Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

03.26.20XX

      Thoughts pour out of your head like waterfalls crashing down on still water below, disturbing the fleeting moment of inner peace you’d just found. You knew well enough by now that these thoughts couldn’t be stopped; no matter what dangers your day presented, how productive you forced yourself to be, or how many nights you tossed and turned alone, they always loomed behind. Any amount of alcohol now made things worse, instead of diverting your attention like it used to. You couldn’t ingest any more off-brand UAC medical supplies to get high—the last time you did, you nearly died, and someone had to keep the base running. But did this abyss of guilt keep you alive all these months, no, surely even years by now? No. Staying active did. Scavenging around your decaying environment, building up your modest abode from what once was a dinky little cabin into a full-fledged home did. The sheer drive and willpower to live did. And, the best part was, you didn’t owe anyone anything for it. Not all the pain you’ve endured, the horrors you’ve seen...

      Especially not   him . The bastard who started it all.

      Sighing, you rapidly shake your head and recenter your mind, trying to focus on the task at hand—a simple, yet profound, snapshot. You’d found an old, solar-powered camera during one of your raids of a ransacked village nearby, leading you to pass your time picking up small photo opportunities whenever you could. The moon brilliantly shone through the dark clearing, illuminating the vast fields below; outlining your vision was the deep pond circling the clearing, ensuring that the demons who tried to enter your home had a hell of a time doing so.  

      Snap!  

      The shutter excitedly clicks, but the result isn't nearly as stunning as you were hoping for—the lighting is dim, the subject is blurry, and the colors are washed out. Fuck, you think, but there's always tomorrow night. You have to get up early tomorrow to hunt for more supplies, since accidentally tripping over a bunch of empty gas cans earlier reminded you that your stock was running low... while you're there, should you just go back through the old town nearby? Maybe you'd find more tools for the S.O.S. you were planning. Maybe… even a new person or two, since it's been so long. You quickly remind yourself of the dangers of getting your hopes up too much. Regardless of what tomorrow brought, you’d burn that bridge when you got to it; right now, it was time to try and fall asleep.

      You set down the old camera you’re gripping onto after retaking a picture of the serene background for good measure—who knows what'll happen in a moment, so you always make it a point to savor today like it’s your last. Thankfully, that one turned out better! Now satisfied, you retreat to your room, where your eyes catch the plush bed sitting in the corner, looking as inviting as ever—a rare delicacy in these times, since domestic comfort is the last thing anyone had in mind after the outbreak. Soon, the enveloping darkness combined with how exhausted your muscles were from working around the property all day, set you adrift into a cautious slumber.

      There were no dreams that night.

      -

      -

      -

      A rooster crows in the distance, signaling that the restless sleep you’d been in was now over. The curtains are still open, letting harsh sunlight in your room, but the instinct to complain is instantly squashed by the clear view of your surroundings. As you sit up and rub your eyes, your stomach growls… Okay, looks like it’ll be an early morning this morning. Fridge margins are... dismal at best, with only 2 eggs and a few spinach leaves left to make breakfast with. At least the water filter’s still full! As you bring the materials outside and start a fire with leftover wood from yesterday’s project, reinforcing the dam, those lingering thoughts float in… again. You sigh as your mind inevitably replays the same scenarios over and over again: the success and happiness of your old life, career, relationships...

      It’s all in the PAST! You hiss to yourself, huffing and shaking your head as you begin to eat. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing right now, or what the facility's latest project is, or whatever else—not after what he DID TO YOU! Apparently, that residual resentment can’t color the nostalgia of your old life dark enough. You just can't seem to forget. A dull pain haphazardly shoots through your soul as the silent reflection starts up again, and you realize yet again, you miss—

      Bzzzt... Bzzzt...

      Your old phone excitedly chatters in the background, notifying you that a new signal just got picked up (and breaking up your concentration).

      W ait. A signal?

