The Secondary Saga

[Gamzee Makara]

I do not know what is happening. My body is not mine to control, though I know for a fact it is me controlling it. I am not where I am. The others, they are all saying words and plotting strategies, but their voices are not loud enough to rise above the din of the dead. Before I even realize what is going on, Crow and his symbiotic friend are leading a charge through a route that is clearly less populated with the undead. We are making for the woods. Even I, in my present state of mind, know that it is impossible to fully destroy all of these creatures, and that survival is the ultimate goal here, as it always has been. Still, I find it almost irresistibly tempting to open fire and unleash hell on the hordes.

This is not an option. I must tell myself that. Such fool-hardy a foolhardy action would lead only to the waves of beasts converging on our group all at once, and then ultimately to our deaths. I distract myself by holstering Boomhilda, and unlatching the staff from my back. I nervously flip an errant switch up and down, back and forth.

And then I join the charge.

I flip that very switch into an upward position, press my thumb down on a button, and then squeeze the lever style trigger on my staff. It begins to charge with a high pitched whine of electricity, the violet crystal emitting a luminous glow. It crackles with the raw, primordial energy of lightning. A strange, sickening grin returns to my lips, and I begin to laugh again, laugh as though I was having the time of my life. I soon will be.

I run to the others, catching up before we are separated. At once, scores of undead begin an assault on our retreating group. I doubt the safety of these scarred and burnt trees, but so be it. It matters little in the end, so little. By the time I reach the group, the staff has been fully charged. I unleash a two orbs of deadly static discharge twenty yards from the treeline that we were running to. They sink into the scorched earth, grounding themselves. Immediately, arcs of electricity begin shoot from the masses of energy, latching on to undead everywhere. Their sickening, dead eyes begin to glow as their weak earthly bodies are overloaded with the immeasurable power of lightning. This attack clears the area of which we are headed, and shall hopefully cover our exit. I spin the cylinders in the staff, rekindling the energy that feeds into the crystal. I point the staff at the hordes behind us, keeping our flank clear of peril. Bolts of lightning fly out at a rapid pace, vaporizing the damned blighted creatures left and right.

"I will not succumb to your sickness! ICH BIN AUCH FUCKING PISSED TO DIE! AHAHAHAHAHA!"
The smell of plasma and burning flesh is intoxicating. My laughter becomes hysterical as it floats into the sky, above the racket of the battle.

Soon we made it to the forest. It was...Less safe than it appeared. Untoten surrounded us at every step. It become a much more close-ranged battle, and as such, I decided to switch back to Boomhilda. I did as I had done earlier, keeping our flank clear of threats, at times, coming to the aid of one of my allies. It was second nature. I would hear a sound of distress, whip around in its direction, and take care of the problem via combustion of the problem's skull. The cursed woods hid so much danger. So often did fractured memories pass through my mind: rescuing an over-run Dempsey, healing a downed Nikolai, Takeo coming to my aid in a time of need.

I will go home. I will return, and fix what has been broken, seize the Aether from that brat Samantha. Omni will hear me out. I only seek to leave this wretched world, not cause him pain or trouble.

Even if I am enjoying every second of this chaos.

-----

I suck in my breath. We have finally found a main, singular path. No longer are we forced to take these winding, twisting, precarious trails. Still, even with this discovery, the dead still come out of the woodwork. So be it.

"I fear for the well-being of our group," I say to no one in particular. A smile creases my lips.

"So, who wants to be the first noble sacrifice? Eh? Eh?"

I receive some curt glares, but this, just as everything else, ceases to matter. It never did. During my steep descent to madness in the woods, I reached a realization: We're all going to die. There is simply no hope. This Omni character has no reason to speak to us lowly secondaries, much less 'grant our wishes'. We are but pawns of the pawns, the Primes. I do not even know who took the time to summon me into this world. They certainly didn't stick around, and they certainly didn't give me any answers. I'm sure I am not the only secondary in this expedition to have this dilemma. I'm also sure I am not the only one to realize that this entire charade is an exercise in futility.

We are all going to die.

Why then? Why are we putting ourselves through this hell? Why am I putting myself through this hell?

Because It's better to die having fun, of course. And gottverdammte is this fun.

In my musings, it would seem that we are about to be overrun. I had been running on auto-pilot this entire time, shooting whatever is in front of me. I've had to change clips twice now. I am down to my last fifty or so shots. Excellent. Wunderbar. VERDAMMT GUT! At least the staff still has charge left. At any rate, I hear something from Crow. A shout, a cry, a promise of hope. It would seem there are friendly faces ahead of us. My fellows yell and issue battle cries, their vigor renewed. I cannot help but laugh along with them. The game continues.

Our group begins to grow even louder and rowdier, so as to attain the attention of the others. Jan, Crow and IRIS, Grave, and even myself all shout and make as much noise as possible, trying to raise our voice higher than the clamor and screeches of the damned.

Today, our voices will be louder.

Translations:
ICH BIN AUCH = I AM TOO
Untoten = undead
gottverdammte = goddamn
VERDAMMT GUT = FUCKING GREAT!