results of our defenses.”
If he wished to call it that, sure.
It felt like centuries waiting for her master’s creation to halt, her eyes glued to the opening as footsteps sounded off. Something dropped in her core, noticing the silhouette emerging from the shadows was not that of who she hoped for. Entering from the darkness and stepping to the center of the chamber was Sir Daniel Fortesque, scuffed up, but still roaming the earth.
Zarok disappointedly muttered to himself, “So Kesten failed again I see. I suppose it cannot be helped.”
Hecate struggled to hear her Master through the fog that now clouded her mind, her focus solely on the knight below them. Even the movements he made while addressing the hero and thereafter hardly caught her attention. Her boiler grew scorching hot the minute she caught sight of something that did not belong to Fortesque as he moved around; one of Kesten’s knives hung on the skeleton’s waist.
Her fists clenched as she placed them on the balcony to lean over the ledge.
Why does he have that!?
She was brought out of her anger at the touch of a hand, reminding her of her position and company. Standing tall, Hecate did her best to remain calm in front of her Master and the enemy. The idea was good on paper, but nothing could quell the rage boiling inside.
How dare he keep a trophy of their battle! He continues to mock Kesten, even after defeating him.
It disgusted her to witness the false hero carry that on him, only to have it as a prize. She watched as the blade went unused against the Fazghouls, only using that chalice to keep his summoned spirits afloat.
Coward, won’t even fight his own battles.
A flaming chain shot out at the cur, forcing him to dodge and her eyes to keep up with his movements. With the Fazghouls defeat, Master Zarok’s very last line of defense appeared; Lord Kardok.
Hecate knew the champion had seen the item when he sent a glance her way. She stiffened at the unwanted and unneeded attention and pity, feeling as if she’d break down from his gaze. Kardok must have picked up on this, returning his attention to his opponent and begun unleashing an unhuman assault of fiery madness upon him. She could tell he was just as furious over the news of Kesten’s loss as her, albeit for a different reason. He didn’t shy away from letting the hero know his own hatred in the form of several lashes.
The skeleton struggled as the attacks struck him but nevertheless managed to survive. Just when she thought Lord Kardok might be winning, the enemy pulled out a glove and channeled a lightning attack to push him back.
Clenching her fist, Hecate went rigid.
That must be the weapon that gave Kesten that mark.
It made sense. Lightning was one of the few substances that left scorch marks, especially on a Boiler Guard. The woman doubted he had any explosion inducing weapons on him, but she shouldn’t underestimate him; it was a mystery how he damaged Kesten until now after all.
In the brief respite, Dan downed a potion of some sorts even with Kardok’s soldiers coming to aid him. They were swiftly defeated with that accursed blue sword of his. Lord Kardok, not having gone against him before, was left unaware of the weapon’s strength. A briefing on it differed from facing the blade himself, and he more than likely believed he could handle it. His horse on the other hand…
Circling around towards the hero to ram him, Sir Daniel evaded the undead with a somersault. The sly cur put enough force into his arm as he went, the large blade colliding with the horse’s limbs to send the once majestic beast crashing to the ground. A loud cry fell from the pair’s mouths on their impact, a small pillar of fire following the collision. Cunning as the knight was, he knew to stay away as Kardok’s horse stood on fractured bones, ready to continue. The larger skeleton hit the ground with the mace ball, an enormous wall of fire shot at the hero, knocking him to his knees. Galloping to the now kneeling skeleton, Kardok’s horse was ready for revenge, leaving fire in their wake. Now on top of Fortesque, the creature released an angered neigh as they raised their hooves to bring them down on their enemy. Fortune continued to grace the skeleton, once again dodging the attack. Lucky for them, it positioned Sir Daniel point-blank to the horses flaming legs. He avoided the initial attack unscathed, but the burst of hellfire erupting from the stomp got him, sending the skeleton up into the air.
Yes! Lord Kardok has him!
With the skeleton defenseless, Lord Kardok began twirling the flail in his hand, murder looming in his eyes.
Perhaps he could never defeat Kesten, but destroying his ender would be the next best thing. She thought a little somberly.
Making his final descent, Sir Daniel still refused to give up now fiddling with his pouch. Kardok noticed this and flung the chain with as much force as possible, sparks of light radiating from the tool. The airborne skeleton glanced to the oncoming weapon, panic setting in with its speed, forcing him to feverishly dig through the bag, finally producing three daggers. With a flick of his wrist, a blade sped to collide with the spiked ball, another following to deter its path, and the final one to knock it in an alternate direction.
Hecate watched this all take place and was baffled that someone with one eye had the precision to achieve the accomplished task. Yes, she and every worker that mattered around here lacked physical eyes, but they didn’t require them.
She knew Zarok was stunned as well, his own body now bending over as he clutched his head with his free hand.
