Chapter Text
“The real problem is in the hearts and minds of men. It is easier to denature plutonium than to denature the evil spirit of man.”
— Albert Einstein
Bridge of the Glitchtrap’s Might
Five Years after the Conquest of Earth.
Afton struggled to recall their faces.
Names were easier, sure. Cassidy. Henry. Michael. Those that truly wronged or made fool of William throughout his long life. Yet even with names, remembering became difficult once it came down to mewling victims of lesser status. Those who never made a difference. They lived with such insignificance; William couldn’t fathom why they’d suddenly become pertinent enough to recall.
What William most easily recollected though?
Their screams.
You see, a scream is a complete admission of defeat when bleated by a pathetic ‘Hero’. Whether a scream of rage, shock, horror, pain, etcetera. It indicates the villain has so severely bested their foe that they’ve descended into the most primal of human expressions. And thereby, they have signified their weakness. When prey in nature cries out for mother, begging and sickly, a coterie of predators are attracted to that wisp of weakness. So attractive it is for their hungering, salivating maws to devour meat so fresh and scared.
That moment of success was something irreplaceable. It was beautiful.
“Master, we’ve arrived to the world’s orbit. Shall we begin bombardment protocols?”
Inquired Black Legion Battle-Company Captain Dushcar. The visor helmeted Space Marine tentatively approached his hulking, towering master.
“No.”
William’s voice responded with that same British gravitas, though it’d been altered somewhat. A gravelly, deep growl of animalistic fervor barely concealed by an air of civility. Signs of a dark corruption which’d spread across William’s very being, intertwining into that black darkness called his soul and making him all the stronger for it.
“Lord? A bombardment would remove the need for ground intervention. Our vessel’s cannons are capable of eight-hundred yard blasts-“
“I want to savor the looks of terror embellished upon my foe as I carve through their rank. Nothing grants me greater joy, Captain Dushcar.”
“As you wish, Lord. Shall I inform Zargothrax and All For One of these changes?”
“They’re already quite aware of my preferences. Honestly Dushcar, I’d have assumed you would’ve caught on by now.”
“F-forgive me for such slights Master. I won’t repeat the same mistake again. Ground invasions unless expressly ordered otherwise.”
“Very good. Have our allies surface-wise made the necessary preparations?”
“Aye Lord. The Newtopian Empire eagerly awaits your arrival. The tactical information they’ve shared with us has been most crucial.”
“They only provided the blueprints. We built the design of victory here. What report from my spies inside the Amphibian Resistance?”
“Our reports indicate they’ve united the three dominant species of their various continents into a singular, united fighting force; apparently under the charismatic leadership of a… teenage girl, My Lord. Two- in fact.”
William growled irritably. Children, always so impertinent.
“Rouse the other battle-captains and lieutenants. This shouldn’t take long.”
“As you bid.”
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Wartwood Underground Resistance Base – Amphibia
Before the war, Wartwood Swamp was just another froggy backwater of Amphibia. While not particularly instrumental within the worldly realm of political affairs and socioeconomic policymaking, the country bumpkin natives were pleased with their humble lot in life; as farmers and wacky weirdos under the stewardship of a corrupt, yet ultimately lovable Mayor.
Now? They were pressed into a battle for their very lives.
Hopediah Plantar never expected that at such an old age, he’d play a crucial role in a war that’d decide the fate of Amphibia thereafter. It’d certainly been a contrast from that initial, star-studded dream of being a famous actor.
“Hop-Pop?”
“What is it Polly? Did Loggle annoy you about making another wooden sculpture of his again!? I swear just because that fool’s become jacked he thinks he can order everyone around! Well NOT my grandbaby. No, NOT my babygirl-“
“It’s not that! I was just, uh… wondering when Anne would get back. And Sprig. I mean, not that I’m worried or anything. I wanted to go with them! I can help Hop-Pop! Let me kick some Frobot BUTT! Well, not OUR Frobo, obviously. Y’know what I mean.”
Hopediah couldn’t help but laugh at his granddaughter’s rambunctious nature. It sometimes provided no end of issues, but ultimately, he couldn’t imagine Polly without her fire that illuminated even his darkest moments.
“Don’t worry babygirl. They’ll return soon enough! We’ve just gotta have faith in ‘em. And I’m sure Sasha’s considering you for the next mission already!”
“You think so?”
“Heck, why not ask her? All we’ve been doing this morning is eating stale worm-rations anyway.”
“You got that right. I could go FOREVER without eating these things again. Eugh.”
Polly stuck her tongue out to display disapproval of the paltry rations the Resistance managed to scrounge together. Hop-Pop nodded and walked through the underground base, converted from the Plantar Family’s secret trove of treasures, secrets, and commemorations regarding their familial lineage. Frogs, toads, and newts of every class and distinction were mulling about, moving caches of weapons, or making small-talk amongst each other or training for battle against thatch-strewn Frobot dummies.
Finding Sasha didn’t take long. She posited herself wherever the activity was, and currently, she was coordinating battle-plans over a wooden table within the shelter’s midst. A geographical map of Amphibia was strewn over a rustic wooden table, a series of frog, newt, and toad dignitaries and persons of interest carefully observing it- a grouping of sculpted figures provided by Loggle acting as stand-ins for their respective species’ armies and certain poignant individuals.
“Sasha!”
