An Anon's Journey: Remnant Act 1

V3E13: All-In, All or Nothing

Motorcycles have always been Hope's favourite way to travel. The feeling of the wind rushing by his ears, of his hair flowing in the current and just the badass factor of a really cool bike. He used to ride one, long ago when life wasn't as complicated and morbidly depressing. Just for a moment, he went back to those more carefree and exciting days. Of daring escapes from rival Shaderunners and people Hope had no business pissing off.

He also went back to those times when he got caught and got the shit beat out of him.

It was stupid really, a trip wire attached to street lamps. A simple trap, but extremely effective. The bike flew through the air, spinning head over tail and sending Hope careening into the rough asphalt. Satan gasped as his grip slipped and became separated from He Called Hope. The devil tried to crawl but the call of Hell had rung and his time was up. The devil looked downcast as Hope lay with a pained cringe so close to him. Hope smiled despite Satan's desperate effort to resist Hell's pull.

"It's ok, Satan." He reassured. "I'll live. Please go back before reality corrects itself."

Hope looked to the skies as the blue light further dimmed. He could discern the shape of the beautiful, motherly seraph that had been looking over Vale on his demand. She too looked vexed and miserable, as her time in this world was up as well.

"You too, Zadkiel. Please don't injure yourselves for me."

The two aspects of Pride and Mercy bit their lips bitterly as tears formed in their eyes. They wanted to help him win, they wanted to remain just long enough to give him that edge. They wanted to see his righteous dream come true and help him achieve it. They wanted to help the preyed-upon people of Vale.

But such a thing would not happen. It couldn't, for they were Seraphs and Devils. The celestials of Eden, not Remnant. And as such, they would have to follow the rules of the Cosmos and depart from this alien earth and return to the land their Creator wrought.

"Thank you, beloved Zadkiel... Thank you, dear Satan... I couldn't have asked for better aid in this, our time of need!"

Satan closed his hands and balled them into trembling fists, clawing and leaving hellish marks on the pavement. He nodded as he let himself dissipate into a warm, ominous wind that smelled of brimstone. The Lady of Mercy gazed around, the land her dear Hope had sworn to save still a ruin bathed in evil and darkness. Her soft eyes watered in shame and sadness, her crystalline tears like rhinestones falling from the sky. Zadkiel's tears fell to the ground in a soft shower that covered Vale as her light finally disappeared along with her gentle form. Her tears landed on Hope, her final gift to him. He soaked in the Seraph's tears and felt his wounds close and hiss. He was still fragile and the pain didn't go away, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about opening his wounds again. Hope crawled to his knees until a rough boot pushed him in the ass and back to the floor. He heard a nasal chuckle full of bile coming from the supposed kicker.

"Looks like we caught another one, boys."

Hope sighed exasperatedly as he rolled unto his back. Four men in heavy protective hooded jackets and white masks, all armed with badly designed weapons made by people whom Hope was certain were fanatics for paste. One had giraffe stubs on his head and the tallest.

"Seriously, when will you idiot humans understand that driving in our streets is subject to taxation!"

Hope scoffed.

"Right, so that means you're finally gonna fill the potholes on the road?"

The giraffe shrugged with a shit-eating smile.

"Nah."

One of the grunts, whose lion-like mane poked out of his hood, pulled out a large skinning knife.