Malebolge

[acts_of_gord]

Gordon has seen this place before. Once, briefly, long ago, a portal opened at the top of the Citadel, the better to bring Dr. Wallace Breen across. The sky Gordon glimpsed then was a vile, lurid shade of red, the vista punctuated by the looming skyward spines of Combine architecture. It was a moment's glance buried swiftly by the need for battle then.

There will be no burying this now.

The sky- what can be seen of it- is just this side of fire, and Gordon has no doubt that it looks the same from horizon to horizon, forever. But there are things slipping through it, tiny specks seen from ground level that resolve to things much, much bigger, skywhale synths and mockeries of birds and other vessels and half-living things he can't name. And on the ground there are the roots of Citadels and smaller buildings- oh, yes, mile-high towers, more than one, some half-opened as the one in City 17 had been, some fully.

And there are things among them that he almost recognizes, striding through the endless shadows.

"We've 'ported in as close as we can," he says tersely.

(There are only humans and trolls here. The Vortigaunts declined to participate. One of them said to Gordon that they would be taking measures at home against 'unforeseen interference'.)

(Gordon appreciates the thought.)

"We're aiming for the direction of greatest spatiotemporal distortion, since that's what the Overmind exists for. Current bearing from this location is two o'clock. Let's move."

Before the things making the electrical crackling sounds that almost resemble speech come this way.

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

"Roger, on your six."

Voodoo knows better than to pretend he's got a goddamn clue how to navigate a place like this. He'll stick to Freeman for now, his eyes rapidly working over the terrain and his M60 at the ready.

[hecu_marine]

Gordon's not the only human here who's had to navigate something this distorted, this wrong. Shephard's darting from cover to cover, head low, rifle raised, the unnatural bulk of a rebuilt displacer cannon strapped to his back. He's fought the Combine before; more importantly, he's fought the Xen things on their native ground, where navigation is as much a case of willpower as of wayfinding. The Synths that prowl the shadows here aren't so different from all that.

And there's one other, the oldest of them here now: Barney Calhoun. Not that he was in Xen long, but... you don't forget that, you don't forget reacting to that, you don't forget any of that. Maybe more importantly, he spent years running silent and deep under cover as one of the Combine's metrocops; he might not know how to react to the weirdness here, but he knows how these alien bastards think, and silently signals the Resistance fighters and the trolls alike to follow- this pathway, that turn, hang back now before the flying things the size of small aircraft spot you- all of that.

[nepetaleijon]

It's not that different from home, Nepeta tries to tell herself. Not so different from the game, either.

It's getting easier and easier to purrtend pretend Karkat is here with them; she can practically hear him rolling his eyes at that, telling her to stop that kind of thinking, this place may be as dangerous as home but it's not home, they have to remember that. Those monsters are not Alternian monsters.

I don't care, she tells him silently. We can still kill them.

[acts_of_gord]

Space Itself is wrong here, one gets the feeling- as if one point would not connect to the very next, if it had a choice. As if this place were designed to be folded up and in and around itself and the mere act of walking in a straight line were defiance against the unseen order of the impossible this place represents.

The monsters do not seem to care. Some were born to this kind of madness, like the monstrous maggot-shaped things sailing through the poison-hot air far above, or the jointed, armored things that might wake memories indeed if Karkat were here to see them. Some were shaped to it, like the ones that- oh, yes, there are plenty of these, if one looks and stays hidden- not even the ones that walk on two legs, that have five fingers on each hand. And some, well, some seem to revel in it, as the three-legged things that lope through the shadows ahead do.

Freeman freezes at the sight, silently snarling behind his helmet and reaching for his weapon. He's not going to engage- not yet. Not unless the Hunters strike first.

But he doesn't take the things lightly.

[bloodyvirgo]

Something about this place is wrong. It goes beyond just being in another dimension, because Kanaya knows everyone here is on edge because of that. But there's something more that sets her on edge, something that niggles at her mind and tells her she should be able to make right.

She tries to push that aside though, as their group creeps forward slowly, eyes darting from foe to foe while she waits for the command to engage.

[acts_of_gord]

There's a low, hollow cry from above. Gordon looks up sharply.

