Chur-Chunk
The oozing, Amber-like shield that had cascaded over the Nexus mainframe had begun to drip away, the wish-making device coming back into play. The wishes that it had yet to complete were…
0051.
The empty void that held the keys began to pulsate, as the steaming machine had begun to make labored sounds.
It started off recreating wishes. Manifesting a large mountain of candy, creating a metal-covered sprawling ground, amongst many flashes of colors of attempted wishes that appeared to fizzle out or explode violently elsewhere. The ground cracked and shook around the continent, severing a divide right through Gareeg Monastery right through Urban District.
The Keys had begun to shine… glowing with an unusual vibrancy. Almost as if in-sync, the Mainframe of the Nexus rattled before-
BOOM!
It released a powerful shockwave. The shockwave was made of some kind of net… like it came from a digital wireframe.
The wave rippled across the land, removing the textures of everything it came across before erasing them entirely. It was destroying this world! ...Or was it? As the Nexus raised into the air, it began to surround itself with a projection that mimicked the growing texture-less wasteland below. As the ground below lost color, it seemed to gain it… making something new…
——————————
A golden, blinding light sat before him, bursting through the sky like a dying star. It sat over the remnants of the Covenant’s once-holy city, shimmering, rays of light bursting from it. For a moment, it shone even brighter, too bright for eyes to perceive, and a familiar vessel burst forth from it, smoldering through the air as it went, leaving a trail of black smoke behind it.
Atriox held up an arm toward the Brute beside him, stopping Decimus from moving any further. “But- Atriox, that’s my ship,” Decimus rumbled, his eyes wide as he looked expectantly at the individual holding him back. Decimus might have been much older, and Atriox might have been half a foot shorter, but his authority was absolute, and nobody questioned it–for good reason.
The leader of the Banished did not speak as the vessel remained elevated for a good two or so minutes, finally crashing nearer to them on the surface of the Ark, a cloud of dust erupting around it. Many seconds later, the resounding boom followed. Atriox stared at it for a moment, eyes narrowed. Finally, he turned toward Decimus.
“Gather your men,” he ordered, “investigate the wreckage, discover the truth. Do not return until you have everything.”
Decimus bowed his head, wrinkling his nose. “We should never have left my ship behind,” he muttered, before turning away and stomping off as Atriox returned his attention to the distant crash site.
Nearly an hour passed before Decimus marched toward the wreckage, a swarm of Sentinels overhead already doing their own investigating. “Dem Sentinels be plunderin ours loot!” a nearby Grunt barked, pointing overhead.
“Ignore them,” Decimus snarled back in response. “They will not bother us.”
This ship, his ship, had seen battle. Its hull was scarred, melted holes blasted about it, one of which was large enough for them to make their way into. Charred Banished bodies were found inside, mostly consisting of Grunts and Jackals, a few Brutes and Elites among them.
“Was it Her?” a Brute to the left of Decimus asked, and the older of the two snorted.
“If it is, we will crush Her.”
They moved deeper inside, finding strange technology they hadn’t seen before here, or there, before they finally reached the bridge.
Decimus huffed as he peeled open the broken door with ease, his powerful strength cleaving clean through the steel alloy with ease. Tossing it aside, he peered within to find his war table was flickering, casting a strobing crimson light over the room- and revealing an armored Brute leaning against it, lying on his side.
“Decimus, that’s…” one Brute commented, looking toward their commander as Decimus bared his fangs, a rumble resonating from his throat. Slowly, he stomped toward the fallen Brute and dropped to a knee, grasping the corpse by its shoulder and lifting it roughly up, glaring into its face.
The similarities were uncanny… terrifyingly so.
Suddenly, the copy opened his eyes with a cough, spitting magenta specks of blood into Decimus’ face, who growled at this in annoyance. “Name yourself,” he barked, to which his copy let out a couple more coughs.
“What is… how…” he gazed back at Decimus in confusion, before his eyes rolled back and he fell still once more. Decimus rose to his feet, ignoring the blood staining his face as he glanced about.
“Salvage whatever we can,” he ordered. “Atriox wants everything.”
——————————
The vessel did belong to Decimus, just not the one Atriox knew. No, this one hailed from a different timeline. A different universe. He had been yanked out of his with little to no resources or troops, practically with only a fraction of his power, and he had waged war on a strange land filled with strange beings- including the fabled Demon.
Yet as it turned out, the Master Chief was not the only worry of this Decimus. He had stupidly betrayed his only ally, a powerful one at that, and they proceeded to wage war. They fought for control of what Decimus believed to be a gift from the Forerunner. A powerful artifact, one that had brought the miniscule portion of the Banished there, the same that sent them away as they were reaching the height of their conflict against a “Robotnik”.
Atriox mulled over the data gathered. Samples of the world, tales collected, technology shared and discovered. Here he was, attempting to gain access to a Halo ring, when in fact, it was nothing compared to this artifact. This… Nexus.
