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Hell is always the same until it isn't. Case in point: amidst the normal screams of the damned and rivers of fire and blood, amidst the floating islands and lightning storms and mountains upon mountains of screeching demons all running towards him as though that were not the quickest way for their lives to end rather than continue, something didn't belong.
There was an angel in Hell sitting forlornly on one of the afore-mentioned floating islands, and this one wasn't a Maykr.
Well. He was pretty sure that it wasn't a Maykr, since it looked like a human in a trench coat with somewhat more literal wings than the Maykrs usually opted for, and they would never willingly submit themselves to looking like beings they considered beneath them if they could help it. Either way, he was getting its attention with a warning shot.
A half-second to aim later and a pulse rifle round whizzed harmlessly by the angel's head just a few inches shy of meeting the mark.
The angel reacted immediately.
When he was met with half-fearful flailing and general confusion at the sudden grazing bolt instead of immediate counter-attack and a screech of fury, only then did the Nameless Marine begin making his way towards the angel. If it hadn't tried to kill him yet, then it wasn't a Maykr. And if it wasn't a Maykr—
Well. It wasn't automatically a friend; there's only one being in all of Hell that could claim that honor, and he was here by choice. But that didn't mean the angel was automatically an enemy either.
He made his way up the twisted landscape of Hell's internal structures slowly and methodically, more than fully aware what the cost of a missed jump or ill-supporting handhold was as the rivers of fire and blood continued to rage below them. It was a roundabout circuit up to where the angel was; it almost reminded the Nameless Marine of recreational rock climbing in a way. The best path forward could often not be the most direct one.
On one such jump from platform to platform he was at just the right angle to catch the angel looking at him with what would be a confused expression on a human. How interesting.
His heavily armored feet finally landed on the platform housing the angel, and the look on its face was definitely one of confusion. Confusion, and suspicion.
"You shot at me," the angel said flatly.
He did. It's a sensible thing to do in Hell, shooting at new things you don't understand. Especially for one such as him where those things almost always tried to kill him.
The angel wasn't entirely removed from that category just yet, which is why the Nameless Marine would be holding on to his weapon for whatever discussion would be taking place here.
"Who exactly are you," the angel asked, having evidently cottoned on to the fact that it would need to be doing most of the talking here, "And what are you doing in Hell? You don't appear to be damned."
No, he was. Just in an unconventional way.
But shit, if that was on the table then this was definitely not a Maykr. Every single on of them knew who and what he was.
Which begged the uncomfortable question of what exactly this angel was, and where it was from if it didn't.
The Nameless Marine lowered (but did not put away) his gun, bringing a hand free to rest in the air at about chest-level. He studied the angel's eyes to make sure it was looking at his hand.
He made a fist, swiped his thumb across his index and middle fingers, and brought both his thumb and his index finger out in an L-shape in three swift motions.
A-S-L?
The angel's brows raised. Interest and curiosity, if it continued to emote as humans did.
"I am familiar with American Sign Language, yes," it admitted.
How convenient.
Why you here why, he signed again, uncaring of the poor etiquette in keeping his helmet on. Etiquette meant nothing in Hell. If the angel was truly so bothered, it would likely be more bothered by the gun.
Its face became impassive, but its wings lowered and shuffled awkwardly. He was not going to pretend he knew exactly what that meant, but he was willing to guess the angel was displeased by the question.
He wasn't willing to go so far as to say 'saddened' just yet, though.
The angel brought its tan-coated arms together over its chest, looking downwards at the floating earth beneath them. "I made a deal with a demon to save De—"
It cut off abruptly. Closed its eyes. Took a deep breath.
"To save the man I love from a fate worse than that I endure now," it finished.
The Nameless Marine found his own brows raising. Love was not a thing people spoke of in Hell.
Love was not a thing people spoke of at all in his presence, as a matter of fact.
He tapped a heavily armored boot against the floating earth to catch the angel's attention once more and brought the hand holding his gun up, mildly annoyed that one of the signs he needed could not be made with just one hand unless he wanted to resort to fingerspelling. And fuck fingerspelling.
Here after up till now?
"No," the angel replied. "I was granted time with him, afterwards. The demon wanted to ensnare me at my moment of greatest joy so that he could then submit me to the greatest of agonies."
Yeah that sounds like demons. The wages of treachery are suffering, and all that.
He brought the gun up once more. Two signs needed that hand this time. What bring here?
The angel gave him a smile. Its arms tightened around its chest almost defensively, and its eyes looked unusually moist for the arid and inflamed air of Hell.
"I told the man I loved that I loved him," it said.
Well that was just tragic. And perhaps, more importantly, the final nail in the coffin that this was not a Maykr.
Maykrs didn't love anything but power and their Father.
I kill them? He offered.
"No!" the angel shouted, wings splayed out instantly behind it and a sudden fury in its eyes. "Absolutely not. I will not allow you or anyone else to bring them harm."
He imagined such a display probably would've been frightening to a lesser man. Or at the very least something that would prompt a man to take a step backwards.
Unfortunately for the angel, there was nothing that could scare him anymore.
Not love, The Nameless Marine amended. This wasn't a proper sign, but transitioning from love to the devil horns of his old metalhead days was a much more understandable movement. His wrist bent a few times to emphasize the new sign.
The angel seemed to falter. Its wings curled inwards a third of the way, and the expression of human fury on its oddly human face died down somewhat.
"You could kill a demon," it said flatly.
The Nameless Marine nodded. He had killed entire planet's worth of demons before, and would continue to do so until either there were no more demons, or there was no more him.
The angel reared back slowly, as if to take all of him in. As if it hadn't done so the moment he'd stepped on its rock. Curious.
"...Not that I am doubting your ability," the angel said, clearly doubting his ability, "But this is not some commonplace monstrosity. My deal was made with a demon strong enough to rule its own plane of Hell—the one that you and I find ourselves in right now. It would not be a simple thing to kill such a demon."
For one brief moment, he allowed his vision to stray from the angel. He allowed himself to trust in his own reflexes (and the gun in his hand) to destroy the angel if it decided to capitalize on his shifted priorities.
Off in the distance, there was a titan lumbering in the rivers of fire and blood, screaming eternally as the flesh on its legs was rendered and burned, carrying an island on its humongous back.
He switched his pulse rifle for something stronger. The BFG 9000 emerged from subspace with neither fanfare nor flourish, and was fired after only three seconds of aiming.
He, and the angel, proceeded to wait.
The screaming stopped abruptly as the great green round met its target—right through the titan's eye and into its brain. He watched it spasm and die in the distance. A perfect shot.
Fucking noscoped, bitch.
The angel stared at the great demon falling fullbodied into the flaming rivers beneath its massive feet with an expression on its human face that the Nameless Marine couldn't quite place. Sure, the titan would undoubtedly revive within a few minutes without a crucible blade to pin it down, and his still needed reforging, but the point had been made. He could absolutely kill such a demon.
He's done so before.
One of the angel's wings shifted. It appeared to be thinking.
"...And even if you kill him, where do you propose I go afterwards?" it said, slowly, carefully, eventually.
The Nameless Marine simply pointed upwards.
The angel smiled.