An almost egg-like pod drifts out of the blackness between two buildings and unfurls a mess of cables and lights. "Open fire!" shouts Gordon, and begins doing so immediately.

There's no point hiding now. What that thing's seen, they've all seen.

[boston_bruiser]

Don't need to tell him twice, Gordon. Voodoo's M60 is up and pumping lead into that thing like it's going out of style.

[acts_of_gord]

It shatters and swiftly explodes.

But there are others, and they are dropping things that chitter and beep and flash colors, and Shephard swears loudly as one of them bounces off a wall and explodes on its way down. "Prox mines!" he calls. "Watch your ass!"

Gordon's going to do what he can, but he's only got one gravity gun and he can only punt so many of the things around at a time. And there's a sound of electrical roaring as multi-legged things start heading their way as well.

Shit, as they say, just got real.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard's said before that if it's got a trigger he can use it and if it bleeds he can kill it, but if it doesn't bleed it's gonna take a little bit longer. And usually? That's pretty true. Right now?

Right now Shephard has an XV11382-a Prototype Displacer Cannon. And the XV11382-a does not NEED time, fuck y'all very much.

THWORP.

Most of one of the Synths is now missing. What's left would fall to the ground if it weren't for the shock wave caused by the collapse of the displacer cannon's sudden, shining portal. And Shephard is now significantly more of a target in the eyes of the things closing in than he'd been before.

Given the way he's running zig-zag from building to building, firing on Synths and mine patches alike and waiting for the shockwaves to rip through anything in his way, he seems not to be too worried about that.

[acts_of_gord]

"How come I didn't get one of those?" wonders Floyd Mason.

"Because you don't kill things well enough, you nimrod!" yells Barney right back at him. "EARS!"

"What?"

FA-THOOM!
FA-THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!

Gordon's using the gravity gun, Shephard's using his displacer cannon, but Barney, practical sort that he is, is clearing the hopper mines away- and making life miserable for the attacking Synths- by fighting explosives with explosives. Thank Heaven for hand grenades.

(Especially since the other Resistance humans are bright enough to twig to his example; the group is suddenly at the center of a rapidly expanding cluster of exploding fire.)

[bloodyvirgo]

For a short while, both trolls stick close to Shephard, but it quickly becomes apparent that that arrangement isn't going to work out. Kanaya and Nepeta are melee fighters, while Shephard and his team obviously favor firearms. Soon they're drifting into the no man's land between the ranged fighters and the Combine, picking off the ones that manage to get close while simultaneously keeping a weather eye on their ally.

This proves to be...difficult, and the two adolescents look to one another, coming to a silent agreement as they wade into the thick of things.

[acts_of_gord]

And the thick of things comes wading out to meet them. The backbone of the Combine's armies was a race of Synth more quickly grown and easily altered than humans, and less difficult to control than the so-called Race X (much of which is currently busy assaulting the humans en masse). They were monstrous, naturally armored four-legged things with very little brain but quite a lot of stamina and aggression to begin with. It took little effort to make them obedient, and then to make them dependent, and then to weaponize them- sharpen the claws and pincers, mount automatic weaponry on their undersides, kit them out with equipment that feeds the EM spectrum directly into their sensorium. Cheap, solid, reliable, and deadly; even the Combine could see that as an advantageous combination.

The humans call them crab synths, and two of them are bearing down on the trolls.

[nepetaleijon]

They look ... disturbingly reminiscent of Karkat's lusus. Complete with stamina and aggression.

(She can guess Karkat's reaction to that, and it doesn't involve hesitation.)

Nepeta doesn't wait for them to get close: she launches herself at the foremost of the crab synths, her favorite BLUE MOUSERS out and raking, slicing through armor and exoskeleton and flesh. To one side, she can hear more than see Kanaya charging in to join her.

If those things have health vials, they're getting depleted in one hell of a hurry.

[acts_of_gord]

The other Synths howl or roar or bellow. The crab synths have no voices to speak of beyond the hammering thunder of their guns; they're spinning and thrashing rapidly to either shake the melee fighters loose or slam them between their own bulk and the nearest wall.