That power is what he needed to see his goals become realized.
In the time that Atriox had uncovered everything from this other universe, a human vessel had appeared, armed to the teeth and with Spartans to boot. A thorn in his side, and usually he’d be willing to toy with them- but his goals were beyond this reality now. He had to find this Nexus, he had to use it.
The humans put up a valiant effort, but it was all for naught. Atriox had met their team of Spartans alone- and crushed all of them. He had given their armor to his lieutenants, and used their severed hands to utilize the Forerunner technology. Their ship was obliterated in as little as a day, and the remnants of their crew had been mopped up despite putting up a brave and valiant effort. Commendable enough to impress Atriox, so he allowed the survivors a rank among the Banished. Most had refused. Most had continued their hopeless fight.
Most were dead.
With that annoyance out of the way, another emerged. The Flood was unleashed, a threat terrifying enough that Atriox personally saw to it that the Flood were contained once more. He was fully prepared to execute Pavium and Voridus, those under his command who had released the Flood in the first place- but he controlled himself. They had fought valiantly to fix their error. They would not be rewarded, but they would live.
Using the technology discovered by the alternate Decimus, Atriox began to create his own designs. With his agenda altered, he left behind the Ark. It was now useless to him. A mere toy for false Gods far beneath him.
Returning to his vast army, Atriox resumed control over it. With his new technology, he tested it against Cortana’s Guardians.
Each.
One.
Fell.
Atriox watched in satisfaction as the AI that had taken over HIS galaxy now ran. She ran to a Halo, using it to threaten Atriox. A sad attempt to get him to surrender.
He destroyed it, and she fell as it was reduced to nothing but dust and echoes.
Only one test remained; the Demon. With the Swords of Sangheilios quelled, Atriox ended his mission in his universe by destroying what remained of the UNSC. The Infinity fell in minutes, and the Master Chief?
Dead.
Why, one might wonder, would Atriox go through all of this trouble when he would leave this universe behind in the dust? It was simple. He needed no distractions as he sought a way to open that same portal that had spit out the alternate Decimus. To open it and bring forth everything at his disposal.
The Banished would not rule one universe, but them all.
And who could stop him?
——————————
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 9 Minutes.”
Flashes of fire and death permeated behind his eyelids, scorched painfully into his skull.
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 8 Minutes.”
The screams of those on-board as a fury of flames tore open the hull of their ship. Their escape pod. They’d been powerless…
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 7 Minutes.”
Where was… was he…
The last thing he could remember before everything faded was the feeling of the air being forcefully sucked right out of his lungs. He’d died. He HAD died… right? Yet, he was hearing this voice…
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 6 Minutes.”
He wasn’t dead… no, somehow he’d survived… that was the only explanation. That, or the afterlife was more of the same bullshit. Eyelids heavy, almost as heavy as the armor weighing him down, Lance Corporal Hayden Rodes opened his eyes to see the world around him.
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 5 Minutes.”
His eyes had opened to stare into another pair of eyes. Dead eyes, the eyes of Sergeant Miles Elroy, a friend of Hayden’s. Breath hitching in his throat, Hayden quickly pushed himself up–and immediately regretted this, as a roaring pain shot up his left arm. Broken. Damn, would it have been too much to ask for a safe crash landing?
That’s what this was, after all. A few smoldering flames lingered about as Hayden looked about, breathing heavy, taking in his surroundings. Other marines lie scattered about, dead as Elroy was, but the front half of their escape vessel sat ahead of them a ways, a trail of charred and twisted metal making a path. How the hell had HE survived…?
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 4 Minutes.”
The sparking console of their escape vessel was flashing the red warning lights as the automated voice spoke from it, though the voice sounded strained, distant, glitched. Fuck… the Banished were coming, that’s all it could mean.
Hayden used his right arm to try and slowly push himself to his feet, but his heavy armor was making that a little difficult. He wasn’t ready for all that added weight right now. How long had he been out? He felt parched…
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 3 Minutes.”
They were nearing. He needed to act fast. The Banished were known as smugglers and scavengers. They were vultures, descending on a fresh kill. He’d heard the horror stories. That thought made Hayden’s eyes once again land on the dead, blankly staring ones of Elroy. If Brutes and Jackals were among the Banished scouting party headed his way, there was a 99% chance those bastards would eat the remains of the marines. That slim 1% chance was in the event they’d just eaten and weren’t too hungry. It made him sick to his stomach just thinking of it.
Wincing, Hayden managed to climb to his feet.
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 2 Minutes.”
He thought he could already hear the war horn of the Banished Phantom, announcing their triumphant arrival to the crash site. He’d be cutting it close… damn it, he wasn’t about to die now! Not when he’d been given this second chance!
