#addc

The gait of a predator. Of the man who tore his way through the gladiatorial pits, who single-handedly turned the tide against the forces of Hell. 

‘I want to show you the r-i-p-a-t-o-r-i-u-m.’ He then made a tearing motion, closely followed by the sign for gladiator. 

“The ripatorium?” Valen pressed. 

‘Demon storage. Training.’ He took Valen down a staircase to a large lift that had a heavy blast door. 

Valen said nothing, and silently stood beside his King while the lift doors closed and they descended into the deepest part of the Fortress. As the lift’s shaft became clear, thick glass, Valen saw the remains of an Atlan. 

It was only the top half of an Atlan, the enormous mechanical beings piloted by the Night Sentinels, hanging suspended in the air by enormous chains and large mechanical latches. It was missing everything from its middle down, and one of its arms entirely. The other arm was missing from the elbow down. 

“Is that where your Machine Spirit came from?”

He shook his head. ‘I brought Vega from Mars. U-A-C base.’ 

“Does the Atlan live?”

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘No machine spirit. The internals work though.’

The lift came to a stop, and the heavy blast doors opened. Valen stepped out behind the Slayer. There was a decently long corridor, and he could see a few benches pushed against one wall, a small box of medical supplies, and a spear laying across a bench. 

‘Ripatorium is through there. A few small demons are trapped inside.’ The Slayer pointed to the other set of doors. Engravings of Mayker origin were carved into the doors, a language Valen could not read. There was also a control panel that certainly was a part of the Fortress. 

The Slayer poked the control panel a moment and the heavy doors swung open to reveal a small control room. In the days where this Fortress would serve Argent D’Nur, here is where the Night Sentinels would train for combat situations. In the control room were a few consoles, most showing the stage below, where a handful of low level demons were crawling about, and one that showed a lock for the circular lift in the middle of the floor. The Slayer disabled the lock and stepped onto the circular lift. 

Valen joined his king and readied Hellbreaker. The lift descended, and the final blast door opened. The Slayer charged ahead with his arm blade readied, leaping from the high shelf and down into the battle below. Valen followed suit after a moment of observing the terrain. 

It was modeled after a ruined Argenta city. Firm, stubborn, ivy and moss climbed the broken walls. A few possessed corpses, the slayer referred to them as zombies, shambled about among imps and gargoyles. Most demons were already focused on the Slayer, allowing Valen to approach from the flanks and pick them off.

An imp spotted Valen and lunged for him, teeth bared, hellfire flickering along its arms. He swung Hellbreaker and it knocked the imp into a nearby wall. Its body exploded into hellfire and death char. 

One by one, the demons fell to the combined might of the Slayer and Valen. 

It was good exercise for the pair, falling back into synchronization with how the other fought. There were some bumps, one getting clipped with the backswing of the other’s weapon, or moving to better vantage only to find the other already within the space, but it was nevertheless successful. 

Soon, all that remained was death char and piles of gore. The Slayer tore the head off the last demon and tossed it aside with an amused snort. 

His King had his back to Valen, wiping the demonic blood from his blade. 

A thought passed Valen’s mind, a reminder of his king’s apathy towards the planet below. What remained of Argent D’Nur flashed through Valen’s mind, and he gripped Hellbreaker much more tightly. Orphaned children having got fend for themselves against the demonic invasion. Farms and livestock slaughtered and overtaken by hellgrowth. Rivers tainted by the demonic infection. Death and destruction plaguing every inch of land, and his King he trusted so had merely shrugged at any suggestion of a plan. 

Before any other thought could pass Valen’s mind, he swung Hellbreaker at his King. 

The end of the warhammer connected with his King’s helmet, and toppled the man without hesitation. 

---

John had been surveying the ripatorium, seeing if there had been some demon that had crawled into some nook or cranny to hide, when he had been attacked. When he rolled up into a crouch to see what had attacked, he only saw Valen, holding his warhammer aloft. Like he had just finished a swing. 

Questions shot through his head. Why did Valen hit him? Had he just somehow missed Valen suggesting they spar? What was he doing? Was Valen not as trustworthy as John had thought? 

“There has been a change in you, Hell Walker.” Valen circled John, and John gritted his teeth. Valen knew his distaste for the title of ‘Hell Walker.’ “The King I knew would never have allowed himself to be taken by surprise.”

John growled and rose to his feet, jaw set hard under his helmet. Just what was Valen playing at? 

“Something has made you soft.” 

The Slayer leapt at his opponent. Valen rolled to the side, John hit the wall. 