      You immediately drop your fork and snatch the phone: sure enough, there’s a tiny bar on the upper-right-hand corner. So, there’s still a glimmer of hope after all, huh? You grin and let out a small (but excited) shriek as you frantically type in the first command you can think of while watching the screen buffer like a hawk. It takes what feels like years to even register the request, but... then:

      "ERROR: SERVER CONNECTION TIMED OUT.”

      “NO!” You loudly exclaim, letting out a deep sigh and slamming the device back down onto the counter next to you. “Fuck... Ugh, I can always try it again when I get back into town, though. I'm out in the middle of nowhere anyway.”

      -

      -

      -

      You haven’t eaten breakfast that quickly in a long time. What can best be described as determination surges through your veins, driving you to get in your Challenger and get that damned phone working. Pushing back into your home, you holster your weapons: a beaten-up (yet-adored) UAC pistol on your right, a Bowie knife on your left, and the top of a modified UAC Praetor Suit over your torso. One of the biggest perks about being sent back to Earth from the Mars Base was that you had tons of arsenal to bring home, and your security clearance meant that there were no complaints. Rushing to put on your jet-black military boots, now stained with mud, guts, and who knows what else, you give yourself a look in the mirror and figure some makeup might be the final cherry on top. Hey, it’s the apocalypse—you can’t go around looking too haggard. You still have some level of self-respect after everything you’ve lived through. Now, it’s your favorite part of the whole routine: starting the mission and getting to drive with no cops enforcing the speed limits. Thanks to all the hard work you’ve done over the years, you have a few vehicles to choose from; however, judging by the deeply repressed emotional pain your mind keeps throwing back at you this morning, the vehicle choice was easy. Energy surges through your system as you power on your Challenger, its boisterous, deep engine roaring through the room to contrast the sharp whine caused by the ARC tech added to it. Speeding out onto the open road, you decide to switch on the radio for the hell of it—usually, only the same few global ARC Broadcasts played since no one knew how to work a station anymore. Let alone, actually have the balls to broadcast somethi—

      "This is an ARC Broadcast. There are reports coming out of the quarantined Hellified zone near the San Andreas Chasm.”

      A new one? So that’s why your phone picked up the signal. “Hmph, well I’ll be damned. There’s still hope, after all,”

      “Satellite imagery shows what ARC personnel believe to be the legendary Doom Slayer himself fighting the mortally challenged,"  You freeze in your seat, a chill passing down your spine, but recover quickly to roll your eyes at the PoLiTiCaLlY cOrReCt term, “The Doom Slayer, or ‘Doomguy’ as he is sometimes referred to, was thought to be a myth of the resistance – a sort of avenging angel. He was last reported to be seen on Mars and is allegedly responsible for the destruction of the Argent Tower there—”      

      You forcefully slam on your brakes, triggering numerous warnings on the overhead console and HUD. “Destruction of the Argent Tower? But… how could,”

      Heart racing, you struggle to comprehend the reality of the situation you’re picturing. Your own inner struggle tones out the car’s obnoxious blaring: Sam’s tower, the one he cared so much about and put so much time, energy, whatever else into... fuck, the one you walked around in, just… gone? Like that? How could Sam let that happen? Was he okay? No, he wouldn't let that happen. ..Did the demons get to him and cloud his judgment, or, even worse, kill him, just like they did Olivia? No, that fucker was basically immortal from all the argent energy in his system and how narcissistic he was. But as for the ‘Doom Slayer’? Is... is that who you think it is? Flashbacks to a distant reconnaissance mission flood your eyesight. The rapid thoughts grow into a full-blown panic attack as the Challenger now blares your spiking heart rate at you, dropping a bottle of water and a pre-packaged bottle of pills into your lap. You couldn’t care, though—you needed to focus on the situation at hand.

      “No, no, nononono don’t tell me…”

      “He disappeared soon afterwards. The UAC continues to deny all reports of his existence. We will continue to broadcast new information as we receive it.”

