I am so lucky to have found you. I’ve been alone for so long... I thought I would never find someone.
In all honesty, at first you seemed like all the others. Just another person to spend a few days with, maybe a week or two, fucking and doing whatever else we wanted. Then I, or the other, would leave and never look back.
Or I’d have to slit their throat. That’s happened a few times before.
But you.... you’re different. I see something in you. And... you see something in me.
i’m not sure what. Is it because we’re both broken, in our own ways? Do you think we can mend the damage? Or at least soothe it?
Whatever the case... I want to stay and find out.
I want to stay...
These thoughts strolled through Kane’s mind as her eyes started to droop. The moon was high in the sky, providing illumination for the bedroom. Angie had already fallen asleep, snoring softly. Kane hadn’t drifted away yet, so, for another minute or two, alone with her thoughts. Gazing into that face she had grown to love. The blonde smiled, reached out, and lightly brushed a finger across her lovers cheek.
“So lucky,” she whispered, just as sleep finally claimed her.
(Just a little thing that popped into my head. Kane created by me, Angie by @pixel-satan)
The distance is hidden in a dense wall of cloud, almost 50 kilometers away, stretching from the sky to the ground, streaked by lightning.
You do not know if it is natural to this world, or made by synthetic means.
What you do know is that the enemy awaits within that cloud.
You feel confident. You’re a part of the largest army your country has ever fielded. Plus, you’re in command of the latest armored vehicles your nation has produced. Larger and more powerful than most of their vehicles, which is saying something. All you need is a good line of fire and-
A warhorn sounded within the cloud.
Your thoughts stop in their tracks as the horns echos dies in the air.
The horn calls again. It is a deep, mechanical, yet primal sound. Like some ancient beast is rousing itself from decades of slumber.
And it is hungry.
You peer into the clouds. Before you can pull up your binoculars, you see a massive shape in the clouds… right before it emerged.
Your confidence evaporated.
It was the largest war machine you had ever seen. It was at least 150 meters high, broad, and vaguely man shaped. It’s arms were massive cannons, and there were more weapons were mounted on it’s hunched shoulders.
It was a god of war made metal. A giant weapons platform that would annihilate anything that stood against it.
And the most terrifying thing was, you slowly realized, was that it wasn’t alone.
Just a little drabble thing that I quote down cause of idea that got stuck in my head. Will probably write out a full version sometime later and incorporate it into my little project that I introduced here, which I have now titled A Red Galaxy.
So, here’s an @askmercyseries (created by the amazing @sai-shou) fic that I’ve created. It is most definitely not cannon, but I hope you all like it nonetheless. Also, I’d like to give a huge thank you to @jadekitty777 fortaking her time to edit this.
Note: this puppy is pretty long, 3600 words to be precise, so you better sit back and relax.
This is it.
This was how Chara was going to die.
She limped down the alleyway, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. The bullet hole in her leg hurt like all hell, though thankfully it seemed to have missed any bones and/or major arteries. Still didn’t stop her from cursing like a sailor though.
The day had started well enough. After a nice breakfast with the family, topped off with a private and passionate kiss with the wife, Chara had headed off to work. After getting to HQ and assembling the rest of Squad 8, she led them out on their daily patrol, at first dealing with a few minor problems, such as actually getting a cat out of a tree, a thing Chara thought occurred only in cartoons and bad cop shows (not that she watched any of the latter, of course). It was getting late in the afternoon when they head of a disturbance near the old factory district. Knowing that the place was rumored to be an Anti-Monster Cult meeting place, training camp, distillery, or playground, all depending on who you ask, Chara had her squad on high alert when they went in.
The trap was sprung just as it got dark.
Chara knew something was up. It was too quiet and too creepy of a neighborhood not to have something up. This part of town was virtually decrepit, barely anybody having lived there since the nearby factories shut down. There was nothing there but run down tenements and wild animals. Naturally leading from the front, she was just about to call it quits when she heard glass shatter behind her and felt a sudden heat against her back.