Making to limp away, Hayden now took in his surroundings outside of the initial crash site. It appeared that the escape pod had crashed through a hole in the ceiling (probably why it had torn apart as it had, and maybe explaining why Hayden himself lived. Diverted inertia, the bodies of his comrades cushioning his fall… but that didn’t explain how the vacuum of space hadn’t killed him). With shuddering breaths, Hayden walked past the console, gazing about at the cavern they’d fallen into. Magnificent crystals shot up from the ground, spoked from the walls, and hung from the ceiling in an awesome fashion. He’d never seen crystals like these before, but he also assumed they were Forerunner-made. After all, the last thing he remembered was the escape pod descending upon Zeta Halo. The Infinity was under siege, and falling fast. Master Chief had been declared KIA. Hope was lost…
Yet Hayden still found it in him to push himself beyond the crash site. Perhaps it was the fear of being eaten alive by Brutes. Perhaps it was the fear of just being found. It wasn’t as though he wanted to die. This wasn’t cowardice, it was self-preservation. He’d find a way to avenge Elroy, to avenge his team, to avenge the Infinity… to avenge the Chief.
How the hell could he do that?
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 1 Minute.”
Jesus they were closing in on him…
Alongside his broken arm, Hayden could count a few shattered ribs, possibly a fracture in his thigh, and he was certain he’d broken his right pinky. It was definitely slowing him down, and if he could find a feasible way to medicate himself, he’d be avenging nobody. Not like this.
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 30 Seconds.”
This time, he definitely heard the war horn. There was this old 21st century movie called “War of the Worlds”, itself a remake of something from the 20th century. It had again been remade in the late 22nd century, but around that time was when the entertainment industry had fallen to give rise to colonial expansion across the galaxy with the invention of slipspace engines. People spent less time focusing on screens and more time focusing on the sky. Hayden knew about War of the Worlds thanks to his father, who had been a fan of old human relics of the past, mostly in 21st century movies. When Hayden had been small, he’d first seen War of the Worlds. At the time, it looked so real for such an old film, but the worst part were the horns of the tripod alien vessels. The way they boomed and thundered out their presence without fear, inducing panic among those that knew they would be killed should they not hide.
That’s exactly how the Banished war horn made Hayden feel. He was well aware that not escaping them would result in his death, no matter if he pleaded or begged them to spare him. Especially not if they were hungry. Nobody could reason with a hungry Brute.
“ETA in 10.”
Hayden had limped his way around some of the crystals, each individual one twice his own size. They were impressive, and glimmered with green light. He’d have taken more time to stare in awe at them if it wasn’t for his approaching imminent death.
The light casting down from the hole in the ceiling faded, something covering it. Hayden peeked out from around the crystal to watch as a figure from above moved about, before suddenly leaping down the hole. It was a good 20 to 25 foot drop, but the Brute who descended had no fear as he landed on the stone with a snort, shouting a bark up through the hole. Following him were two other Brutes, who did much the same. In truth, he’d rarely actually seen many aliens up close. The Elites he had, as the Swords of Sangheilios had their truce with the UNSC, but he’d never fought too many aliens. A few Grunts and a Jackal aboard the Infinity before they’d retreated as Brutes broke the frontline. Their thick fur and armor seemed to take most of the ballistic weapons headed their way, bullets just plunging almost harmlessly into the beasts. It was terrifying to watch as they barged in, throwing Warthogs like play-things, snapping marines like twigs…
Now here they were again. Hayden had no weapons, limited hiding places, and too many injuries to even hope of taking out at least one of the Brutes when they found him. If he hadn’t felt hopeless before, he certainly experienced it now.
This had to be the end…
One of the Brutes laughed, the leader of the small pack from the looks of him. His helmet signified this, as it splayed up like a shield above his head, and in his arms? A UNSC weapon, not a Banished one. An MLRS-2 Hydra. Hayden felt his blood boil at the sight, his skin becoming hot to the touch. It felt so disrespectful to see this, so…
No.
He had to keep himself in check. Sliding himself as slowly as he could away, Hayden turned his gaze to look down the path of crystals he’d moved toward. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, realizing he’d chosen a dead-end. There was nowhere to run from here. If those Brutes happened to explore this crystal deposit… he was finished.
The Brutes beyond laughed some more, before they began to speak, their words coming out in a harsh alien tongue. Hayden had a universal translator plugged into the back of his neck, but it seemed that it had been destroyed in the crash. He couldn’t understand his opponents.
The waiting seemed to take forever, and Hayden could swear he heard the sounds of Brutes sloppily snacking. He almost lost his lunch, but was aware that it could alert the aliens. It took a lot of willpower to hold it in, even as bile crept up his throat, making it sting. Then, the Brutes began to speak again, laughing at each other, barking out their words, and… it sounded as though they were getting closer…
Fuck… no, no, why were they getting closer? There was nothing for them here…
Hayden found himself backed against the wall of crystals, trying his best to flatten himself to it, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t be seen.
He was seen.
