#[BURSTS INTO TEARS] grimlock would be a GREAT name for a dog.......... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twitchesandstitches · 5 years

Text

Boys Night at The Hellscape

Steven Universe, Equius Zahhak, Grimlock, and a traveler named Riddle who often comes along with the Fleet attempt to have a boy’s night out but wound up in a hellscape, where it seems an army of fiends wants to fight them!

Steven wants to talk; Grimlock wants to murder the shit of out the fiends for giggles; Riddle is just so done with all this, and Equius is doing his best to keep these ruffians sensible. And there’s the minor problem that Molog Bal, Daedric Prince of Schemes and Domination, apparently has a vendetta against the Fleet, but that is a Later Problem.

(Riddle is an OC from a friend of mine that I’ve been meaning to do something with, for a bit.)

The sky was no sky at all, a flat shade of… the eye hurt, trying to look at it, because there was no sky, but mountains twisting up and continuing, at such a horrifyingly vast scale that it occupied the trillions of miles that would have filled the sky. Clouds of acid dripped their sulfuric rain down and melted the unwary horrors beyond, rivers of vitriolic fluid sluicing down.

The ground, the mountains, and everything else looked disgusting. Grimlock reached down and pinched a bit of it, rubbing it between his metal claws. It made a red smear, stinking a familiar coppery scent. “Blood,” he said. “It’s all blood.”

Steven Universe, a huge and rather feral man built on the same broad lines as his infamously imposing mother, made a fade. Considering that he was over eight feet tall, packed more mass than you found in a group of humans, and had a mouthful of recursive tusk/fangs, it was strange how cute the expression was. “Oh boy, that’s nasty.” he leaned down and sniffed it, looking sick and irritated at once. He pinched at a rock, which came apart into little bits, and he spat into his hand, mixing up the gravel… and blood streamed out. He wiped it away. “Ugh, it, it feels wrong.”

“Blood of the damned,” said the third of their party, a man named Riddle. Of average size, a chunky pear-shaped body and a distinct resemblance to a famous wizard tyrant (though lacking his serpentine features), he wore a complicated battle harness that resembled a fancy spandex suit. Compared to the others, he looked deceptively small. “Blood of the damned. The entire plane is made out of all the blood shed by evil plans ever since time began. Rivers of the stuff, flowing here in some… weird, metaphysical way. And it makes more world.”

The fourth of their group, and the last, studied it pensievely. He was a troll, and thus a little over forty feet tall, standing tall on digitigrade legs he had modified to look like hooves. Cybernetic implants ran all over his body, and his arms (big even on his massive, hyper-masculine build) were entirely robotic hydraulic wonders. He was Equius Zahhak, rumored descended of an ancient troll known in folklore as the Blue Arrow, and he had been the designated ‘sensible person’ of this little field trip.

It was custom amid the Fleet for at least one person to do their best to try to be a rationally-minded and logical sort, just to rein in the impulsive behavior and frenzies of berserker-ness that permeated the average Fleet child. Equius was content in this role.

“That portal,” he said solemnly, “Should not have sent us here.”

“Nope,” Riddle said. Equius gave him a somewhat wary look, thinking about how he tended to just turn up as a passenger for a bit. Frequently. He was often seen in the company of Miss Wicke, a senior scientist and Pokemon caretaker and one of the Fleet’s strongest mothers, and he was likely the father of many of her children. They seemed to keep it more or less private.

Riddle was a mystery. He turned up now and then, with unusual powers quite unprecedented in the Fleet or among any they had encountered, coming with them for a time. And then he would leave. In the chaotic nature of the Fleet this sort of thing happened a lot, but usually not with passengers living among them; they came for festivals or hitching a ride, and settled down or went on their way.

He was, in short, apparently very well named. Equius distrusted him, in a polite and respectful way, but then he distrusted almost everyone that wasn’t from the Fleet. He saw himself in pretty much the same role as the Big Daddy creatures they had liberated from the Miscella core world; protectors and guardians, and he kept a keen eye on all potential uncertainties.

Steven was less encumbered by fears and he extended to pretty much everyone a universal love and acceptance that was a Fleet model of behavior; everyone strived to be as perfectly nice and kind as him. His continuing dislike of this place was pretty obvious. “Um, I don’t mean to say a swear but… we’re in Hell. Aren’t we.”

Grimlock glanced up. Flying above them were vast reptilian things like serpents but, instead of scales, faces sewn into their sides screamed endlessly, weeping tears that fell from their sides in a stream of a noxious fluid, best not to speculate on what it was. Various winged figures flew, not dissimilar to many bipedal reptilians but somehow… wrong, as if putting on their form could not hide the fundamental horror of their nature. Various parts of the ground liquified into rivers of blood that was also burningly hot, so hot it should have boiled but was magically preserved into a kind of lava. In the distance there were buildings of black metal and spikes, upon which were impaled people being tortured in terrible ways for their great sins in life… and vast war machines, powered by the toils of the damned, moved onwards to a background noise rumbling low and deep.