The Molotovs either landed perfectly or missed horribly, for when Chara spun around she was separated from the rest of her squad by a wall of flame. None of them had been caught in the flames, which Chara was thankful for. As the first cultists began to emerge from the shadows, she ordered the squad to get out of there and get help, guessing that this little party was for her. She was proven right when the AMs focused in on her and not her comrades, who reluctantly left their sergeant behind.
Chara wasn't going to stay around either. She ran towards an alleyway where the cultists weren’t coming out of, dodging their attacks and battering aside any who got in her way. She just got into the alleyways mouth when a shot rang out and she tumbled to the ground. The fearsome pain shooting up from the wound was only matched by an overwhelming anger and fear. She couldn’t die like this, stomped into a paste in some back alley! She was only saved when some overeager cultist misjudged their throw and blocked her off from the other AMs with another Molotov.
Which was how she got here.
Alone in an abandoned district with a mob of cultists hungry for her blood.
She was going to die. Alone.
She angrily shoved the thought aside. “I’m not dying yet, dammit,” she vowed through clenched teeth. With the flames still going behind her, she took a moment to rip off her right shirt sleeve and made an tourniquet with it. As the jeers of the cultists rang in her ears, Chara looked down at the numbers tattooed on her arm.
24601.
Tomorrow comes, she thought, thinking of Frisk. And I will see it.
With that familiar feeling in her soul, she stood up with a wince and made her way down the alley.
It was slow going with her injured leg, but she nevertheless made good progress. The moon was well on it’s way upwards when she came to a T section. Or rather, what was a T section before the hole in front of her ruined that. It looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, making a human sized hole. Close to human sized, anyway. Peering through it, Chara spotted what appeared to be a warehouse, about thirty feet away. Fairly large one too. If she could hide in there and lose her pursuers, she could make it out of here alive.
From the echoing shouts coming behind her, she hoped it would be enough.
Clambering through the hole, she started to hobble towards the warehouse as fast as she could. Her leg was burning and aching at the same time, protesting the strain she was putting on it. However, she’d felt much worse pain before and easily ignored it. The moon was high in the sky and a cold wind blew across the open space, which was surprisingly clear for an abandoned manufacturing complex. Chara figured that there’d be forklifts and left over scrap, maybe even some-
“Hey! Hey!! There she is!!!”
Ah crap.
She was just ten feet away from the yawning entrance of the warehouse. She willed her legs to move faster. Almost there…..
A rifle cracked behind her.
Oh………. Butts.
The bullet didn’t even pass near her, striking something wooden inside.
With the sweet sounds of the cultists berating the shooter receding behind her, Chara entered the warehouse. Taking a few precious seconds to adjust to the darkness, she let out a sigh of relief. Unlike outside, the warehouse still had some junk in it. There were crates almost everywhere, along with some shipping containers and a few forklifts. Many of the crates looked like they’ve been looted, including the one that the bullet had struck. After taking her little survey, Chara started moving again.
It wasn’t a moment too soon, for when she was far enough into the building, she heard the clatter of boots at the warehouse entrance.
“Damn, it’s bigger than it looks,” a voice spoke as Chara crouched behind a shipping container. “She could be anywhere….”
“Cut the chatter,” snapped another, commanding, voice. “Spread out and find that traitorous bitch. Mcneil, get the lights on.”
“Yes, Magos,” choused too many voices that Chara was comfortable with…….
Wait…… Magos?
Chara had to fight down a snort of amusement at the title.
What a bunch of dorks.
She crept towards the next set of crates. Even though the cultists knew she was in the building, Chara still felt hopeful. She just had to avoid detection until they assumed she had escaped.
If they assumed……
She kept on going, ghosting from cover to cover. However, her leg was slowing her down. It wasn’t long before AMs started creeping nearby her. They were mostly in pairs, sometimes in groups of three to five. One such pair passed by her, whispering amongst themselves.
“So how’d the Magos know this place still have power?”
“I don’t know, sumthin’ about gee-o-thermal enegy or some crap. Now shut it.”
“But… how’d he know it works?? I mean, it’s been forever since…”
They walked by without her catching the rest.