      Phew, a small sigh of relief. Whispering a curt "thank you" to the car, you carefully sip the water, letting your head cool as the sensations soothe your parched throat. The “Doom Slayer” disappeared for now, and if the UAC was still together, even by a mere thread, that meant that Sam was still alive somewhere. He had to be. Thank God. You narrow your eyes with annoyance at the relief you feel at that revelation but quickly brush those thoughts aside; there are still so many unknowns, so many things you need to find answers for, so many uncertain things... fuck, it drives you mad. The revelation, while exciting at first, soon ate at you, draining the otherwise productive mood you’d started the day with as you slump back into the driver’s seat and rest your head on the steering wheel. The realization that you can’t escape your heartbreak, meaning you still (and most likely always will) love him… it’s truly devastating. You allow yourself to cry sorrowful, bitter-tasting tears in an attempt to help your poor, traumatized mind process; it looks like, even though you promised to move on and become “fully independent”, you couldn’t help but hold onto those old passions after all. And by God, is that your biggest weakness.

Chapter Text

      Nothing mattered anymore. It was all just a reminder that not much time was left, that no matter how much technology advanced, you were still mortal . Weak. Visibly and heavily shaking, you held the now-bloodstained pistol in your bruised, cracked hands, caressing the edges to seek some sort of salvation—mentally, physically, spiritually, no matter what or where it came from. The desperate gesture proved you were nothing like him: you still had a human heart, human emotions, and a living, breathing body, as did all the soldiers and scientists (including Pierce, although she sought to distance herself from that). It didn’t matter how many excavations it took, surely you’d be broken down and made into rubble just like the rest of them. You weren’t truly this “Pillar of Strength” everyone idealized; hell, were you even a real UAC member or just an improvised member of the PR team? Why did Sam put so much faith into you, someone who wasn’t even fully trained, let alone capable? Maybe it was because you “worked hard”. Heh, or maybe it was just because you had a nice rack. In an instant, though, your gut instinct swore up and down again that he saw your work ethic and how much you "tried to do better". But now, try as you might, you couldn’t even bring yourself to finally let go of some of that pent-up emotion, the burning sensations of shame, fear, and disgust fading away into bitter, hollow, broken nothingness. It was like you weren’t even human anymore, considering how numb you were to the current situation. But that’s just what a “real leader” was supposed to be, right? Yes, an immovable, unfeeling statue to push forward no matter what and resist conflict. 

      Just like Sam. Yeah, he was super strong, you reckoned. 

      The outward projection of your emotions at the UAC acted just like he modeled; except, no matter how much you craved the level of emotional deprivation he had, it was forever out of reach. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You would never be a real leader. You would never make him happy. You led all those fans on, all those thousands, if not even millions, of people into thinking you were a determined, "strong" person. Another human. 

      A woman. 

      No, no, no. Just bullshit. Was it really getting colder outside, or was your body temperature just rapidly dropping? Were you more thirsty for water, affection, power, or praise? The thoughts were racing, and you couldn't stop them no matter how much you tried; it was pointless, just like you wasting another moment here at the UAC Mars Facility. 

      Deep footsteps resonated down the hall, lightly trembling the room as a brisk pace towards you was made, but it didn’t matter anymore. You couldn’t save them. More importantly, you couldn’t save him.

      Maybe this was all just a big mistake. Sam could figure everything out on his own, just like he always did—right? He could send some more unmanned drones into Hell as opposed to human-led squadrons, and that Bitch Olivia would argue that his efforts weren’t enough, and it would go back and forth and back and forth until he fired her, and then the demons would break out anyway whether or not you were there to try and stop anything. 

      Right? 

      Yes… it all made sense now! There was no need for you to be here! Samuel Hayden was a fucking robot, he wasn’t a human anymore, he didn’t need any moral support! The scientists were just all just mindless drones in reality, nothing more than pawns in Samuel’s big endgame, and Pierce was just getting corrupted with power from the Argent energy, withering away at not just her mind and body, but rather her mere soul instead. It was all going down, and fast. Fuck, it’d honestly be easier for everyone if you got out; maybe you could go back to performing on Earth just like you used to, singing more songs of praise, and hope, and anger for distraction. 

      If they’d even welcome you back at this point. 