Unseen to the horsemen was Daniel’s hand reaching into his quiver, pulling out three glowing arrows.
Hecate knew what that meant.
Warrior pride be damned, she had to interfere. Her magic traveled faster than Zarok’s and though she required time to generate real damaging spells, a quick one should still at least halt Fortesque’s assault.
Her right hand gripped her staff and- wait… why is there nothing? Panicking, she looked to her hand to see it void. Head shooting in every direction seeking the metal rod, Hecate froze.
It’s in the other room near her station. She can’t run fast enough to get it either!
Head snapping towards the arena, time seemed to slow as Sir Daniel fired an arrow. Hecate felt sluggish as she bolted to the edge, trying to yell out for Kardok to move. Only, she was too late. The projectile had struck and created a blue explosion, merging with the red flames of the skeleton and his steed. Another arrow struck, further increasing the mass. The mage nearly dropped to her knees as the last arrow struck, a thundering cry echoing from the arena as Kardok went up into magical flames. In an instant, Zarok’s champion was no more.
She stared at the spot where her ally once stood, unbelieving what she watched. Zarok’s best warrior was incinerated. His greatest soldiers were gone. The elite guard he had so painstakingly created had fallen. Who’s to say what happened to everyone else in the castle.
Her mind went to Scrap, recalling the other Boiler Guards gave them an important task to carry out. What the mission was, she had no inkling, but her emotions plagued her still. Something wanted to escape from the openings of her eye plate. The shadow of the feeling brought a sense of questionable nostalgia. She has never experienced this before, yet it seems so familiar.
Dead eyes shifting to Fortesque, she nearly saw red. He made a safe return to the ground and was storing his bow away, eye looking to Zarok.
The wizard slammed his staff down in frustration. “Bugger! Right then, that’s it! I’ve just about had enough of your meddling!”
As he spun to leave, she called out, “Master Zarok, wait…”
He paused, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “What is it, Hecate? Can’t you see that I’m in the midst of something?”
Slowly facing him, she squeezed her hands, hardly feeling them anymore. “Let me fight your enemy, milord.” Brow raised, Zarok’s mouth down-turned further, unconvinced. Continuing, she did her best to not rattle. “Please… I can take him. You shouldn’t waste your valuable time on him, sir. My magic will destroy him before you know it.”
His dark eyes cast on the floor, gripping his chin with his free hand in thought. “You do have the best means to dispose of him… but you severely lack the speed which Kardok and Kesten possessed.”
Hecate flinched at the mention of Kesten’s name but continued. “I need just one hit and he’s easy prey. He’s tired from battling as well, Master, more vulnerable to mistakes.”
Zarok continued to stare at the floor, and she was thankful the skeleton below didn’t scale the wall to come after them. Her Master was good for split decision making, but right now he was struggling.
A few seconds later he sighed, reluctantly nodding. “Alright. But the second I find you unfit to battle, I am stepping in. With Kesten out of the painting, you have no means of protection.”
Her voice was lost to her, bowing in response before treading to the rear chamber to retrieve her staff. Picking up the forgotten rod, she clenched it so hard she was hoping to leave a dent. Her strength was not like his though. A small sob made it past her throat. She couldn’t focus on him right now, she had a skeleton to exterminate.
Reigning in her emotions, Hecate descended the stairway to the corridor that led to the arena. Blanketed by the dark, Sir Daniel did not see her, but she could clearly see him. Her ire reignited anew, and this time, she did not have to save face. Lingering no longer, she strode into the light with her staff in hand, preparing a spell. Might as well get a head start with a powerful one.
Sir Daniel’s unwavering sight now set on her fed the fire further. Surprising her, he stowed his regular blade on his belt, making no move to draw any of his other fancy weapons.
Was he already giving up?
Almost laughing to herself, Hecate shook her head. Sir Daniel knew how to tick her off. “Is this some game to you, Fortesque? You dare mock not only me but the other warriors you’ve fought within the castle walls! Draw your weapon!”
Shaking his head, he replied with near incomprehensible speech. “Nuh-uh.”
Furious as is, she was inflamed now. Literally. Sparks of fire radiating from her boiler. “I don’t mind an easy win, but it is disgraceful to those who fell if you don’t show me the same respect!”
The skeleton shrugged as he kicked the ground, seeming uninterested in what she had to say.
Magical attack nowhere near its full potential, Hecate aimed the staff head at him. She would have liked some form of a challenge and sweet revenge, but if he preferred to play that card, she’d send him back to where he belonged.
“Fine! Burn in hell, Fortesque!” Without as much of a warning, the blast of vile magic soared to him.
Sir Daniel’s attention finally drew to the speedy attack, sweating bullets by the looks of it. It was too late for him. He dug his grave with the lack of regard.
In a completely unexpected turn of events, he drew Kesten’s knife at the last second, a sense of fear following.