For the next hour or so, Chara evaded the cultists. Soft moonlight fell into the structure from skylights, though it was still fairly dark inside. She couldn’t tell how many there were exactly, just that there was too many for her, not in the state she was in. So far, she hadn't needed to kill anyone yet, though she wasn’t sure she could keep that up for much longer. Chara paused behind yet another crate. She began to feel a sense of dread. There was an open space about twenty feet wide between here and the nearest piece of cover. Worst part was, there was no way of knowing whether or not there were cultists further along the space, keeping watch in case she did try something. A multitude of possibilities ran through her head as she crouched there.
Then she head footsteps behind her. Two more AMs.
She quickly shifted over to the left. There was a small pause from the cultists. Then they resumed, slower than before.
“Shit….” Chara whispered softly.
They’d spotted her.
This was it.
She drew her knife as they got closer, gripping the hilt tightly. She closed her eyes, and thought of her family.
Caroline, Azriel, Flowey, Undyne, Alphys……
Frisk…….
I’m so, so sorry……
Forgive me…..
Further in the warehouse, there was a mechanical roar, swiftly followed by a high pitched scream of fear and pain. Both ended as suddenly as they began.
Chara snapped her head up and her eyes flew open. She strained her ears, trying to hear the cultists, not sure if they were still there. Not a second after a voice hesitantly whispered in the dark. “Was…… was that a…. chainsaw??”
There was another roar, longer this time. And closer. It was a chainsaw…. but it sounded deeper than any Chara heard before. More….. brutal.
There was another whisper, a different voice. “Should….. Should we go help?”
The cultist was answered by a flurry of gunfire, interspersed with the blood-hungry howl of the chainsaw and the screams of the dying.
Chara heard sprinting feet followed by two figures rushing past her crate and disappearing into the gloom. She stayed for a few moments, listening to the sounds of….. slaughter. Yes, it was a slaughter. The AM’s were getting their asses handed to them, judging by the noise. By whom or what……... Chara wanted to know.
Though she wasn’t sure she wanted to meet whomever it was, as a particularly painful sounding scream echoed around the warehouse.
After waiting for a few moments, she made her move, hustling as best she could over to a forklift, keeping a tight grip on the knife. Fortunately, it looked like all of the cultists were busy engaging the chainsaw enthusiast. How someone could wield such a cumbersome weapon against multiple opponents with guns was beyond Chara. The fact that they were somehow still alive was an incredible feat. With the amount of gunshots she heard, the attacker would’ve been turned into Swiss cheese…. less than that, even..
Chara peeped over the forklift’s side, looking past the decayed chair just in time to see a figure booking it for the door, cloak flowing behind them. Then another, then another, then a group of three. Soon, cultists were flooding past her, intent on escaping the killer lurking inside the building. The gunfire had died down, and even the chainsaw had fallen quiet. Yet the cultists seemed intent on getting out of dodge. There were a few voices calling out to stand firm, Chara identifying the voice of Magos being one of them. Despite many cultists heading for the hills, the firebrands managed to amass a little firing line on the other side of the open space. Chara couldn't say for sure, but she guessed there was at least twenty of them, thirty at most. Despite her earlier misgivings, she hoped that the attacker didn’t run into that mess.
Another cultist emerged from the abandoned crates, about ten feet in front of Chara. They paused to catch their breath. For some reason, they turned around and looked behind them.
It would be the last mistake they ever made.
A gauntlet shot out and grabbed the cultist by the throat. Chara’s eyes widened. Even from here, she could tell that gauntlet was far too big for its wearer to be human. Even as she pondered just what that meant, the cultist was lifted up with ease. The chainsaw once again roared into life, the hateful sound all the more terrifying with its proximity. As the weapon bit into the cultist and the sounds of tearing flesh and spilling blood filled her ears, Chara realized with a start that the weapon was being wielded one-handed. What the hell was this thing?
The band of AM’s weren’t oblivious to one of their own being butchered, and a few shots rang out, the shooters deciding that hitting their comrade would’ve been a mercy to them.
With final spray of blood, the cultist was torn in two and, with clanking steps, the killer emerged.
And the lights flickered on.