(Or to splatter their compatriots if any come too close. And there are a few humans who seem inclined to do precisely that, as the air fills with blood and lead and energy fire.)

> Kanaya: Ride crab synth like a mechanical bull.

[bloodyvirgo]

Kanaya hasn't had a decent fight on her hands since the allpocalypse in Bar. That was a good while ago now, though, and however restrained the jadebood aspires to be, she is still a troll and fighting is one of the things she does best.

The crab Synths are especially fun, Kanaya clinging to one as it bucks and thrashes until she ends the ride with a roar of her chainsaw.

[hecu_marine]

"The metal I am, the iron you feel
The song of the dead, the chorus of steel-"

Shephard's left off on his displacer cannon and turned to a Combine weapon that vaguely resembles an Overwatch pulse rifle. He doesn't recognize it, but he doubts it matters. It's loaded and it puts holes in Synths when he points it at them and pulls the trigger. Not like he needs a functioning souvenir when this is all done.

"I, I am the blade, I break the oath that you made-"

Something wings him, searing across his protective gear and skittering away. He's not bleeding, it wasn't breached- but the shock of even that glancing impact sends him staggering. He drops to one knee even as he swings around to take aim and fire on the source of the attack.

"I, I am the mace, I am the blow in the face-"

and-
So tear me open, but beware
There's things inside without a care
everything
It's the nexus of the crisis
And the origin of storms
Just the place to hopelessly
Encounter time and then came me
pulses.
And the dirt still stains me
So wash me, until I'm clean
"what. the shit."

[boston_bruiser]

The M60 bucks as another Synth dies, and Voodoo's drawing a bead on another, about to squeeze the trigger-

-when there's a surge-

(blood on the snow, blood on his hands)

-and a burst-

(the car is a heap of twisted, smoking metal, and he can still recognize the occupant, even with a support through their throat)

-and a wave that threatens to split his head in two-

(the fire was five years ago, but he can feel the flames, hear the crackles and sparks, smell the ash)

-blinds him with a supernova of colors flashing across his eyes, bright as lightning, quick as thunder-

(Rabbit, wake up)

-and he crashes back to reality, his body in a ditch, his mind playing catch-up like a greyhound after a ball.

"Where the fuck's that coming from?"

[smelltheashes]

That's an excellent question, Voodoo. Maybe the silhouettes approaching from all directions can anser that.

The ones that look like Advisors, but bigger and skinnier and bristling with so many antennae that their flesh can barely be seen.

Assuming you can still see straight at all.

[nepetaleijon]

For the most part, the two fight back to back, moving quickly and cutting their own niche in the alien masses, dodging explosives or hurling enemies into them. Nepeta's leaping and slashing, fangs bared in a fighting snarl; Kanaya, for her part, is snarling right alongside Nepeta, all form of propriety thrown out the window in the heat of battle.

(In Nepeta's head, there's an image of Karkat fighting beside them, scythes whirling.)

There's starting to be too many of them. Nepeta exchanges a quick glance with Kanaya: fraymotifs?

Kanaya gives a quick, confirming nod, and hefts her chainsaw in anticipation.


>Rogue and Sylph: Kick ass.

[acts_of_gord]

Space is not, hasn't ever been, anything like smooth or even or unified. Mass distorts it. Force distorts it. The laws that govern it fall apart at the farthest edges and look very different at the center. It's not a fabric and it's not a ball, it's a mass of sponge and jelly, all knots and gaps and twisted places that scarcely ever get noticed.

And that's Earth's universe. This is the Combine Overworld. The laws are different here. Broader. Looser. More suspect to being leaned on and torn apart. It's how they found their way to a million other universes to begin with: their own was such a magnificent mess as far as governing laws go that it was easy to figure out how to leave it. Mass distorts space. Force distorts time. Power distorts perception. Things that ought to follow one upon the other--

This is not, has not ever been, linear. That is not the nature of this place.

This universe is the center which does not hold, and all the things the humans and the trolls alike perceive-

Well. Who knows what order they ought to be in. That doesn't make a difference here.

Because the things that are here and that are now are not Advisors, but Adepts, and power... distorts.

It will be an amazing thing indeed if anyone here sees their way out of what the Adepts have just begun to visit upon them.