One of the Brutes, one without a helmet, his jowls coated in red blood, stopped as he was halfway through walking across the opening of this dead-end, before he turned his head. The beast locked eyes with Hayden, before it laughed, raising a Banished weapon toward him, though it didn’t yet open fire. The Brute shouted out something to the others, his voice humored, probably something about “found more food”, or something just as equally disgusting.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even move. He could only watch as the Brute started to move closer…
Before a sudden rumble shook the entire cavern, a few crystals above wavering dangerously, though they did not break. This distracted the Brute, who paused,a frown besetting his face as he barked something back to the others. He got no response.
Following this, an explosion could be heard. Distant and muffled. Something was going on outside. A firefight? Internal fighting, maybe the UNSC remnants? Or worse… one of Cortana’s Guardians had arrived…
That thought made Hayden shudder as the Brute turned around, clearly deeming the marine as a non-threat. He wasn’t sure what pushed him to do it, but he did it. He actually fucking did it. One second, he was pressed fearfully against the wall, seconds away from pissing himself, and the next he was on the Brutes back, trying to scratch and tear at his throat from behind.
Despite the sudden spur of motivation, it didn’t account for much. The Brutes massive arms grasped the human easily, and flung him away. Hayden flew threw the air before crashing upside-down against a wall of crystals, then he slumped to the ground, disoriented. He could hear the Brute roar in anger, stomping toward him–before a burst of sound echoed through the tunnel, and a heavy, dull thud announced that the Brute had fallen into a heap of its own gore.
Shaking his head, Hayden slowly pushed himself into a more comfortable position that was less upside-down, and focused on the dead Brute. His eyes turned to look at his savior. A green-armored hand reached out to him.
“Chief,” Hayden gasped, feeling tears sting his eyes as he reached out his good arm–then paused. This armored soldier wasn’t the Master Chief, and it didn’t look like any of the Spartan-IV’s, nor a member of Blue Team. In fact, its muscular arms were exposed between its shoulders and its gauntlets. It didn’t speak a word as it saw his hesitation, then retracted its hand to rest it on the barrel of the shotgun it carried.
“Don’t mind him, he doesn’t talk much,” another voice spoke in English from around the corner. Hayden looked away from the armored soldier to see a man approaching them. At his side were two individuals. One was a thin, young man, his dark hair dyed green, his face appearing as a permanent scowl. The other was what looked like a blue-skinned alien, long red hair pulled back into a ponytail, an eyepatch covering her eye. Or at least, he assumed it was female.
“What’s your name?” the man asked. He wore a black trenchcoat over all-black clothing, his unshaven face partly concealing a grizzled and weathered expression. Hayden got the impression that this man had seen it all, and was also under the impression that these people were allies.
“Lance…” Hayden breathed, though he found it was a bit of a struggle. That hit he’d taken earlier had cracked a few more ribs, probably. Damn, he was gonna need surgery or something to fix all this. “Lance Corporal Hayden Rodes, s-sir…” he finally managed out.
The man gave a nod at this, eyeing the wounds of the Marine. “Undyne?” he asked, glancing toward the blue woman, who gave a shrug in response before she approached Hayden. He watched as she dropped to a knee, and placed a glowing green hand over his broken leg. A sensation of warmth came over him.
“W-what are-”
“Don’t worry, she’s healing you. It’s a type of magic from her world,” the black-clothed man stated, his eyes squinting at Hayden, seemingly assessing him.
Magic? What the hell? Magic was just science nobody understood yet, so… perhaps this alien woman had some kind of biological feature that let her accelerate natural growth of cells, leading to quick healing and… this was making his brain hurt.
“The one who saved you is known as Doom Slayer,” the man continued, gesturing toward the armored man. “The one who destroyed that Banished ship is Nanashi,” he gestured to the silent man beside him. Nanashi gave a slight nod, but that was it. “My name is Chris Redfield. Commanding Officer of Hound Wolf Squad, BSAA, but… well, there’s a lot to catch you up on.”
There was a sudden painful snap, making Hayden cringe, gritting his teeth, before the soothe of warmth returned. His leg had been snapped back into place by this Undyne’s “magic”. “Wow…” Hayden grunted as the woman moved her arm up to his stomach, and the warmth settled over his broken ribs.
“We don’t have much time,” Chris Redfield stated, glancing back. “The Banished don’t usually come out this far, yet, but they’ve been building. Something big, and they’ve got help from God-knows-what. You know more about them than we do,” he nodded at Hayden, who frowned.
“Why would I-”
“Your weapons,” Chris gestured toward the crash site. “The Banished use those, too. I’d imagine that means you’re from the same universe.”
Same universe? What the hell was this guy on? He seemed to notice the confusion and doubt on Hayden’s face, as Chris simply nodded his head, a small smirk dancing on his stoic face.
“Like I said; there’s a lot to catch you up on.”
