Work Text:
Her father had grown up in the midst of civil war. She used to sit on his lap as he told stories of his childhood, of the Blood Red Dogs, of the Voodoopunks, and of how all would have been lost if not for the singing of one girl. The two of them used to stay out late, her father telling stories as they stared up at the stars.
Yes, Mary had grown up listening to the stories of New Albion, and more importantly, stories of the Voodoopunks. It was no surprise, then, when she got a job with Arcadia Corps. It was there that she met her husband, Henry, a fellow Voodoopunk, though not as devout as Mary. When Arcadia Corps announced that they had created a portal to Elysium, the two of them jumped at the chance. They packed just enough for the two of them and their three children and got ready to board Ark 1.
It was Samuel who was the first to die. Her eldest son, now gone, chest and throat slashed open by the creatures. Yasser Latef and the Blood Red Dogs had tried to protect him, but it was too late. There was no funeral- it would have been too dangerous to try and bring the body back at that time. In the dark of night a week later, Mary returned to where her son had been killed and recovered his corpse. The family held a private ceremony, a small box containing his bones and a few relicts from his childhood dropped into a shallow grave.
Henry went next, in a vain attempt to save Louise. Her daughter would live to see another day- or night, Mary supposed, time was much different here- but Mary would never see her beloved husband again. Louise was too frightened to explain what had happened, though Mary suspected based on her daughter’s night terrors that Henry had protected her from being eaten by one of the creatures. It didn’t surprise Mary, not really; though the immigrants had assumed the creatures to be angels, they appeared much more like demons. If they happened to have a taste for human flesh, then, the humans would have to stay hidden. From then on, a strict curfew was enforced and houses were required to be windowless.
It didn’t help. Not much more than a fortnight later a creature broke into Mary’s house, screeching and thrashing about. It writhed about, knocking over tables and breaking a vase that had once belonged to Mary’s mother. Louise tossed Mary the shotgun off the wall and she shot at the creature. The bullet passed through one of its appendages and the thing shrieked. Green liquid oozed out of the hole. Three more shots bored into its body before it fell. Much to Mary’s horror, the creature had, in its flailing, torn down a section of wall, which now collapsed onto Louise. Her only daughter, now dead.
After the realization that the creatures could break into their homes, the colonists began to hold weekly meetings in order to teach its members how to defend themselves. To Mary’s dismay, her son William joined the Blood Red Dogs. It was on one of their missions a year later that he too met his end. In his excitement at the prospect of being a hero, William had gone off on his own. No one saw him get attacked, though based on the amount of blood adorning the barrier fence, as well as a detached arm, the worst was assumed. The Blood Red Dogs brought Mary his double-barreled shotgun, standard issue, and what was left of the body.
Mary devoted the rest of her life fighting against the creatures. With time, she learned to kill the creatures with two shots apiece. A pair of daggers adorned her waist, good for close combat. She slashed and hacked, watching as the thick green liquid leaked out of the wounds. A twist of her knife saw a creature’s eye removed. Before she knew it, Mary had killed eight of the creatures. She ran back to the village, dragging back the body of a young woman who had been taken by the creatures.
Her father had grown up in the midst of a civil war. It was his tales that helped Mary cope with the deaths. She sat, staring up at the blood red skies of Elysium, surrounded by what was left of the colonies. Darkness fell upon them as she recounted the stories of her father, of the Blood Red Dogs, of the Voodoopunks, and most importantly, of the girl who would one day return.