A few lights overloaded, the sudden activation proving too much for their time-worn parts. Most remained functional, bathing the warehouse with bright artificial light. Chara’s eyes shut automatically and she ducked down, letting her eyes adjust to the light. When she could she comfortably, she poked her head back up…..
And stared at the giant before her.
They were no less than seven and a half feet tall. They were humanoid, but their proportions were larger and bulkier than any human Chara ever saw. The giant was clad in a suit of black armour, trimmed in crimson, showing virtually no signs of any damage done by the cultists. The only signs that they were in combat at all was the blood splattered all over them. The suit had a large backpack, though what purpose it served wasn’t apparent. The giant’s features were hidden beneath a helmet with red lenses, with a crown of platinum laurel leaves engraved on it and what looked like an angular faceplate, though this was partially hidden by a raised gorget. The only sign of allegiance on the giant was a red Maltese cross, like one worn by the crusading knights of old, emblazoned on an oversized shoulder guard.
Something tingled at the back of Chara’s mind……. As if she had seen a cross like that somewhere before….
Looking down, Chara saw in the giant’s clenched right fist a weapon made of nightmare. It was a sword, a sword unlike anything she had seen, a brutal thing with teeth. The teeth gently spun as the weapon idled, all painted in blood. The……. chainsword’s most recent victim was still held in his left fist. Or, at least, the top half of the victim anyway. The rest of her lay on the floor in a pool of blood and entrails.
“Lay down your weapon!” a voice Chara recognized as the Magos shouted.
She glanced over to the firing line. Chara had almost forgotten they were even there. At a glance, her first estimate of thirty cultists looked to be correct. They were all clad in the cult cloaks, and armed with a motley collection of homemade rifles, shotguns, and pistols, a few armed with professionally made weapons. One of the cultists was an grizzled and bearded man towards the back of the group, whose eyes burned with a hate Chara hadn't seen since her deadly encounter with Amelia.
“I said drop it, traitor!” he screamed, confirming that he was indeed the Magos.
A few tense seconds passed before the giant dropped the torso of the cultist, letting their hand fall to their side.
Even from twenty feet away, Chara could see the Magos’ jaw clench, so palpable was his anger.
“The chainsaw, you fucking moron!! Drop it or die!” the Magos screamed again.
Chara glanced back towards the knight. They only stared at the cultists, then gave an almost imperceptible shake of their head.
Then they exploded into motion.
A fusillade erupted from the cultists, though it seemed they were as shocked as Chara was, as many of the shots went wide off the mark, only a few ricocheting off the knight’s armour. They were fast. Inhumanly fast. Chara felt her mouth open as they ran. While some cultists kept on shooting, others stared in horror at the mountain of metal charging at them, while others just turned tail and bolted. A little more than five feet away, the chainsword screamed back into life as the knight lowered their shoulder and rammed into the cultists with a sickening crunch.
Then the slaughter recommenced.
Chara couldn't tear her eyes away. The knight tore through the AMs like a greatsword through Jell-o. Limbs were shorn off, heads decapitated, and bodies torn in two. At one moment, Chara saw a cultist raise his rifle to block the knight's sword, only to have the blade rip right through it in a shower of sparks before it’s wielder stabbed the unfortunate bastard in the heart. The roaring blade wasn’t the knight’s only weapon, their fist and feet doing their fair share of killing, caving in chests and shattering skulls. The knight continued to display their awesome speed, seemingly moving from victim to victim without pause, none of the blows thrown by the cultists landing anywhere near them. A few more cultists decided that they would rather live to fight another day and fled, leaving the rest to their fate.
In little over a minute, the knight was left standing in a gently steaming pile of blood and corpses.
A few feet away, crawling towards Chara’s side of the open space, was the Magos, who somehow survived the melee. He was coated in his fellow’s blood, and seemed to have an injured leg. Whether this was by design or chance, Chara couldn’t tell.
The knight began to stride over to the Magos, their legs giving off a mechanical hum with each step, causing the Magos to look at them.
“Why?” the Magos gasped, pain and anger evident in his voice. “Why betray your own kind?”