What was he doing!? She wanted to recover that after he perished, she couldn’t recover ashes!
Her thoughts were put on a screeching halt in the next minute; Sir Daniel had used the knife and sliced her spell in half, both parts disintegrating in on themselves.
Dumbfounded was an under exaggeration: What the hell happened!?
Apparently, he had not expected the results either, glancing in both directions where the fragments of her attack passed. Once it was confirmed he had in fact deflected the magic, his posture was more jovial as he shot her a smug look.
“Where did you get that knife!?” Both combatants focused on Zarok, his pale complexion somehow even paler. “Forget that, where did you learn you could do that!?”
Attention drawn to the skeleton, he twirled the weapon, shrugging.
“Hecate, you need to be more cautious with your attacks! That knife was enchanted in the event your magic ever grew out of control. It can destroy or deflect your attacks!”
Her head could not have angled toward Zarok any faster. “It what!? Why did you not tell me this before I came down here!? Actually, why was I not informed of this prior!?” Catching herself, she hurriedly added, “M-Master Zarok, forgive me, but it would have been nice to know everything about my partner’s artillery!”
“Now’s not the time for this conversation, Hecate, it was a ‘what if’ scenario. I didn’t expect the fool would use Kesten’s knife, let alone the enchanted one. It was hardly worth mentioning.”
This was knowledge she should have received at an earlier point. Like a few decades earlier! Why didn’t Zarok trust her with this information? What else was he hiding from her? Was Kesten aware he had an enchanted blade?
“I recognize that look Hecate, but you need to focus on the battle. Unless you call for my intervention?”
“No, sir. That is unnecessary.” A small amount of venom underlined her words, still not thrilled at the secret.
Footsteps began approaching, dragging her focus back to her foe. Taking aim, she flung another mass of energy at him, much weaker in contrast to the last. As before, Daniel deflected the blast with the knife. Panic overtook her as doubt set in for her abilities. She was better than this! Hecate began firing multiple spells at the skeleton as she backed away, desiring to maintain the distance in between them. Every attack cast was diverted or dodged as he advanced, her precision further faltering.
He was so close now.
She was unable to send an attack out as he was practically on top of her, slashing the knife straight down. Thankfully, she still had enough common sense to use her staff and block the attack. Much to her surprise, there wasn’t much force behind it. Hecate knew Sir Daniel was putting his all into it, his body tense from applying as much pressure as possible.
A wicked smile formed on her ‘lips’. The earlier fights exhausted him, leaving her the stronger of the two. How pitiful.
Humoring him, she gradually kneeled to one knee, pretending to struggle in their altercation. Almost leaning down to both, Hecate flipped the tables; pushing off her hind leg with as much force as she could, she effortlessly threw Dan off his footing, making him backtrack to catch his balance. Staff now free, it was used to strike at Sir Daniel’s legs, knocking him to the ground. She slammed the end of the object onto his torso to keep him in place, adjusting her hold as she approached.
Laughter burst from the balcony, almost camouflaging the sound of the train making its return. Hecate could only assume it was reinforcements, but she chose to ignore it in favor of her prey.
“My, my, how the mighty have fallen. I expected more of a fight from you, Fortesque, but I see my colleagues had all the fun.” She channeled her magic into her staff, the action not unnoticed by the hero. “I would have preferred a fair fight,” The skeleton eyed her incredulously, but she continued, “but I understand with the weapon you carry, it wouldn’t have been much of one. It’s a shame it all has to end like this. I was dying to disintegrate you piece by piece, make you wish you were never reanimated. I suppose we can’t all get what we desire in the end, no?”
The train outside stopped, unknown metallic sounds following, echoing into the night and room.
Staff nearly charged, Hecate felt more enraged as Sir Daniel looked to the entrance, a smile forming on his boney face.
“What are you staring at!?” His smug eye glanced back to her as soon as the creaking stopped. “You’re about to rejoin the dead and you have the nerve to smile at me like that!?”
“Hecate.”
Shocked at the interruption, she lost all concentration on her spell.
That voice…
Slowly, Hecate’s head twisted to the entrance, eyes unbelieving. “Kesten..?”
Low and behold, standing proud as ever with his firearm was the Captain of the Boiler Guards, Kesten. Several pieces of armor were missing, particularly the entirety of his left arm and parts of his legs, and was banged up to hell, but here he was. Standing. Still alive.
Her body shook, relieving pressure off the skeleton beneath, the conflict essentially forgotten.
“Well, well, you survived I see, Kesten.” The commander’s attention diverted from her to their Master. “But my oh my, you were in quite the brawl, weren’t you? I’m impressed you’re still standing with all that grime and incisions to your plating. Hecate was about to finish up taking care of Fortesque-”
Zarok was cut off as Kesten swiftly held his gun up, firing at the Wizard. A yelp sounded from him, dodging in the nick of time but not quite escaping the bullet. A string of blood escaped the wound that was now present along Zarok’s left cheek.