“Is it Warren?” 

John lunged, catching one of Valen’s legs and bringing him to the ground. They struggled, and John leapt out of the way when Valen brought the hammer down onto where his head had been mere moments before. 

They faced each other, Valen’s hammer held aloft, John’s arm blade extended. 

“It is Warren, isn’t it?” Valen barked. “He has made you distracted. You hid away to pleasure him after your victory. You did not continue to strike when Hell was at its weakest. Your wounds healed and you merely stood by while another world continued to be ravaged by Hell. What kind of King… what kind of savior would allow that?” 

A growl ripped out of John’s chest before he could stop it. “I am not a savior!” He struck first, throwing Valen’s hammer into the opposite wall. 

“You broke your vow of silence?” Valen drew a dagger and rolled to evade another strike. “For what? A mortal?” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He growled, and pounced. The dagger was knocked aside, and Valen was slammed into the wall. John tightly held Valen in place, one hand around his throat. He didn’t squeeze, but the threat was clear. 

“Then speak the truth, Slayer.” Valen snarled, unwavering despite his pinning. “Why do you hide away, in a fortress in the sky, when the world is being slaughtered right under your feet?” 

“I… I don’t know.” 

“Then fix it.” Valen hissed. “Get back to being the Great Slayer. Save this planet from its destruction. Become the King I remember you as.”

If his scowl could deepen, it would have at the reminder. “I don’t want to be a king.” He released Valen and took a step back. 

“But you do want this world to survive. So fight for it. Or Hell will claim another world.” Valen retrieved his weapons slowly. “We have done great damage to their numbers. Their methods of repopulation. Humans obviously cannot handle these creatures. If we do not save them, Warren is going to become the last of his kind… the last of his planet.” 

John grunted and went to make a hundred percent sure that no more demons remained in the ripatorium before making his way back up to the lift to head back up to the rest of the Fortress. Valen followed in silence. 

While the pair made their way back through the elevators and staircases to the bridge, John was in thought. 

How long has it been since the death of the Icon of Sin? The Khan Mayker? 

Surely it could not have been very long. He wouldn’t abandon Earth for too long after he healed his wounds. He thought back through the morning, hadn’t that broadcast mentioned the date down below? 

He checked his gauntlet. Ah, there was the broadcast from this morning. He made sure that it would only play in his helmet before pressing play. 

“This is a broadcast of the Armored Response Coalition. This is the beginning of week five since the being known as the Doom Slayer was last seen-”

Five weeks?! 

It had been over a month!? 

He quickly shut off the recording and tried to not look like he had just realized he had basically lazed around for five weeks. Five whole weeks. And what had he done since killing the Icon of Sin? 

Clean the armory so he could actually store things outside of the peg board in his man cave. Help Warren in the greenhouse. Make a modification to the Super Shotgun. Scavenge… twice? He had only scavenged twice since killing the Icon Of Sin. 

“My King?” 

John glanced over at Valen. 

“What is the plan for reclaiming the planet?” 

‘I still don’t know…. But we are going to make one. Vey might have ideas.’

“If I might suggest a course of action… we must assure that none who worship the demons might attempt to revive the Icon of Sin. If the Icon is revived, it would ravage the planet until you managed to bring it down once and for all.” 

He nodded as they moved through the hallway towards the bridge. Vega would have an idea for how to do that. Vega always had an idea for stuff like that. 

---

Warren had heard a commotion on the bridge and decided to go see what it was about. When he had seen John last, he had been putting on his armor to go spar with Valen in the ripatorium. Maybe they were heading down to the surface to go fight more demons? 

As the mobility drone took him into the bridge, Warren became fairly sure that is what was going on. Valen and John both stood at consoles with coordinates marked on them, and Vega was in the middle of an explanation about something. 

“-Wraith sigils should keep those who wish to do harm away from the body.” Vega had some strange symbols flash across the consoles. “It would also repel scavenging creatures, should any come within the area. I do not yet know what consuming the Icon’s flesh might do to any of Earth's organisms that assist in decomposition.” 

John typed something into one of the consoles while Warren parked his mobility drone on top of the one on the end. 

“Carving wraith sigils into the Icon itself might be advantageous.” Vega seemingly agreed with whatever John had typed out. “I will research and prepare the recommended sigils.” 

Valen spotted Warren first, tilting his head in Warren’s direction. That mechanical lens thing over his eye shifted, focusing on his little body. It sent a shiver up his back, reminding him too much of that blank, camera-like stare of Dr. Hayden. Warren forced a smile to be polite, Valen was John’s friend after all. 

