Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Salvo
Guardian
a Worm/Destiny Crossover
Chapter 29: Salvo
She stalked forward and found signs of Reaper's progress. A fallen monster, a spray of black ichor, gouges in the wall cut by a madman's sword. As she passed deeper the darkness began to...undulate...for lack of a better term. Just on the edges of her vision, as if it were both intrigued and frightened by her presence. Which was impossible, and also insane to boot. Darkness didn't move, and it was certainly not capable of curiosity. I have been down here for too long, she thought, to think shit like this. Still, as she progressed she couldn't shake the notion that she was onto something. It was all so surreal; the creatures down here, the tunnel network that wasn't supposed to exist, the sounds, the smells, that odd green glow that –
Wait a minute. She stopped in her tracks, boots gumming and sticking in a puddle of sticky, black, monster blood. Telling herself not to think about it, she looked to the steep gradient on her right. It was a sharp enough drop that she could slide down if it were slick enough. After about fifteen feet it leveled out and made a sharp turn to the left. Around that corner came that old-bruise green glow. She couldn't see signs of Reaper down that tunnel, they continued forward, in fact, but something...something about that glow told her she should go that way. It wasn't that she liked its look, or anything, because she did not. No, it was more like the idea that finding the source of that glow would also lead to her finding the beast they'd come down here for.
"Tails." She kept her voice quiet and hoped Lisa would remember to do the same. The hearing of these things was off the charts and she really did not need another fight. She kind of wanted one, but that wasn't nearly the same thing. "There's some light down here. Pretty sure it's a sign of the..." What was the word to use here? "infestation. Can you let Director Piggot know?"
"She heard." Thankfully, Lisa was as quiet as Taylor. Learning through experience, and all that. "Any sign of Reaper?"
"No, and I'm not sure there will be." She started down the slope, making sure to keep the gun barrel ahead of her feet. "I'm going towards it. You'll know if I found it."
Lisa sighed. "Of course you are, and of course I will. Gunfire, hellish screams. Can't wait. Okay, Guardian. Go get 'em."
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Crystals. Crystals, as designed by someone who had never heard of them and was an obsessive H.R. Giger fan. Pale, bony protrusions from molasses-dark constructs stuck to walls and ceilings. Splashed haphazardly around the place as if spat there. The light they emitted was the green light she had seen, despite the fact they were as pale as the bone they resembled. They looked vaguely slimy, as if the interior of their housing was some wet egg. Some part of her, the part that made you stop and stare at car accidents, wondered if they were warm to the touch. That part of her would be forever unsatisfied because there was no way in hell she was touching them.
I should check my gear while I can.
She may not get another chance to do so.
So she ran down the list. Knife: secure and ready. Almost eager. Bow: ditto. Pistol: riding heavy on her thigh. Half-dozen speed loaders in various vest and pants pockets. Rifle: Dirty, dinged, covered in sweat and gunpowder residue. Still usable. Three magazines left. After that, she only had herself. It would have to be enough.
A flickering in the depths of a long shadow. Orbs of green fire leering at her. She reacted, moving faster than she'd thought possible. The rifle came up and fired before the sound of the shot registered in her ears. A growing violet glow winked out. Something flopped wetly out in the crystals' revealing light.
Another new form. Not the ashen-chalk screamer, but rather more...boxy. Bulky. Still humanoid. It also had a face. A grinning, gaping, three-eyed skull set in a near pyramidal shape of pebbled, dark orange hide. The rest of it was waxy bone where it was not plated by more hide. The end of one arm looked like a hand had swollen, melted, and run together into a vaguely cylindrical blob. There was a hole in the end, a scorched depression that reminded her of the rifle's barrel. Had this new form had enough intelligence to use a weapon, only to have that weapon explode? It was possible, but Taylor couldn't think of a weapon whose self-destruction would cause a hand to melt in such a way.
Maybe it was jumping to conclusions, but she was fairly certain that it was intended to be that way. So..some kind of in-built weapon? It made sense. Keep the more advanced forms closer to the center of the...what had Lisa called it? A hive?...to keep whatever was in there safe. She paused, dropping into an alcove to stay as hidden as possible, and passed on her thoughts to Lisa who, in turn, passed them on to Director Piggot. Who took a moment to respond.
