Two broken people from two different worlds cross paths on the Isle of Demons. Queen Maeve, an embittered and disillusioned member of The Seven searching for meaning as a hero. Tusk, the eternal watchman of the gods, tormented by immortality and a l...
WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language and mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: Killer Instinct" is a property belonging to Rareware and Microsoft while "The Boys" is a property by Garth Ennis and Dynamite Comics. I do not own these characters.
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Chapter Two: Encounters
"There are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Maeve groaned as she shifted in her sleep.
Fluttering her eyes open, she slowly sat herself up and massaged her head, then looked around at her surroundings.
From what Maeve could see, she was alone in what appeared to be a longhouse that was twenty-two meters long and five meters wide, with an odd, boat-like frame.
Lit entirely by some well-placed candles on some built-in shelves, she saw a door at the end along with a recently extinguished central hearth, while lining the walls and floors were various fur pelts.
'Where am I?' she wondered.
Looking down to her own person, Maeve found herself lying on a large, comfortable bed, her form covered by a very long and thick fur-covered blanket.
Lifting up the covers, she found herself completely nude. Raising up her eyes, Maeve scanned the room for her outfit, then stopped at the sight of them neatly folded on a shelf, her boots placed at the foot of the bed.
Grabbing the fur blanket, she wrapped herself up, making sure her body was covered as she made her way over to the shelf, picking up her clothes.
Placing on her silver head piece, Maeve had just finished getting dressed when she heard the door open nearby, causing her to frown.
"Has anyone ever told you," she turned to face the person as she adjusted her shoulder piece, intent on giving them a piece of her mind, "to...knock...?"
Maeve froze at the sight that greeted her.
Stepping through and ducking underneath the doorway was a hulking giant of a man, his head nearly scraping the ceiling.
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He was enormously tall - a towering and impressive Germanic/Nordic specimen of six-eleven that looked to be over three hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle, with huge, broad shoulders and a powerfully built frame that was rippling with strength, looking as if he were cut entirely from diamond.
