Slay the Hierarchy

Whatever It Takes

Getting sucked and thrown through portals wasn't exactly his definition of fun.

Especially if that portal took him somewhere worlds away from his mission; an agitating and fresh memory even after eighteen years. Maybe even nineteen. He lost count of his birthdays at this point.

What the Doom Slayer didn't expect, though, was that it would take him someplace familiar. And boy, familiar how.

The Slayer stared out at the thick, grey-green clouds from under one of the plenty concrete, dome-like protrusions the civilisation was known for. The spine-like rooftops, the rotunda structures, the impossible height of them... it was without a doubt. He was back on Argent D'Nur. Taras Nabad, specifically, judging by the backdrop of a soundless, desolate city shrouded in mist.

The crack of thunder roused Daisy; the princess still in his arms the way in which they'd departed Earth; and he inspected her, staring sombrely at the cold sweat on her skin, her shallow but laboured breathing. The young woman was in dire straits. Unattended with wounds like that, she would possibly last a day at best. The thought made his jaw clench with frustration.

Food. Water. Medicine. He needed supplies if he could ever hope to sustain her beyond that.

On second thought, where was Vega when he needed his protocol briefing?

'The reasons... for my func... tionality on this pla... net are un... determined, but it is... 'good' to... be back,' came the AI's jittering voice as if on cue, and the Slayer huffed with approval at his comeback. 'Scanning and... running diagnostics.'

A couple more seconds of allowing Vega to scrutinise the state of the princess, and he spoke again; this time sounding as clear and concise as usual.

'I detect a rise in core body temperature of 1.3 degrees Celsius. Serious compression injures dealt to the left and right biceps. The right ulna and radius shows signs of being shattered. Two fingers on the left and three on the right hand fractured. The right and left forearms have suffered severe muscle and tendon ruptures.

'I suggest immediate surgical removal of the right arm from the elbow down for the princess to recover at a stable rate. However, sutures and splints will be required for the remaining injuries.'

The words were like an iron fist to the gut. Amputation? What the hell had they done to her? The more he thought about it, the more he saw red. Daisy's pressing condition was the only anchor to his senses in that moment.

Despite that, the Slayer knew that wasn't the end of the bad news. Tearing open her shirt by the buttons, he allowed Vega a moment to scan the odd punctures here and there in the skin; trails of sticky blood accompanying them.

'Wounds to the body appear to be surface and muscle ruptures. I suggest immediate disinfection and surgical sutures to the inflicted areas to allow for a stable recovery.'

It should have been, but the reality was that her smaller wounds were no consolation to the Slayer. His eyes inadvertently trailed the patches of skin that weren't inflamed, scowling at the faint remnant of scars. They were old, but certainly there. Signs that something similar had happened to the princess in the past.

'My scanners are having difficulty detecting the materials required,' said Vega as the Slayer carefully draped the halves of her shirt over her again. He only regretted having nothing else to cover the noblewoman with. 'I'm afraid my capabilities are greatly restricted in this area.'

Not that it was any surprise. With one last glance at the unconscious princess, the Slayer turned, staring out at the ghostly remains of what was once a thriving civilisation. Well, all things considered, he could have wound up somewhere worse. Somewhere he'd never been before...