It sounded like screaming. So many voices screaming together it reached a thousand pitches so low it was a pressure more than a sound.

“Yup,” Grimlock said. “Definitely Hell. Well. A Hell. Dunno about there being a single one.”

Riddle gave him a look. “How do you know that?”

Grimlock returned the look. For a robot who was infamous for his emotional outbursts, assuming he wasn’t just faking them on the spot, he could do a really good enigmatic expression. “How do you know more than they do?”

“I’ve been around. I’ve heard stuff. You?”

Grimlock indicated the land as some awful frog/dog hybrid burst out of the ground, jaws wide and filled with hooks. He grabbed it and twisted its head off without even looking, and set the body on fire with a arm-mounted flamethrower. “Did a few stints with the Dinobots in a few places like this. We got real lost and stuck and just had a fun ol’ time beating the scrap out of every damn thing in sight. That’s a pun, by the way. Damn, and they’re the damned… eh, whatever.” he paused, lost in memories. “Happened a few more times, and then we stayed on purpose, killing all the fiends we could, working our way up to gutting an evil murder god or something. Be a good trophy. Heh… like to see Pearl manage that.”

Steven frowned. “Don’t talk mean about my sword mom.”

“Yeah, okay. Point is, they sealed us up for a few hundred years until we busted loose and got right back to killing. That was fun!” Grimlock joyfully snarled out a plume of flame, thrilled by these memories of righteous slaughter. “So… freeing! Fighting literal embodiments of pure evil! Monsters without pity, or remorse, that deserve none! Actual evil incarnate! No second thoughts, no worry about the moral implications, just ripping apart things that deserve to die. It’s real freeing fighting something like that.”

Equius nodded. “I suppose I can imagine the appeal.”

Riddle grimaced. “ Every time I hang out with you, Grims, you wind up getting nostalgic over murder or something. Don’t you have non-stabbing hobbies?”

“Well, I run a scrap heap art show back on the Fleet,” Grimlock noted. “But that’s not too cinematic.”

Steven, alone, looked to the hellscape beyond, including the pseudo sky. “Something big is coming,” he said, looking queasy. “I don’t… guys, this feels wrong.”

Grimlock sidled in front on hm in a wholly protective and unconscious way. “Stick with me, kid. You stay tanky, I’ll keep the rest of you safe.”

Riddle scowled. “I can fight fine, too.”

“Prove it, meaty!” Grimlock laughed, positively daring him to respond in kind.

Equius sighed. “Can we please stow the bravado-”

“NEVER.”

“-Something is coming!”

A great cloud of rotten dust came up as approximately two thousand feet came marching up, and they squinted at the mass slowly approaching them.

Fiends. ‘Demon’ was a bit of a generalist term these days, often referring to any supernatural being that was broadly humanoid, had a combination of horns or tail or wings, but it didn’t quite refer to evil creatures anymore. Demon was a general description. Fiend was more suitable for describing things that were, quite simply, elemental beings of concentrated evil in the same way that frost giants were elemental cold. They were wickedness, malice and the pleasure of hurting people given a voice and will.

They came now, a huge army that was organized reasonably well, if along old-fashioned paths. At the front were the smallest ones, twenty-foot high beasts suited towards speed, carrying supernatural analogues to firearms fused to their forearms and extended carapaces on the other that served as shields.

Behind them were the dedicated long-range fighters; monsters that were mostly gun or cannon, their jaws gaping and shoveling up all the blood-stone they could get, digesting it into ammunition. Others resembled bows, twisting themselves into gruesome shapes so that imps could slot in arrows over twenty feet long and thick as trees.

Close range fighters, riding dreadful flesh-eating monsters and ready to ride in and leap upon the foe: bloodthirsters, fiends hungry for the thrill of battle and emaciated with the bloodlust. Larger creatures, and at their feet moved the more mobile fiends and those serving all the other purposes of warfare, and these grew progressively bigger, living siege engines and equals to mortal machine-titans, growing bigger and bigger until the largest towered over the entire army, roaring defiance at them.

The army stopped, staring at them.

Shortly thereafter, a tall and spiky fiend that seemed to be mostly folded tendons in elaborate armor, and a sword as big as he was, rode up on something that looked kind of like a horse but mostly like a mix-and-match of various deadly creatures. “Good day, mortals,” it said cheerfully.

“Um,” Steven said, perhaps surprised to see a talkative fiend. “Hello.”

“Don’t talk to the fiend!” Riddle hissed, nudging the much larger man. “What if it enspells you!?”

“I know but… I’m not going to be rude!”

“I am a fiend,” the speaker stated, apparently interested by this debate. “Who cares about my feelings? I don’t even have any. I just assume the appearance of them for interaction purposes.”