"Guardian, I have no authority to command you but I'm heavily suggesting that you get out of there and wait for reinforcements. If this creation of Nilbog is capable of creating such an advanced repurposing of a human body, there's no telling what you'll find."
"I can't leave."
"Guardian –"
"If I leave, these things are gonna follow me," she spoke with quiet certainty, knowing in her gut that she was right. "and if they get out of these tunnels, they'll vanish. We'll get them eventually, but how many people would die in the meantime?"
"You're risking your life on this supposition."
"I know, Director. But I'm not wrong. If I leave now, this whole things gets so much worse."
Director Piggot's voice filled with something like resignation. "I can't stay on the line any longer, I have to coordinate your reinforcements, but Guardian? Don't die. Piggot out."
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The tunnel opened up ahead. A vast, pulsing cluster of bone-pale crystals hung from the ceiling, illuminating a massive, flat cavern. The walls and ceiling were scraped smooth, claw scrapes marking that it had been dug, but they were so much larger than the ones on the tunnels. Something else had dug this room. Something...bigger. The floor was a landscape of hills and valleys, no deeper or higher than her ankles. She knew there was nothing in them, the overhead light made for little shadows to be found. She avoided them anyway and chose each step with care. Seven tunnels branched off from this place, counting the one she came from. Something flickered in the center, flashing its reflection, and she made her way toward it.
What was it?
It was in the middle. Almost exactly in the middle. It seemed strangely inorganic for something dropped.
But not, Taylor supposed, for something placed.
Something like bait.
Howling exploded from the tunnels, such a thunderous cacophony to have an almost physical impact. A wall of infernal noise crashing into Taylor's chest. She dropped into a crouch, bringing her rifle up, and turned on her heel. She didn't jerk her aim from tunnel to tunnel, no. Her circuit was smooth and fast. She trusted her balance and it did not fail her. She cleared four tunnels before the screamers – as she had named the pale monsters – flooded out of six of the seven tunnels. Dozens of them, all but tumbling over each other in their haste to reach her and tear her to pieces. It wasn't a mindless charge, they were spreading out, trying to cut off any chance she had of escape. The difference in behavior startled her, but not enough to prevent her from turning on her heel and sprinting for the tunnel she'd come from.
Why? Simple. In an open room, they'd surround and bring her down. Their overwhelming numbers would work in their favor. Since she had a vested interest in being alive and killing these motherfuckers, that was unacceptable. So she would change the place of the fight, force them to condense, to limit to the amount that could attack her at any one time. To make their numbers work in her favor. She dropped into a slide as she reached the tunnel mouth, stopping and turning in a crouch to deliver her first salvo. The rifle bellowed a sulfurous war-cry and screamers started dying. There were so many, though, so incredibly many, that the ones behind merely trampled the dead and dying and pushed onward.
So she fired faster, as fast as the gun's mechanics would allow. In two seconds the screamers had covered half of the distance between her and them and she'd emptied the magazine. Loading a fresh one cost her another third of space. She cursed herself for being slow even as she knew she couldn't have done that any faster and began shooting again, aiming for knees and spines, hoping to bog the horde down and give herself more time. It didn't work, and it wasn't until she saw flashes of purple light that she realized why.
There were more than screamers in the cavern. The one-arms were behind them, impelling them forward. Were the screamers encouraged by the presence, or frightened by it? Did it matter? They came on. Taylor emptied the magazine as fast as she could. The distance was closing. She wouldn't have enough time to load her last one.
The rifle's chamber locked open. Empty. The screamer horde was less than twenty feet away. She dropped the gun and reached out an empty hand. Voidlight flooded through her arm, her bow forming a violet crescent in her palm. It had slowed Swamp Thing. She drew an arrow from the void, leaped backwards, set it to string, and fired in midair.
As she landed, her bow winked out. Her knife and pistol were in hand. The blade flickered, a blue spark traveling the length of its edge before igniting with a crack-boom of lightning. At the same time, the hammer went back on her pistol, the heavy, heated potential of it in her hand. The fury of a sun, waiting to be unleashed.
Taylor bared her teeth. And charged.