Hecate stared at the Captain, shocked at what he did. Zarok, likewise, slammed his staff down.
“Kesten! What has gotten into you!? Fortesque is your enemy, not me!”
Smoke now evaporated from the blunderbuss, Kesten lowered it. “I will fight your battles no longer, Zarok. You’ve used Hecate and I for far too long in this selfish game of yours to control Gallowmere.”
Appalled, the Wizard sneered at him. “What are you getting at, Kesten? I created you two and I can dismantle you both if I so choose!”
“I believe you’re aware of what you stole from both of us, Zarok.” Angling his head in her direction, he spoke words she didn’t expect to hear. “Captain, your orders!”
Still stunned, it was easy for Sir Daniel to knock her staff off himself and roll out of the way into a standing position. Dusting himself off, the skeleton shrugged.
“I think we know what the end goal here is, Kesten.”
Kesten nodded before truly focusing on her. Hecate struggled to pay attention to either of them as she backed up, confused more than ever. What was happening? Why was Kesten acting so strange? Why was he being friendly with their enemy? She didn’t understand.
“Hecate, don’t just stand there, kill them!”
She froze at the command, clutching her staff tight.
Kill… Kesten? She just… got him back. Surely he was jesting… right?
Hecate stared at the Boiler Guard, conflicted. She received direct orders from the Master, but this was Kesten. Could she bring herself to go through with it? To kill the one she grew so fond of?
“Hecate, don’t listen to him, he’s been manipulating us this whole time.” Zarok sent a green bolt of magic his way, sidestepping it he was forced to glimpse between both magic users.
“Be quiet, you malfunctioning miscreant!”
Smoke wafted from Kesten, the telltale signs of anger rearing its head. “I’m working better than ever without your mind control spell plaguing my mind you wretch!”
Another blast of magic fired and missed, this time on Zarok’s account. “What would make you assume such a thing, Kesten?” A brief pause before the wizard began cackling and gestured to Dan. “Was it that good-for-nothing knight over there? I knew he had a way with words, but to fool you? I’m appalled you believed such drivel.”
Smoke exploded out of Kesten’s boiler and even his unarmored arm started to dissipate into steam. Verbal anger was one thing with the Captain; frightening and something to avoid at all costs. This new silent rage spoke of danger, putting Hecate on edge.
The Captain appeared normal, but he had changed in so little time. It was like he was someone else. Did Kesten speak the truth with mind control? Or was Zarok correct in Kesten’s impairment?
Hecate weighed the facts and all sources pointed to…
With an iron grip on her staff, she channeled magic into it. Fear and anger coursed through her body, adrenaline high as her head snapped to Sir Daniel. His expression grew nervous once more, holding his hands up in a placating matter.
He murmured out to Kesten, seeking to gain the Captain’s attention while also not trying to set Hecate off.
“You… this is your fault.” Now it was her turn to slam the end of her staff down, the action causing the tip to glow brightly. Unable to stop a palm from moving, she gestured about while yelling at the skeleton. “Everything was fine until you returned from the grave! We would have conquered Gallowmere and not lost anyone without your interference! You destroyed everyone I knew! Damaged the Captain!” She took aim, unhearing the fast footfall and explosions going on behind her. “I won’t forgive you for that, Fortesque! For my Captain and Zarok’s honor, I will destroy yo-urk!”
Sharp pain in the backside of her boiler forced her to preemptively fire her attack, missing the undead by just a fraction. She hasn’t experienced this kind of pain since her early years, back when she believed she could handle everything without Kesten. The woman couldn’t even move her body, it hurt so bad. Still, she forced herself to twist her head and see if she could make out the offender. Her body began to shake more beyond the physical injury.
“W-why..?”
Towering behind her was Kesten, leaning over some but still shadowing over her. With his close proximity and the green and black smoke that billowed from her body, she already knew what had caused the suffering. He had stabbed her in the back with his knife.
Zarok’s ranting and cursing was audible, but no outside sounds registered. All senses were hyper-focused on the Captain.
Pain erupted once more as she felt the knife leave her, but it stung nothing like the silence of the other Boiler Guard. The discomfort grew as she stumbled to her knees, unable to look at him further. Her staff dropped in favor of curling in on herself, clutching at her midsection. The effort caused the injury in her back to ache worse, but she did not care. The sting of betrayal brought a distorted choke from her.
Another chill shook her frame as she heard a soft click, followed by the barrel of a gun pressing to the back of her head.
Every sense all but faded away, her concentration on the weapon. One thing she thought she might have imagined was the soft words of “I’m sorry” before everything went dark. _____
Part 2 Part 3