“So, do you two have a mission?” Warren tried to make polite conversation. 

Valen nodded sharply, but didn’t say anything. 

Warren had to jog over to a console closer to John so he could hear through the thick helmet. “What kind of mission are you two going to go on?” Warren finally asked when he felt he was close enough. “Vega and I are going to reorganize our supplies to recalculate for another hu- uh, Argenta on the fortress. If it’s supplies, we can quickly put a list together for you.” 

John glanced at Warren, and then gestured for him to come closer. Warren obeyed and John picked him up in one hand. After a moment of being held, Warren was deposited near the interface of the consoles. He could see John had a little text document set up. After  a moment, a  message was pasted into the document. 

‘The body of the Icon of Sin is not secured. If any U.A.C cultists are still kicking around, they might want to try and resurrect it. We can’t let that happen. Valen and I are gonna go secure it.’ 

“Oh. A fighting kind of mission.” Warren rested a hand on the back of John’s. “Please be safe.” 

John raised his hand slightly to nudge against Warren’s side. He quickly typed something into the document. ‘I’ll be safe.’

Warren stayed by his hands for a little bit while he and Valen and Vega finalized the plan for what would happen while they went down to secure the Icon’s death site. From what he could see, the plan was for them to go down there, kill any demons or anything infected by the hellgrowth that they could find, and carve some protective or preventative sigils into the area and into the body itself to make sure nothing would be able to raise the Icon of Sin back to life. 

He had no clue how something like that could just come back to life because of some people meddling with it, but Warren knew that this stuff was all way over his head. He had no clue how Hell worked and didn’t want to know. 

Soon they were preparing to leave through a portal. 

Eventually, Slayer shook his arm, and Valen opened his eye to take in the room. It looked like the old bases from Argent D’Nur, but there were many screens and computers around. A portal frame was up against the glass, and beyond the glass was a sieged planet and many stars and the blackness of space. Looking away from the glass, he could see the banners of the Night Sentinels strung up on the walls, and the mark of the Slayer painted onto the walls near them. 

“You found a Fortress.” The architecture looked much more familiar now. There had just been some major modifications to it. More technology, some looking like it was of the Maykers, some completely foreign to Valen, had been incorporated. But at its core it was a Fortress. 

‘Plenty of room for another.’ Slayer gestured around to the large, empty space. 

“Another?” His head tilted ever so slightly. 

A voice, smooth and calm, rang out from everywhere. “Hello, Commander Valen. I am VEGA. The cybernetic intelligence in charge of the Fortress’ upkeep.” 

Valen blinked. A Machine Spirit controlled the Slayer’s portal network. A Machine Spirit was the voice inside his communications. That must be who the Slayer signs to in his helmet. It is only befitting for a War King like the Slayer to have a Machine Spirit to keep the Fortress in check. He has more important things to focus on than upkeep for a Fortress. 

A few small metal creatures came buzzing into the room, and began to disassemble the Slayer’s armor. He held out his arms so the creatures could get to his sides and unlatch it from his undersuit. When he got a better look, they looked like rounder, sleeker versions of aerial drones back on Argent D’Nur. 

As the drones buzzed around the Slayer, Valen spotted another creature nearby. Perched atop one of the consoles was a very small creature Valen momentarily mistook for a parasite that clung to the more powerful demons of Hell. Upon fully gazing at the creature, he could tell this was not the case. It looked like an Argenta, but very, very small. 

“Slayer.” Valen spoke, and the tiny creature scuttled backwards, like it had just noticed Valen. “Is there a pest problem on the Fortress?”

The Slayer turned to look at Valen, an eyebrow raised, and then his own gaze flickered to the tiny creature on the console. His scowl deepened and he planted himself between Valen and the tiny creature. ‘W-A-R-R-E-N. Not pest. Mine. Lover.’

“Lover?!” Valen blurted out before he could remember to hold his tongue. 

The Great Slayer nodded firmly. ‘Lover. Mine.’

It was more surprising than anything else to Valen. While he was with the Night Sentinels, he refused to take a lover, or even a personal courtesan he was entitled to with his status as a War King. Plenty had tried to win the Great Slayer’s favor but he had rejected each of them. Even those with high status. So what was so different about this tiny creature?

“John?” A tiny, timid voice sounded behind the Slayer. He immediately turned and gathered the little creature up in his hands. “Is that… Valen?” 