The oozing, Amber-like shield that had cascaded over the Nexus mainframe had begun to drip away, the wish-making device coming back into play. The wishes that it had yet to complete were…
0051.
The empty void that held the keys began to pulsate, as the steaming machine had begun to make labored sounds.
It started off recreating wishes. Manifesting a large mountain of candy, creating a metal-covered sprawling ground, amongst many flashes of colors of attempted wishes that appeared to fizzle out or explode violently elsewhere. The ground cracked and shook around the continent, severing a divide right through Gareeg Monastery right through Urban District.
The Keys had begun to shine… glowing with an unusual vibrancy. Almost as if in-sync, the Mainframe of the Nexus rattled before-
BOOM!
It released a powerful shockwave. The shockwave was made of some kind of net… like it came from a digital wireframe.
The wave rippled across the land, removing the textures of everything it came across before erasing them entirely. It was destroying this world! ...Or was it? As the Nexus raised into the air, it began to surround itself with a projection that mimicked the growing texture-less wasteland below. As the ground below lost color, it seemed to gain it… making something new…
——————————
A golden, blinding light sat before him, bursting through the sky like a dying star. It sat over the remnants of the Covenant’s once-holy city, shimmering, rays of light bursting from it. For a moment, it shone even brighter, too bright for eyes to perceive, and a familiar vessel burst forth from it, smoldering through the air as it went, leaving a trail of black smoke behind it.
Atriox held up an arm toward the Brute beside him, stopping Decimus from moving any further. “But- Atriox, that’s my ship,” Decimus rumbled, his eyes wide as he looked expectantly at the individual holding him back. Decimus might have been much older, and Atriox might have been half a foot shorter, but his authority was absolute, and nobody questioned it–for good reason.
The leader of the Banished did not speak as the vessel remained elevated for a good two or so minutes, finally crashing nearer to them on the surface of the Ark, a cloud of dust erupting around it. Many seconds later, the resounding boom followed. Atriox stared at it for a moment, eyes narrowed. Finally, he turned toward Decimus.
“Gather your men,” he ordered, “investigate the wreckage, discover the truth. Do not return until you have everything.”
Decimus bowed his head, wrinkling his nose. “We should never have left my ship behind,” he muttered, before turning away and stomping off as Atriox returned his attention to the distant crash site.
Nearly an hour passed before Decimus marched toward the wreckage, a swarm of Sentinels overhead already doing their own investigating. “Dem Sentinels be plunderin ours loot!” a nearby Grunt barked, pointing overhead.
“Ignore them,” Decimus snarled back in response. “They will not bother us.”
This ship, his ship, had seen battle. Its hull was scarred, melted holes blasted about it, one of which was large enough for them to make their way into. Charred Banished bodies were found inside, mostly consisting of Grunts and Jackals, a few Brutes and Elites among them.
“Was it Her?” a Brute to the left of Decimus asked, and the older of the two snorted.
“If it is, we will crush Her.”
They moved deeper inside, finding strange technology they hadn’t seen before here, or there, before they finally reached the bridge.
Decimus huffed as he peeled open the broken door with ease, his powerful strength cleaving clean through the steel alloy with ease. Tossing it aside, he peered within to find his war table was flickering, casting a strobing crimson light over the room- and revealing an armored Brute leaning against it, lying on his side.
“Decimus, that’s…” one Brute commented, looking toward their commander as Decimus bared his fangs, a rumble resonating from his throat. Slowly, he stomped toward the fallen Brute and dropped to a knee, grasping the corpse by its shoulder and lifting it roughly up, glaring into its face.
The similarities were uncanny… terrifyingly so.
Suddenly, the copy opened his eyes with a cough, spitting magenta specks of blood into Decimus’ face, who growled at this in annoyance. “Name yourself,” he barked, to which his copy let out a couple more coughs.
“What is… how…” he gazed back at Decimus in confusion, before his eyes rolled back and he fell still once more. Decimus rose to his feet, ignoring the blood staining his face as he glanced about.
“Salvage whatever we can,” he ordered. “Atriox wants everything.”
——————————
The vessel did belong to Decimus, just not the one Atriox knew. No, this one hailed from a different timeline. A different universe. He had been yanked out of his with little to no resources or troops, practically with only a fraction of his power, and he had waged war on a strange land filled with strange beings- including the fabled Demon.
Yet as it turned out, the Master Chief was not the only worry of this Decimus. He had stupidly betrayed his only ally, a powerful one at that, and they proceeded to wage war. They fought for control of what Decimus believed to be a gift from the Forerunner. A powerful artifact, one that had brought the miniscule portion of the Banished there, the same that sent them away as they were reaching the height of their conflict against a “Robotnik”.
Atriox mulled over the data gathered. Samples of the world, tales collected, technology shared and discovered. Here he was, attempting to gain access to a Halo ring, when in fact, it was nothing compared to this artifact. This… Nexus.
That power is what he needed to see his goals become realized.
In the time that Atriox had uncovered everything from this other universe, a human vessel had appeared, armed to the teeth and with Spartans to boot. A thorn in his side, and usually he’d be willing to toy with them- but his goals were beyond this reality now. He had to find this Nexus, he had to use it.
The humans put up a valiant effort, but it was all for naught. Atriox had met their team of Spartans alone- and crushed all of them. He had given their armor to his lieutenants, and used their severed hands to utilize the Forerunner technology. Their ship was obliterated in as little as a day, and the remnants of their crew had been mopped up despite putting up a brave and valiant effort. Commendable enough to impress Atriox, so he allowed the survivors a rank among the Banished. Most had refused. Most had continued their hopeless fight.
Most were dead.
With that annoyance out of the way, another emerged. The Flood was unleashed, a threat terrifying enough that Atriox personally saw to it that the Flood were contained once more. He was fully prepared to execute Pavium and Voridus, those under his command who had released the Flood in the first place- but he controlled himself. They had fought valiantly to fix their error. They would not be rewarded, but they would live.
Using the technology discovered by the alternate Decimus, Atriox began to create his own designs. With his agenda altered, he left behind the Ark. It was now useless to him. A mere toy for false Gods far beneath him.
Returning to his vast army, Atriox resumed control over it. With his new technology, he tested it against Cortana’s Guardians.
Each.
One.
Fell.
Atriox watched in satisfaction as the AI that had taken over HIS galaxy now ran. She ran to a Halo, using it to threaten Atriox. A sad attempt to get him to surrender.
He destroyed it, and she fell as it was reduced to nothing but dust and echoes.
Only one test remained; the Demon. With the Swords of Sangheilios quelled, Atriox ended his mission in his universe by destroying what remained of the UNSC. The Infinity fell in minutes, and the Master Chief?
Dead.
Why, one might wonder, would Atriox go through all of this trouble when he would leave this universe behind in the dust? It was simple. He needed no distractions as he sought a way to open that same portal that had spit out the alternate Decimus. To open it and bring forth everything at his disposal.
The Banished would not rule one universe, but them all.
And who could stop him?
——————————
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 9 Minutes.”
Flashes of fire and death permeated behind his eyelids, scorched painfully into his skull.
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 8 Minutes.”
The screams of those on-board as a fury of flames tore open the hull of their ship. Their escape pod. They’d been powerless…
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 7 Minutes.”
Where was… was he…
The last thing he could remember before everything faded was the feeling of the air being forcefully sucked right out of his lungs. He’d died. He HAD died… right? Yet, he was hearing this voice…
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 6 Minutes.”
He wasn’t dead… no, somehow he’d survived… that was the only explanation. That, or the afterlife was more of the same bullshit. Eyelids heavy, almost as heavy as the armor weighing him down, Lance Corporal Hayden Rodes opened his eyes to see the world around him.
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 5 Minutes.”
His eyes had opened to stare into another pair of eyes. Dead eyes, the eyes of Sergeant Miles Elroy, a friend of Hayden’s. Breath hitching in his throat, Hayden quickly pushed himself up–and immediately regretted this, as a roaring pain shot up his left arm. Broken. Damn, would it have been too much to ask for a safe crash landing?
That’s what this was, after all. A few smoldering flames lingered about as Hayden looked about, breathing heavy, taking in his surroundings. Other marines lie scattered about, dead as Elroy was, but the front half of their escape vessel sat ahead of them a ways, a trail of charred and twisted metal making a path. How the hell had HE survived…?
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 4 Minutes.”
The sparking console of their escape vessel was flashing the red warning lights as the automated voice spoke from it, though the voice sounded strained, distant, glitched. Fuck… the Banished were coming, that’s all it could mean.
Hayden used his right arm to try and slowly push himself to his feet, but his heavy armor was making that a little difficult. He wasn’t ready for all that added weight right now. How long had he been out? He felt parched…
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 3 Minutes.”
They were nearing. He needed to act fast. The Banished were known as smugglers and scavengers. They were vultures, descending on a fresh kill. He’d heard the horror stories. That thought made Hayden’s eyes once again land on the dead, blankly staring ones of Elroy. If Brutes and Jackals were among the Banished scouting party headed his way, there was a 99% chance those bastards would eat the remains of the marines. That slim 1% chance was in the event they’d just eaten and weren’t too hungry. It made him sick to his stomach just thinking of it.
Wincing, Hayden managed to climb to his feet.
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 2 Minutes.”
He thought he could already hear the war horn of the Banished Phantom, announcing their triumphant arrival to the crash site. He’d be cutting it close… damn it, he wasn’t about to die now! Not when he’d been given this second chance!