      The door swung open and, in an instant, two heavy, cold arms were upon you, pulling you close—the embrace was so tight, so… alien, that you couldn’t move. You almost, almost felt warmth radiating off him, a mere fallacy that he truly gave human-esque comfort in your time of need. He was always so composed. Too composed for your melodrama. Fuck, even as he lowered his head to try and meet yours, he just couldn't bring himself to search your lost gaze. To accept the fact that you were someone else. Maybe he wasn't emotionally strong enough.

      Or maybe he was just scared and confused.

      Regardless, you still think he really tried to comfort you in the residual moments that weren't a total blur. He held you close, so close you almost couldn’t breathe, even, but the familiarity of the gesture was outweighed by your heart’s stillness. By the fact that your soul wretched back into the depths of your psyche after hearing his soothing voice shushing you, reassuring the building internal panic that everything would be okay. By the fucking fact that you couldn’t keep a relationship, no matter what you did. In that moment, all the chips were down for him: nothing and no one else mattered, except keeping you sane. Keeping you close. Could you say the same? Could you recover from such a harsh blow and return to the fraction of normalcy you had before all this? He kept that visual in his mind, hoping to send it telepathically and change your now-determined future.

      But it was too late.

      You’d made your mind up.

      -

      -

      -

      The stench of rotting meat and flesh crowded your lungs as you wiped the remnants of tears from your now-glassy eyes, staring down at the abandoned grocery store and accompanying suburbs. Fuck, if it was already this bad, then you might have to break out your gas mask— if you even remembered to put it back into the trunk after you cleaned out the splattered Imp remnants. A faded B N’ L logo sorrowfully gazed down at you, making you wonder what horrors it had witnessed in its lifetime; the ravaged strip malls, reduced to mere pebbles from the earthquakes, demons, or whatever else, weren’t any better off. 

      The sight was so barren… there was no life here anymore. People used to work here, families used to play here, thick, tall trees used to bloom here, providing shelter and food for the bushy squirrels, fat pigeons, and shade for the young children, all for what? A corporation to put “research first” and wipe it all away, as if it was nothing? It was but another grim reminder of your own mortality; going into hell put it into perspective, sure, but things were different then. Now, you saw the accounts of their actions firsthand. You knew what had to be done. And, yet, you did nothing to stop them. 

      Without fully comprehending your actions you fished around the cabin, finding a hidden bottle of bourbon and downing a huge gulp; your instincts craved more, your body shook for more, fuck even your stomach cried out for more as the smooth, tangy liquid rolled down your parched throat. 

      Then, your eyes opened. You didn't even remember closing them. 

      The shattering revelation that you weren't, in fact, back at the base but rather in the Challenger, actively fighting off another relapse shook you to your core. Fuck, you couldn’t let Aikyoko see you like that. Surely, you had more self-control over yourself than a maggot with no morals, no self-respect; was that really the example you wanted to show her? That dependence on substances was the only way to get through “trauma”? Fuck. That. Life was a game, the ultimate test, and only the strongest survived; Aikyoko was the strongest support system you had, and that undying loyalty surely meant that you were strong somewhere, too. You placed the bottle back into the now-disorganized glove compartment and took a deep breath, putting in your earbuds and choosing a fitting playlist. Yep, you’d need the gas mask alright: not from the smell, but so the world wouldn’t have to see your tears.