The Great Slayer nodded and turned to face Valen,the little creature seated in the palm of his hand, its own hands resting on the top of one of his fingers. 

Now Valen could get a better look at the creature. Long light brown hair was tied back into a low bundle, pale skin, bright eyes, a loose brown outer layer over a grey under layer that clung tighter to its body, dark grey pants, and leather boots covered its feet. There was a bag resting beside it in the Slayer’s hands. 

“Warren.” He put a fist over his heart and bowed his head. “I apologize for my remarks. I was unaware of your relationship to my King.” 

“It’s okay. You aren’t the first to think I’m a rodent.” He cleared his throat and shifted to be sitting up more. “It’s nice to meet you, Valen. Are you… moving in with us?”

“If my King allows me to stay, I will fight by his side.” He glanced up, and the Slayer nodded his head. 

Warren glanced between them for a moment, and then stood up. “Wait, King? You’re a King?” 

Slayer nodded softly, and lifted Warren closer to his face. He brought the creature over to his shoulder, but the little thing stubbornly clung to his fingers. 

“Oh, no, you stink.” Warren kicked at the Slayer. “I’m not getting any closer until you take a shower.” 

The Slayer huffed air through his nose at Warren and then set him back on top of the console. He turned back to Valen. ‘Decontamination shower. And then Vega can give you medical clearance.’ 

“I promise you, I am well.”

‘Not a suggestion. Follow.’ And the Slayer turned on his heel and gestured for Valen to follow him. 

He had no choice but to obey his King. A twisting hallway later, they were passing rows of barrack doors. At the end was a large communal bath area and other facilities. They looked largely unused, and that would make sense. There were private facilities and bedrooms that his King would be using, not to mention Machine Spirits do not need a place to be clean. Warren, as small as he was, would be in danger if he attempted to use a full decontamination shower.   

One of the round drones buzzed in with several kinds of folded cloth, settled it on one of the shelving units, and then buzzed off. 

“I brought towels and fresh changes of clothes for each of you. Once you are clean, I expect both of you in medical for a check up.” The machine spirit’s voice came from one of the speakers in the wall. “Afterwards, I am sure that both of you would appreciate a meal.” 

The Slayer nodded and began to strip from his undersuit, exposing the layers underneath. 

Valen had to work to remove his layers. First were his weapons, his hammer, named Hellbreaker, his knives, stashed in little places around his armor. Then his gauntlet was removed, and Valen began to unwrap the bandages and leather strips from around his flesh arm. Removing the lens that protected and augmented his damaged eye was tricky, but doable. Now he could remove the plates of armor itself. 

His armor was much less compared to his King, but it was substantial. It had to be in order for him to survive what Hell threw at him during his exile. It was the prototype for his King’s preator armor. What he built on to assure his King would be able to overcome the forces of Hell. 

The Slayer waved a hand to his good eye. ‘Need help?’ His top was completely stripped bare, showing his chest covered in scars of all kinds, some more faded than others. 

“I can manage, my liege.” 

He made an exaggerated eye rolling motion and walked over. He started to unhook the plates of armor on his back and legs. ‘Vega helps me when I ask. I will help you.’

Valen made a soft humming noise, but mostly just focused on getting his armor off. It had been very long since he had last been able to properly decontaminate himself with anything besides fire. It went much faster with another set of hands assisting removing the plates, and within a minute or so, Valen was only in his undersuit. That he could remove on his own. 

Finally, he wanted to remove his prosthetic arm so he could clean the socket. 

It only took undoing a handful of safety latches for the arm to go limp, and a good twist at the bicep had it coming free. 

There was a startled noise from the Slayer. Valen looked up and saw his king staring at the now detached limb. 

‘When did that happen?’

“After I created your armor, my King.” Valen stepped into the decontamination shower and it came on almost instantly. Warm water blasted into his skin, and dragged a soft moan out of him involuntarily. 

It had been so long since he had been able to truly clean himself. Harsh soap rubbed through his little remaining hair and against his scarred, mangled body felt like a blessing. 

He thanked the Wraiths that the Slayer chose to respond to his beacon. That his King felt him fit to battle once more by his side, and allowed him into his Fortress. 

~

The clothes that the machine spirit, Vega, had brought them, were a little tighter fitting than the Argenta wore. The pants were of a very soft material, held up by drawstrings, and more form fitting than most pants. The Slayer had called them ‘Sweatpants.’ The shirt given had odd sleeves, stopping only halfway down the bicep and the main part stopped at their hips. His prosthetic arm snagged the soft fabric and odd maneuvering of the sleeves had to be done to assure it would not tear the garment. The Slayer put on a larger shirt over it, with a pocket in the fronts, sleeves that ended at his wrists, and a hood that he kept down. A ‘hoodie’ he had called it. 