Making to limp away, Hayden now took in his surroundings outside of the initial crash site. It appeared that the escape pod had crashed through a hole in the ceiling (probably why it had torn apart as it had, and maybe explaining why Hayden himself lived. Diverted inertia, the bodies of his comrades cushioning his fall… but that didn’t explain how the vacuum of space hadn’t killed him). With shuddering breaths, Hayden walked past the console, gazing about at the cavern they’d fallen into. Magnificent crystals shot up from the ground, spoked from the walls, and hung from the ceiling in an awesome fashion. He’d never seen crystals like these before, but he also assumed they were Forerunner-made. After all, the last thing he remembered was the escape pod descending upon Zeta Halo. The Infinity was under siege, and falling fast. Master Chief had been declared KIA. Hope was lost…
Yet Hayden still found it in him to push himself beyond the crash site. Perhaps it was the fear of being eaten alive by Brutes. Perhaps it was the fear of just being found. It wasn’t as though he wanted to die. This wasn’t cowardice, it was self-preservation. He’d find a way to avenge Elroy, to avenge his team, to avenge the Infinity… to avenge the Chief.
How the hell could he do that?
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 1 Minute.”
Jesus they were closing in on him…
Alongside his broken arm, Hayden could count a few shattered ribs, possibly a fracture in his thigh, and he was certain he’d broken his right pinky. It was definitely slowing him down, and if he could find a feasible way to medicate himself, he’d be avenging nobody. Not like this.
“Warning: Hostile Tags Detected. ETA 30 Seconds.”
This time, he definitely heard the war horn. There was this old 21st century movie called “War of the Worlds”, itself a remake of something from the 20th century. It had again been remade in the late 22nd century, but around that time was when the entertainment industry had fallen to give rise to colonial expansion across the galaxy with the invention of slipspace engines. People spent less time focusing on screens and more time focusing on the sky. Hayden knew about War of the Worlds thanks to his father, who had been a fan of old human relics of the past, mostly in 21st century movies. When Hayden had been small, he’d first seen War of the Worlds. At the time, it looked so real for such an old film, but the worst part were the horns of the tripod alien vessels. The way they boomed and thundered out their presence without fear, inducing panic among those that knew they would be killed should they not hide.
That’s exactly how the Banished war horn made Hayden feel. He was well aware that not escaping them would result in his death, no matter if he pleaded or begged them to spare him. Especially not if they were hungry. Nobody could reason with a hungry Brute.
“ETA in 10.”
Hayden had limped his way around some of the crystals, each individual one twice his own size. They were impressive, and glimmered with green light. He’d have taken more time to stare in awe at them if it wasn’t for his approaching imminent death.
The light casting down from the hole in the ceiling faded, something covering it. Hayden peeked out from around the crystal to watch as a figure from above moved about, before suddenly leaping down the hole. It was a good 20 to 25 foot drop, but the Brute who descended had no fear as he landed on the stone with a snort, shouting a bark up through the hole. Following him were two other Brutes, who did much the same. In truth, he’d rarely actually seen many aliens up close. The Elites he had, as the Swords of Sangheilios had their truce with the UNSC, but he’d never fought too many aliens. A few Grunts and a Jackal aboard the Infinity before they’d retreated as Brutes broke the frontline. Their thick fur and armor seemed to take most of the ballistic weapons headed their way, bullets just plunging almost harmlessly into the beasts. It was terrifying to watch as they barged in, throwing Warthogs like play-things, snapping marines like twigs…
Now here they were again. Hayden had no weapons, limited hiding places, and too many injuries to even hope of taking out at least one of the Brutes when they found him. If he hadn’t felt hopeless before, he certainly experienced it now.
This had to be the end…
One of the Brutes laughed, the leader of the small pack from the looks of him. His helmet signified this, as it splayed up like a shield above his head, and in his arms? A UNSC weapon, not a Banished one. An MLRS-2 Hydra. Hayden felt his blood boil at the sight, his skin becoming hot to the touch. It felt so disrespectful to see this, so…
No.
He had to keep himself in check. Sliding himself as slowly as he could away, Hayden turned his gaze to look down the path of crystals he’d moved toward. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, realizing he’d chosen a dead-end. There was nowhere to run from here. If those Brutes happened to explore this crystal deposit… he was finished.
The Brutes beyond laughed some more, before they began to speak, their words coming out in a harsh alien tongue. Hayden had a universal translator plugged into the back of his neck, but it seemed that it had been destroyed in the crash. He couldn’t understand his opponents.
The waiting seemed to take forever, and Hayden could swear he heard the sounds of Brutes sloppily snacking. He almost lost his lunch, but was aware that it could alert the aliens. It took a lot of willpower to hold it in, even as bile crept up his throat, making it sting. Then, the Brutes began to speak again, laughing at each other, barking out their words, and… it sounded as though they were getting closer…
Fuck… no, no, why were they getting closer? There was nothing for them here…
Hayden found himself backed against the wall of crystals, trying his best to flatten himself to it, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t be seen.