      Wanting to just move on and uphold the plan you made earlier that day (which now felt like a lifetime ago), you got out of the car and searched again for a signal. Sure enough, it was much stronger here—you made a mental note to try and connect to social media again after the scavenging was done. The device still had other uses, though: you opted to instead fire up the device’s hand-fashioned radar to try and identify anything living nearby (or, likewise, anything hellified). No traces of either after a few scans… a much-welcomed reading, as opposed to the latter possibility. Taking a deep breath, you trudged along the cracked pavement into the abandoned grocery store; rather tried to, as the entrance was barricaded with graffitied plywood. A swift kick took care of that. Stepping through the hole, your eyes trailed down the tipped-over shelves and open freezers, taking in the sheer damage of the place—its concrete pillars were mostly exposed, and the blood-stained walls that remained bore deep cracks through their foundations. It wasn’t structurally sound, meaning that you had to hurry up and find some non-perishables before the place decided to come down. There were still some bodies here, but barely: battered skeletons, withered from claw/bite marks and years of erosion, stared up at you, some still open-mouthed and stuck in a permanent scream as their busted jaws disintegrated into the dusty ground below. Your face fell into a scowl as you brushed past them, scanning the remaining shelves for any canned goods; even if the food inside wasn’t good, you could still empty them out and reuse the cans for your own goods. Sure enough, there were some left! A little battered, but still. You pocketed as many as you could (well, in reality as many “undamaged” ones as you could), and, after scanning the nearby stores and coming back with similar results, you loaded everything into the trunk. Thank god it went deep—you’d need all the space, with how much you needed to forage this time around. You really, really couldn’t wait so long again.

      Next, it was time to try and find any more fruits and vegetables, or, at the very least, seeds for said fruits and vegetables. After going back and looking more in-depth in the “Gardening” section, you ended up finding a handful of seeds… even though you had no idea who put them there, or even what the hell they were, you could still plant them and figure it out regardless. While you were over there, you headed to the nearby Outdoorsmans’ store to see if you could scrounge for any more ammo, armor, whatever. It was stripped bare. Oh well, at least others had the chance to get some good supplies out of it; you’d have more chances to restock your weapons-related supply later, anyway. After getting back and putting the seeds into a sack in the trunk you’d prepped, it was now time for probably the most important (and, of course, hardest to find) part—finding more gasoline. 

      Taking a bunch of gas cans into your arms, you first went to double-check the ghosted gas station nearby. Nothing. Fuck . That meant you now had to either siphon anything you could out of the abandoned vehicles in the parking lots or, at least, try to scrape by until you can scout out another town to scavenge. Another deep sigh emanated from your lips as you realized there were probably over 50, maybe even 75 cars to go through; while you were here, you might as well get any coolant, oil, brake/transmission fluid, whatever else out of them as well. You cleverly decided to take a methodical approach to the situation, going in vertical rows until there were none left. After doing a last scan of the area, making sure there weren’t any more threats, you finally took off your gas mask; the air here was still, falling into your lungs and reaching a breathable middle ground between clean and dirty. Shaking your head, you decided to just roll up your sleeves and do it.

      -

      AFTER!!!! AFTER YOU RECONNECTED (or, tried to reconnect) TO INSTAGRAM!!! YES, YES, THAT WAS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT!!!!!! YES, THANK God you remembered now, when you still had the energy to! You jolted up at the thought, pulling out the little device again and queuing up the platform with what little patience you still had. Surprise surprise, it actually fucking WORKED! Quickly going over to make a new post, you pulled up the camera, making sure you looked semi-decent. Taking a deep breath, you held the device up above your face, plastered on a convincing smile, and recited the lines you’ve practiced for months:

      “Hey there, everyone, I’m (Y/N) (L/N)... some of you may recognize me as a singer, or friend, or whoever else. Uhhh, I’m still alive, although I’m not sure if anyone else is; my coordinates are currently 38.9847° N, 77.0947° W, if someone is still out there and can find me. I have supplies, although they’re running low now, heh, so if you’re really gonna come by then you better do so quick. I’m probably gonna have to set up shop somewhere else in the near future, so in case you come out and I’m not there, try to follow or look for a red Challenger. Okay, uh, I’m gonna go back to foraging what I can now…. If you want to reach out and you don’t live near here, please private message me. Fuck, I...” You paused for longer than you were hoping for, “I don’t want to be alone anymore. Thanks for watching, I guess, take care out there and stay safe.”

      With a sigh, you quickly post it; you decide to share it across all your platforms, just in case. That’s good, at least someone will see it, right? Now, you were left with one final task—emptying out all those cars would be grueling, sure, but with how many there were, the chances of you striking gold were pretty high.

      -

      It took 3 hours. Three. Fucking. HOURS to get all the fluids drained. The sun was starting to fall lower into the sky, just as your eyelids and sore muscles started to fall lower as you trudged along, using the now-repurposed cans to hold the additional fluids. You also not only had to get more gas cans out of the stores, but totes and crates as well. The backseat was now being used, since you ran out of room in the trunk. Oh well, at least you had more stock to last a while; your foresight also told you to get any commonly-known parts that broke easy, in case anything happened to your own vehicles (god forbid). Aikyoko’s built-in filters could handle upto 15 gallons of liquid; you had over 35, as a quick guess… in reality, it was probably even more. So, you decided to just pull over and switch the liquids out as you were driving, since that was probably the most efficient way to get the job done. Honestly, at this point even if you tried to do anything else you’d pass out. You decided to just drive home, finally being thankful for the Autopilot system Sam insisted on—it might have just saved your life. As you (well, and a now-topped-off Aikyoko) sped away, the occasional, rhythmic beeping of the filters being ready to be swapped out was the only thing that disturbed your sleep.

      ———————————

      “Wait.”

      The rumbling, heavy stomping came to a stop as intense, deep-set eyes gazed around the still arena behind a heavily-tinted visor. A bloodied double-barrelled shotgun hung down at his side, the hook in between its barrels tensing in anticipation. The surrounding area was quiet… too quiet . 

      “I’m detecting a foreign life signal nearby, although I can’t get a good read on it. I’d recommend that you come back to the Fortress for now, as your Praetor suit’s health-regenerating properties are significantly lowered at the moment.”

      A glare shot back at the calming voice.

      “And, before you blame me for it, remember that you need to find another Sentinel Battery to repower the ship enough to sustain all the new energy demands. I can’t help that the hordes are getting worse and worse, but, believe it or not, you can try to be more careful before rushing out into anything.”

      Ironically enough, the huge figure blatantly ignored his companion’s objections and the bright, swirling blue portal that materialized behind him and, instead, followed the “life signal”’s marker on his HUD. He was sure he could take on whatever threat was out there, lest it be a demon, robot, or even another human; he wasn’t afraid of anything! 

      But, what if it was another human? 

      He paused for a second, letting out a slight shiver at the thought of another human; how long had it been since he’d been in another’s contact? When he looked up, harshly shaking his head and cutting off the thought, his eyes caught the trail of wide tire marks. So, there really might be someone else, huh?

      As soon as he started back on the trail again, an urgent message appeared in his HUD, crowding his vision and hearing with its flashing lights and loud, repetitive beeping: “Warning, Threat Level 4 Nearby. Take Caution Before Proceeding.”

      “See, I’m not the only one telling you to be careful. Besides—”

      He perked his head up, dismissing the warning.

      “I’m now receiving word of a new transmission, someone, or something, besides the ARC. Please come back to the Fortress immediately so we can assess it.”

      That got him to listen. Heart pounding faster, he cooly strode back into the new portal in front of him; if there was someone else, with something to say, he’d want to listen. The Sentinel Battery could wait.

Chapter Text

HELLO EVERYONE!

Wow, I can't believe how much attention my little story is STILL GETTING after my almost almost 3-year hiatus! My life is obviously much different now, and has been for some time (me being so busy with college and work has put a massive damper into my writing, as you can imagine). However... I have recently found myself unemployed 🥴 which is very unfortunate, but until my life picks back up again, I'm pleased to announce:

NEW RE-WRITES AND CHAPTER RE-RELEASES COMING SOON!!!

CHAPTER 1 IS ALREADY RE-UPLOADED!!! BY THE TIME CHAPTER 5 COMES OUT, EVERYTHING WILL BE REDONE!

I wanted to say thank you so much for all the continued support, it's so heartwarming to continue to get emails saying how a new person left a Kudos or Comment. Because of this, I've rediscovered my passion for writing! No promises that my new work will be anywhere near the same style (or quality since I'm so rusty) as my old work, but I will give this little story at least a few more chapters. Also, the Tellonym and Tumblr are still up! Feel free to drop by sometime and say hey! Stay tuned for more updates. <3