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They never stood a chance. With blade and bullet Taylor carved the charging screamers into a drifting nebula of ash. The cavern's pale light glinted of the individual motes, contrasting with splashes of violet fire washing over and scorching the stone walls. She didn't stop moving, dropping into a slide underneath a volley before the ball of her foot caught the lip of a valley in the floor. Capitalizing on the change in her momentum, she tumbled head over heels to her feet and shot two of the screamers in the topmost of their triangle of eyes. As she ran on an arc of empty brass shells flew out in her wake. She slammed a speed loader in and flicked the wheel back into place. The far end of the cavern loomed and she ran a quartet of steps up it. At the very last step, with only the tips of her toes still touching the stone, she flipped over backwards.
Upside down, she saw the shooters re position themselves, spreading out in yet another display of disturbing intelligence. Their arms began to glow and pores along the side began to vent purple-tinted steam. She continued her flip, landing in a crouch as plasma flashed over her head, scorching the rock to a wavering red. She turned and threw herself forward, rising into a sprint as she emptied her pistol taking out another six.
Twelve remained. Eight of them had just shot at her, and it would take them a few seconds to get another shot ready. Which meant she had four shots to dodge in the distance remaining. Any one of which could turn her to a smoking wreck.
If they hit her.
They wouldn't.
Quickstep forward and to the left, a low-altitude leap that carried her forward.
Pirouette to the right. The shot singed the ends of her cloak and roused a fresh burst of anger at the sight.
The third shot missed. No effort required.
That fourth shot...that one caught her by surprise. Why? It anticipated her movement, aiming not where she was, but where she was going to be. The fire hit her right arm, washing its lethal heat over her. She dropped, throwing herself to the ground and waiting for the crippling sizzle of pain to wash over her. It didn't. Somehow, a burst of plasma hot enough to melt rock had hit her costume and done nothing.
While her brain was occupied with thoughts of what the fuck her body had not forgotten she was fighting for her life and rolled to her feet. Within arms reach of the remaining shooters. Her knife flashed. Her pistol clubbed. She danced, and they died.
Then it was done. Silence fell in the cavern. Taylor breathed in, held it, and let it out.
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Her pistol was dirty. Pieces of gray flesh and orange hide were glued to the metal by the taffy-sticky black ichor these monsters used as blood. The entire thing was gummed to the point of uselessness, and she had no way of cleaning it. Frustration mounted as she went back to where she'd dropped the rifle, thinking at least it might be useful. She found it rather farther back than she remembered leaving it. By contrast, it was clean. Dinged, with scrapes along it from where it had been kicked around, but usable. Her pistol went back into its holster, and she slid the last magazine into the rifle. At that point she remembered what had allowed her to be ambushed in the first place. Or rather, what had drawn her into the ambush; that little shiny whatever.
So she went looking for it, combing the cavern floor for a hint of where it had ended up after the fight. It took a bit, but she found it hidden beneath the lip of a small cave scooped into the floor. A necklace, chain snapped as if violently torn from its wearer. It looked like silver, but the wear on the parts that rubbed together had revealed a darker, probably-not metal beneath. There was a medallion still on the chain, about the size of a half-dollar coin. More faux-silver, with knot-work engraving along the outer edge. In the middle, an inscription:
For Susan
From Aaron
There was more, a note or a dedication, but time and friction had smoothed it to illegibility. She found a seam with the tips of her fingers, and a delicate hinge not long after. Which meant it wasn't a necklace, but a locket. Inside were, presumably, pictures. Maybe of a smiling couple, maybe of Susan and her dog, or maybe of a mother and her son. She ran the pad of her index finger over the button, weighing the decision to open it. The odds were good that, whoever was in there had been turned into a monster and had just tried to kill her. Susan or Aaron, they were long gone, and all seeing their faces would do was bring her pain and the lingering notion that she had not only failed to protect them in the first place but then killed the creatures they'd become.
Make a decision , she told herself, every second you wait is a chance for another attack. A minute passed, and then two. Taylor rose from her couch and slid the locket into one of her vest pouches. Later, she promised. She lifted the rifle again, sniffed deeply at the stale, cool air, and followed the stench.
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Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone