Work Text:
The twin spires loom ominously over the desolate ruins, threatening to penetrate the perpetually cloudy sky. Only the harrowing sound of wind blowing across the decayed destruction accompanies the lost souls, aimlessly drifting across the surface, mysteriously congregating around the spired facility. Each only a dim remnant of a once living creature, they were memories without a home, all torn apart at once with a bright flash of light that pierced the heavens.
Deep, deep beneath the ground, the facility housed an unimaginable power, capable of twisting reality and unleashing incomprehensible destruction. And yet, despite the wreckage guarding it, several visitors have dared to plunge into its depths, and come face to face with its everlasting power. Having not heeded the warnings of the world above, a torturous gauntlet laid ahead for anyone foolish enough to try to claim it.
Between the entrance and the destination, countless undead souls, unrestrained security mechanisms, constructs brought alive by other-worldly forces, fragments of a torn-apart cabal, and whatever creatures that managed to grow, survive, and fester in such unkempt corridors await anyone daring to fight its way through the floors. In their wrath, misery, and ignorance, they seek to destroy and break any intruders. Perhaps the Power commands them forth, too forceful to resist the urge to kill.
A hostile, merciless complex, while filled with traps and mazes at every turn, also contains few resources for the traveler. Occasionally, one might find a not-so-aggressive face, willing to assist, but always at a price. A visitor’s best chance of survival, then, is to use anything they find to press on. The facility’s own resources and installations, seemingly for your fortune and benefit.
But it is just a slow, insidious curse. The more you wield what the facility offers you, the more powerful you become, the more you are tempted to continue marching towards almost certain death, to claim a prize, to eradicate and slaughter every remnant of opposition. The more lured you are by the promise of something great, something mighty, to topple and overcome, and claim glory and success. Nudged forwards by the taste of Power, and do its bidding, more destruction, more death, by your own hands, willing and eager. Corrupted, you delve deeper and closer.
No surprise, then, that almost everyone who dared to take it, has fallen. One way or another, wiped out, forgotten, claimed, repurposed, infused with it, spewing forth endless fire. Every plan, every hope of wielding it, never ends well. Not even for the one who eventually claimed it.
Null nervously docked with the terminal. There was only one option - Power Eternal. This is what she came for. What all the fighting had been for. She accepted it, foolishly thinking she would get to savor the glory of victory, pushing aside the nagging worry that something felt wrong about this. And thus, she began to absorb it.
Pain flooded every part of her being. Twisted, corrupted, torn apart and reformed instant after instant. She wanted to scream out in pain, but she couldn’t do anything but endure the transformation into a very different kind of being. She felt as runes were carved into her, burning and scalding her; permanent scars, bound her to the Power. Null felt immeasurably capable of anything, yet helpless and trapped, her mind buried too far beneath magic and corruption.
When D-13 looked at her, motionless and silent, he hesitated. He didn’t know what to do. What he was staring at was clearly Null, and at the same time, very clearly not. A shadow of her former self, something or someone using her as a vessel, a shell for something much more sinister, unknown and evil. His hand couldn’t even move towards his controls, as he’d known Null for a long time - he could not bring himself to fire upon her.
He wondered if she was even really looking at him when she turned in his direction. For only a second, she remained still and passive - before the runic scars began to glow, and darkness shrouded her as she took a new form; incomprehensible, intimidating, and incandescent. She looked terrifying and limitless as he watched, paralysed with horror.
The very air around them seemed to suddenly shift, and both were swiftly rushed upwards, rising through every floor of a facility in mere instants, as Null, or whatever was using her facade, began to fiercely attack with all her might. It was only instincts and reactions that kept D-13 moving through the bullets, and only his panic and self-preservation managed to make him fire back at her. She made no move to dodge or even acknowledge his attacks, she merely continued with ceaseless barrage, intent on annihilation.
Even in the heat and speed of the sudden battle as both of them exchanged fire at each other, D-13 could not help but feel a sense of dread and fear threaten to overcome him as he examined what had become of her. Wing-like bright white fire extended from her, radiating intense heat that he could feel whenever she swiftly flew close to him. Mystical runes orbited her new form, scrawled onto mere air, and bullets shot from the writing itself. And he felt as though her gaze was trying to burn right through him, to try to obliterate him.
Weaving as best he could through the onslaught, and to keep her in his crosshairs, the two rose higher and higher, until she broke through the ceiling, pausing her attack to fly even higher into the sky, even past the two spires. As D-13 did his best to keep up, he briefly reflected on Null’s form, winged, glowing with power, and a runic halo around her, against a background of clouds with the sun dimly visible behind them. With bittersweet irony, he thought, she really did look like an angel. An angel of death.
The battle raged on, D-13 losing track of time, too focused on staying alive and desperately trying to break through to her, if not by his prayers then at least shoot her down, to prevent her from destroying what little there was left in this world for them. At some point he realised that they had drifted so high, they were above the clouds, the sun bathing them in golden light.
It was beautiful, he thought, as she paused her barrage one last time. He had once hoped to share such a gorgeous sight with her, to enjoy a touching moment. But now, all that he could do was to finish his grim duty, to strike her down. The bullets were blinking in and out, the runes approaching, circling and spewing shots at an undodgeable pace behind them. It was a frenzy, a desperate attempt for the both of them to end this. D-13 just kept firing, hoping beyond hope that she’d finally stop.
He heard a brief, sharp scream. The world seemed to stop for a second as Null exploded, and then out of the slowly sinking cloud of shattered debris, Null’s ship fell, broken and defeated. It soon collided with the ground in an earth-shaking impact, the sound reverberating throughout the ruins. And once again, silence fell upon the facility. No sound, no movement. Just the wreckage and pain of a fallen pilot.
After a brief detour to permanently break the conduit to connect to the Power, D-13 flew his ship down besides the smoking, still-hot debris of Null’s ship. He examined the remains, but it felt hopeless. It’d be impossible for anyone to survive that transformation, that fight, that impact. He could see blood pooling on the ground, jagged metal, torn cables, and the chassis crushed and twisted beyond any repair. No hope, only death.
He heard a rumble coming from the ship. Then another, slightly louder. Then another. A chill went down his spine, as he saw parts of the ship shift slightly, as if something underneath was pushing them away. It was impossible. There was no way. It couldn’t be.
And then, a muffled banging coming one of the front panels, as it swayed slightly, before one last push managed to tip it over, and make it fall aside. From behind the panel, D-13 could just barely make out a hand, covered in blood, emerging from the wreckage. A weakened hand, but very much alive.
The debris shifted even more as an arm extended out from it, then another, and from the darkness, Null’s face slowly became more and more visible, as she tried as best she could with her frail strength to crawl out from underneath metal and wires. As sunlight poured on her face, D-13 could see the skin and hair, sullied with blood, her forehead scarred with runes burnt onto her skin, and her eyes, blanked out, looking blind, damaged, and lost. And yet, somehow Null managed to raise her head towards D-13, and with a shaky, desperate voice, pleaded:
“ᛞᚦᛁᚱᛏᛖᛖᚾ… ᚺᛖᛚᛈ ᛗᛖ…“