“Okay but that’s still no reason to be rude.”

“Bored now,” Grimlock said. “Gonna kill it now.”

“Please, wait!” Equius snapped.

“I gotta. He’s just too annoying to live.”

“Let him say his piece, please?”

“Oh, fine…”

The fiend cleared its throat, dislodging a few gross bits. “I speak on my behalf, the great and mighty Daedric Lord; he who is the Lord of Schemes, Architect of Domination. This realm has, happily, fallen to his conquests and, aha, perhaps so shall you. I suppose you are wondering how you arrived here when, no doubt, your portal excursion was to bring you somewhere more palatable to your tastes?”

Riddle’s mouth opened. “How do you know- oh. Oooooh. You messed with our portal, didn’t you!?”

Grimlock growled, a primordial noise out of nightmare that made them all feel extremely uncomfortable. Even the fiend looked uncharacteristically concerned. “Ah. Well… it was naughty of me, but my lord greatly wished to test his powers against your own! For you see…” He wiggled a finger at them, scoldingly. “Your mother fleet has done much to frustrate his plans!”

“Okay…?” Steven said, warily.

“Going about all the multiverse, interrupting tyrants in their plans to dominate. Interfering in ancient schemes without even meaning to! Blundering right into planets and upsetting careful plots by liberating the populace and then breeding with every single sapient species, and making new ones on the spot! To say nothing of all this dreadful liberty coming across from you introducing new technologies into places that were being perfectly miserable and isolated without them.” It sighed. “I expect the Enemies in the Upper Planes are quite pleased with your lot but… really. This is just bad manners!”

“I hate this guy a lot,” Grimlock said flatly. “I’m going to step on him now.”

Riddle, however, looked thoughtful, as if remembering a report he had seen somewhere. “...Recently conquered a realm… Lord of schemes and domination… oh, shit. You’re working for Molag Bal!”

The fiend looked impressed. “Oho, you caught that one right away.”

“Who?” Steven said.

Grimlock looked surprised. “Don’t tell him anything!” He hissed to Riddle. To Steven, he said, “You’re better off not knowing!”

But the fiend continued. “You see, my lord wishes to match his military might against the power of you four. After all, against one of the last knights of Cybertron-” He indicated Grimlock. “A walking tank boasting impenetrable defense-” This was said to Steven. “A fascinating anomaly such as yourself,” This was to Riddle. “And of course, a blueblood troll with ample boosts to his strength, and gear to accommodate it! Why, this should be a most entertaining diversion for you, yes?”

“Flattering me won’t save you from ending up dead,” Grimlock said indifferently.

Equius sighed. “Then, you will attack no matter what we say. And I expect we cannot leave, one way or another, until this is done.”

“But of course. And you did intend on having a… what’s the term… boy’s night out, yes?”

“...Right. Okay.” Equius drew from his belt a pair of gauntlets that interlocked into his arms. Quad shotgun barrels extended out from each knuckle and loaded up with trick ammunition and projectile gadgets, while the forearms deployed mechanical repeater crossbow arms. The punches stored up energy, the crossbows released it into his very finest shots. “Not at all what we had in mind, but I see no alternative.”

Steven grimaced, his arm swelled up and in a flash of light, producing a curiously organic-looking pink shield, it’s face adorned with the image of a lion. “No one ever just wants to talk things out!”

Grimlock drew from his body an integrated sword as massive as he was tall, its appearance volcanic, it’s black blade bursting into flame as his heroic spirit flooded into it. The Blade of Simfur itself, said to have been wielded by the chimeric machine-god Onyx Prime, passed down through the line of kings of Simfur. “You really think you can talk to fiends.”

“I have to try. No matter how hopeless it seems.”

“...Heh. I gotta like someone that’s ridiculously brave.”

Riddle spread his arms, and magical mandalas materialized around his arm, absurdly complex and ready to summon forth the spells of his choosing. They flickered red, trying to tap into the energies of the multiverse and having to make do with the essence of this hellrealm; he looked queasy and disturbed feeling it flow through him.

The fiend raised his weapon, and brought it down on Steven. “Then let the game commence!”

The sword broke against his shield, in a massive shockwave that knocked him off his steed. Steven sighed and jumped up, and laid a hand against the fiend. Then he grabbed and somehow threw it straight off the ground, into the air, and Grimlock’s fist slammed into the ground while meeting the fiend in route.

Grimlock’s punches were entirely capable of smashing through mountains and planetary cores. The fiend was reduced to a bloody smear. “‘Bout damn time,” Grimlock grunted.

And that was the signal agreed about earlier, unknown to them, and the two thousand fiends charged, in orderly fashion, and the four heroes charged to meet them.

It really wasn’t fair to the fiends, of course, but when you dealt with people who benefited from the powers of the Endowed Fleet, what could you do?

3 notes · View notes