The knight paused, staring down at the cultist as if in thought. Then…. they spoke.
“Twenty-two.”
Chara blinked. Though the knight’s voice was disrupted by the radio they used to speak through, their voice sounded masculine and…… surprisingly young. Not that much older than Frisk, if Chara was any judge.
The anger, though….. The anger was all too easy to discern.
The Magus seemed taken aback by the answer. “W-what?”
“Twenty-two,” the knight growled again. “You murdered twenty-two children.”
“They deserved it!” the Magos shouted, seeming to find his nerve. Chara felt a flare of anger in her soul, remembering the orphanage. “They housed the adopted bastards of the people who wanted our kind destroyed! If it wasn’t-”
“They were CHILDREN!!” the knight bellowed, causing Chara to wince. “They had no inkling of what was going on! How did their deaths benefit mankind?!” The Magos looked like he was going to offer some bullshit answer, before he let out an ugly laugh. “That doesn’t matter,” he sneered. “What matters is that you work with that goody-two shoed whore,” - the comment that nearly made Chara explode with rage- “so you won’t kill an unarmed prisoner like me.” Chara could imagine the bastard’s cocky grin.
There was a long pause, before the knight began to laugh.
I do not laugh because I find what he said to be humorous.
I laugh at his ignorance.
He has no idea what I am, what I represent. His ignorance will him cost his life.
“No Mercy,” I say in response, resuming to stride over to the cultist. The whine of my armor's servos are loud in the stillness, the thud of my footfalls echoing through this open space. He blinks in surprise, so certain that I did follow Frisk’s moral code. “W-what?” he stammers, beginning to show signs of panic.
“No Mercy,” I say again with relish, getting closer. The real traitor- the heretic, some would say- tried to crawl away, to escape his impending doom. It makes me want to laugh again. “No Remorse.”
I stop beside the Anti Monster and flip him onto his back with my boot. He stares up at me, pleading with his eyes. I lift my foot and gently rest it on his face. His hands scrabble against my boot, desperate to live just for a few seconds longer.
To my shame, a part of me enjoys that.
“No Fear.”
I step down.
It took no effort at all. One second, the knight’s boot was resting on the Magos’ face, then….. It rested in a slowly expanding pool of blood and brain matter.
Chara ducked down behind the forklift, wondering what she was going to do. Obviously, the knight was no friend of the cult, but the way he had so casually murdered the Magos made her uneasy. Perhaps she could get away, hide for a little while longer…..
“There’s no need to hide, Sergeant.”
Chara froze. How in the hell did….?? Letting out a sigh, she stood up, wincing at the ache in her leg. She limped around the forklift to meet her…. rescuer, she supposed.
He wasn't being idle she saw, making his way towards her with a leisurely walk. Despite the fact he had sheathed his blade at his hip, Chara still felt a sense of trepidation as the ground trembled softly at his approach. While he- she somehow felt that the knight went by he- made his way towards her, she studied him more, previously unable to get a good look from the front. A red eagle spread its wings across his breastplate, while a twin headed golden one did the same on his left knee. On his left arm, just above the wrist, was attached a large caliber gun. His left shoulder guard also bore a red cross, and two words were engraved on the gorget in a golden, flowing script.
Vae Victus.
She had no idea what the words meant meant, but she felt an involuntary shudder as she read them.
The knight drew up before her, not too close as to make Chara crane her head upward and make it uncomfortable. She glanced back to the cross, when it finally hit her.
She had seen a cross like that before. A few weeks after the orphanage….. The charnel house….
All the pieces fell into place as she stared into the knight’s faceplate.
“St. Germaine’s….” she breathed. “That was you!”
“Aye,” said the knight, “That was me.”
Her face was reflected in the red lenses. “What are you?”
She felt a chill at his answer.
“An Angel of Death.”
A couple notes:
Yes, I do know that there was no “St. Germaine’s.” That is entirely of my own making.
Edited: For those of you who know what the knight is: he’s a Primaris :3
Welp, that’s it for me, for now. If y’all like it, I’ll go ahead and write a sequel. Until next time.