He was seen.
One of the Brutes, one without a helmet, his jowls coated in red blood, stopped as he was halfway through walking across the opening of this dead-end, before he turned his head. The beast locked eyes with Hayden, before it laughed, raising a Banished weapon toward him, though it didn’t yet open fire. The Brute shouted out something to the others, his voice humored, probably something about “found more food”, or something just as equally disgusting.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even move. He could only watch as the Brute started to move closer…
Before a sudden rumble shook the entire cavern, a few crystals above wavering dangerously, though they did not break. This distracted the Brute, who paused,a frown besetting his face as he barked something back to the others. He got no response.
Following this, an explosion could be heard. Distant and muffled. Something was going on outside. A firefight? Internal fighting, maybe the UNSC remnants? Or worse… one of Cortana’s Guardians had arrived…
That thought made Hayden shudder as the Brute turned around, clearly deeming the marine as a non-threat. He wasn’t sure what pushed him to do it, but he did it. He actually fucking did it. One second, he was pressed fearfully against the wall, seconds away from pissing himself, and the next he was on the Brutes back, trying to scratch and tear at his throat from behind.
Despite the sudden spur of motivation, it didn’t account for much. The Brutes massive arms grasped the human easily, and flung him away. Hayden flew threw the air before crashing upside-down against a wall of crystals, then he slumped to the ground, disoriented. He could hear the Brute roar in anger, stomping toward him–before a burst of sound echoed through the tunnel, and a heavy, dull thud announced that the Brute had fallen into a heap of its own gore.
Shaking his head, Hayden slowly pushed himself into a more comfortable position that was less upside-down, and focused on the dead Brute. His eyes turned to look at his savior. A green-armored hand reached out to him.
“Chief,” Hayden gasped, feeling tears sting his eyes as he reached out his good arm–then paused. This armored soldier wasn’t the Master Chief, and it didn’t look like any of the Spartan-IV’s, nor a member of Blue Team. In fact, its muscular arms were exposed between its shoulders and its gauntlets. It didn’t speak a word as it saw his hesitation, then retracted its hand to rest it on the barrel of the shotgun it carried.
“Don’t mind him, he doesn’t talk much,” another voice spoke in English from around the corner. Hayden looked away from the armored soldier to see a man approaching them. At his side were two individuals. One was a thin, young man, his dark hair dyed green, his face appearing as a permanent scowl. The other was what looked like a blue-skinned alien, long red hair pulled back into a ponytail, an eyepatch covering her eye. Or at least, he assumed it was female.
“What’s your name?” the man asked. He wore a black trenchcoat over all-black clothing, his unshaven face partly concealing a grizzled and weathered expression. Hayden got the impression that this man had seen it all, and was also under the impression that these people were allies.
“Lance…” Hayden breathed, though he found it was a bit of a struggle. That hit he’d taken earlier had cracked a few more ribs, probably. Damn, he was gonna need surgery or something to fix all this. “Lance Corporal Hayden Rodes, s-sir…” he finally managed out.
The man gave a nod at this, eyeing the wounds of the Marine. “Undyne?” he asked, glancing toward the blue woman, who gave a shrug in response before she approached Hayden. He watched as she dropped to a knee, and placed a glowing green hand over his broken leg. A sensation of warmth came over him.
“W-what are-”
“Don’t worry, she’s healing you. It’s a type of magic from her world,” the black-clothed man stated, his eyes squinting at Hayden, seemingly assessing him.
Magic? What the hell? Magic was just science nobody understood yet, so… perhaps this alien woman had some kind of biological feature that let her accelerate natural growth of cells, leading to quick healing and… this was making his brain hurt.
“The one who saved you is known as Doom Slayer,” the man continued, gesturing toward the armored man. “The one who destroyed that Banished ship is Nanashi,” he gestured to the silent man beside him. Nanashi gave a slight nod, but that was it. “My name is Chris Redfield. Commanding Officer of Hound Wolf Squad, BSAA, but… well, there’s a lot to catch you up on.”
There was a sudden painful snap, making Hayden cringe, gritting his teeth, before the soothe of warmth returned. His leg had been snapped back into place by this Undyne’s “magic”. “Wow…” Hayden grunted as the woman moved her arm up to his stomach, and the warmth settled over his broken ribs.
“We don’t have much time,” Chris Redfield stated, glancing back. “The Banished don’t usually come out this far, yet, but they’ve been building. Something big, and they’ve got help from God-knows-what. You know more about them than we do,” he nodded at Hayden, who frowned.
“Why would I-”
“Your weapons,” Chris gestured toward the crash site. “The Banished use those, too. I’d imagine that means you’re from the same universe.”
Same universe? What the hell was this guy on? He seemed to notice the confusion and doubt on Hayden’s face, as Chris simply nodded his head, a small smirk dancing on his stoic face.
“Like I said; there’s a lot to catch you up on.”