No shoes were given, and when Valen went to retrieve his undersuit to put over this layer, the Slayer stopped him. ‘No need. I don’t wear armor here if I don’t want to. Vega will take weapons and armor to the armory, and will clean them for you.’ 

That had certainly given Valen pause, even as he put on socks that had little rubber pads at the bottom to stop them from slipping. No shoes were given either. How much had his King changed that he wasn’t constantly wearing his armor? 

Had taking a lover truly changed him so much? Had the deaths of the Khan Mayker and the Icon of Sin tricked him into thinking their fight was over? 

Valen held his tongue for now, following him to the medical bay. 

Vega, the machine spirit, scanned both of them, and immediately cleared the Slayer for injuries. It took its time scanning Valen, undoubtedly cataloguing all that it found for him for later reference. After a few long moments, Vega spoke up. 

“You are severely malnourished, and showing signs of chronic dehydration. There is no current infection in your body, but your immune system looks like it is compromised from your time in Hell. There is an injection that I would like to give you to help your immune system stabilize.” 

Valen nodded, and a drone buzzed around the medical bay for a few moments. 

What was concerning about the medical bay in this Fortress was the lack of stasis pods. There were no sign of stasis fluid production either. He could see spots on the wall where stasis pods clearly existed once, but they had been removed at some point and now metal racks of supplies were in front of it. 

While the drone buzzed around, he turned to his King. “Were there no stasis pods in this Fortress when you conquered it?” 

He shrugged in response. ‘Yes, there were. But the machine that made stasis fluid was broken, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Vega and I tore them out for more storage.’

“I see.” Valen would have to see if he could get the machine running again. Stasis fluid would be imperative for repairing critical injuries in the future. If more numbers were added to the Slayer’s army, they would need to be able to treat many of them at once. 

The drone that had been buzzing around finally approached Valen and plunged a needle into his bicep. After a moment, it buzzed away. “You will experience a little bit of soreness and minor swelling in the area of injection. I will monitor to assure you do not experience any major side effects.” 

The Slayer grinned and signed up to the ceiling. ‘Anything else?’

“I am preparing a meal in the kitchen with Warren. I recommend eating and having water with electrolytes to assist in recovery for Valen.” 

‘Good.’ He looked to Valen and gestured for him to follow. 

As Valen followed behind him, he studied his King. He acted so differently than when they had reunited in hell such a short while ago. His shoulders were slumped instead of kept square. His lips would twitch up in a smile much more often. His gait had changed simply by removing his armor. There was still sureness and strength in his actions, but a strange change in his footsteps. He stepped lighter, footsteps much quieter, his heel struck the floor first, before the rest of his foot, and his weight rocked forward onto the rest of his foot instead of all at once. 

When they entered the kitchen, there was already something cooking, and the little man, Warren, was near it, piloting a modified drone around the kitchen. There were reigns attached to the sides, and he could see some of the handholds that had been molded into the body of the drone. 

“Hey, guys!” Warren spoke up, and landed the drone on the small table that had been shoved in the corner of the room. “Vega and I started some space potatoes and veg!” 

Slayer immediately went over and picked up the tiny man in his hands, nuzzling deeply into his miniscule body. Valen briefly mistook the small squeals for a scream of pain, but when the Slayer lifted his head from his hands, the little man was unharmed, and laughing. 

“If you’re done kissing on me, I could use some help getting into the canned meat so we can feed your friend.” Warren pushed his hands against the Slayer’s digits. “I’m sure he’s hungry after being trapped in hell for so long, and I’m starved.” 

The Slayer brought the little man up and tucked him between the downed hood and his neck. ‘Sit, Valen.’ He signed once his hands were free. ‘Vega will bring you something to drink. I will cook.’ 

He did as instructed, and couldn’t help himself watch his King prepare a meal with the tiny man on his shoulder. 

Having a lover like this certainly changed the Slayer. This was no longer the Unchained Predator, the Great Slayer that demons had so feared. He did not doubt his King. Never. But… something had changed inside of him. And Valen had no clue what it would mean for the planet Hell currently ravaged. 

He would need to discuss the further plan of action against Hell with his King. To assure himself that his King was still the same man who had spent so long in this siege against Hell. Valen would never abandon his side, no matter if there was a plan or not.