“And if Captain Beatrix’s battalion could uppercut the forest patrols while they’re distracted from a frontal assault by Tritonio’s crew, we’ll be able to eradicate King Andrias’s largest battlegroup- Hop-Pop? What’re you doing here?”
Sasha seemed temporarily thrown off her balance, though a series of approved murmurs followed from the impromptu war-council.
“I LIKE IT! Toads with that lightning-strike surprise, we’ll crush so many robots they’ll have to salvage US from their wrecks! Haha! I like ya girl. You’ve got a fire in ya. That leaf-hair kid was right to put her faith in you.”
“Si! Tritonio, for once, agrees with the Toad. The Newts will accept your plans of battle, if you’ll have us.”
Sasha recomposed herself quickly, motioning silently for Hop-Pop and Polly to wait as she acknowledged Beatrix and Tritonio’s praise.
“Of course. I’m honored you all think so highly of my strategy. Alright then. Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’re striking a blow that’ll catch Andrias’s attention.”
As everyone dispersed into their separate groups to further discuss the plan or generally whatever captivated their minds, Sasha turned back to Hop-Pop.
“Whatcha need, Hop-Pop?”
“Well Sash- could I call ya Sash? I know that’s mostly an Anne thing, but…”
“Hop-Pop!”
Sasha knelt down to meet his eye level, batting a confident grin that brought an ease to Hop-Pop.
“We’re friends now. You provided Anne food, shelter, and family when she needed it most. When she was lost and didn’t understand this world. That’s a debt myself, as one of her best friends, can never repay. At the very least, you can call me Sash.”
Hop-Pop struggled to hide his blush, making a melodramatic pose while soaking in that praise.
“Dawwwww- well shucks!”
“Hop-Pop!”
Polly stated, getting the old frog back on track.
“Oh, right. Sasha- Sash… we’re just wondering about the status of Anne’s mission. Sprig went with her and all.”
Sasha nodded, then thought contemplatively.
“Anne, Sprig, Wally, and Stumpy were dispatched to scout ahead for our guerrilla attack tomorrow. King Andrias’s largest presence inside the Wartwood Swamp’s surrounding forests is a platoon of Frobots. I sent them to confirm a series of routes I suspect they’re taking throughout the forest. Once we know their routines, we can hit them where it hurts and do some real damage.”
“Will they be alright?”
Hopediah replied.
“Hop-Pop- I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Imprisoning your village, trying to kill you guys..”
“Yeah, could you not do that again by the way? You really put us through the wringer there!”
“I won’t. And I’m truly sorry for everything I’ve done to your family and home. I was just… trying to do what I thought was right. Trusting Anne though? That’s no error. She’ll come back, I’m sure of it.”
A rare moment of relief followed as Hop-Pop warmly and hopefully smiled at Waybright, who returned the expression.
Just then, the underground passage entrance shifted open at the behest of two Toad guards. Rushing inside, Anne Boonchuy, Sprig Plantar, and Wally Ribbton bore expressions of pure, unadulterated horror. A manner of shock and anger Anne’s only expressed at one previous instance, when Sprig almost died at Andrias’s Castle. Sweat slicked their faces as they rushed inside, and immediately, a pit formed inside Sasha’s stomach.
“Anne!? What’s going on!? Talk to me Anne!”
The thirteen-year-old Thai girl could only speak in bated, exasperated breaths for a moment. Any attempts to gather herself were dashed by hyperventilation, causing a worried Hop-Pop and Sasha to approach her sides passively to comfort her. Sasha placed a gentle hand on Anne’s shoulder.
“Anne… what happened?”
“They- Stumpy- he- I… Sash…”
“They? Do you mean Andrias’s troops? Come on Anne, breath. Look at me Anne. That’s it. Alright, that’s it. You’re okay. You’re safe now…”
“Not safe! NOT SAFE-“
As everyone else packed inside the underground shelter worriedly grouped around the commotion, they wouldn’t have to wonder long what exactly transpired out there.
The Plantar Passageway’s roof evaporated into scattered debris and dust, a massive explosion shaking the entire structure. Most everyone inside were knocked onto their hindquarters with yelps of surprise and pain. Not even a second of reprieve was granted as from this smoky outcropping heralded a force of several dozen hulking humanoid monstrosities. Some wore helmets with red-eye visors, others maligned with horns and others still displaying their corruption freely as they’d discarded helmets entirely. Those whose faces were visible bore sharpened teeth and blood-crazed eyes.
A horde of living death was the best way to describe them.
“BATTLE-STATIONS!”
Roared Sasha, hoping her command was heard by anyone over the chorus of panicked screams and demented laughter exuding from these intruders as they stomped down. They all carried weapons, some were blades addled with chainsaws and others were strangely designed automatic rifles that Sasha had never seen before. Nevertheless, these black-armored edifices of war unleashed a devastating payload of destruction against everyone they saw without mercy.
Captain Beatrix, who’d been rushing over with a flank of eight Toads, instantly evaporated into a misty pile of splattered gore alongside her foolish friends as a projectile from one of these rifles met her soft, squishy skin. Their weapons reverberated with such screeching, unwelcome sound that Sasha grit her teeth and rushed away from the main site of carnage. Frobo, the reprogrammed Frobot whose alignment switched from that of Andrias's soulless legions to the Plantar Family, attempted to protect Polly best he could- though a cackling Black Legionnaire soon ended that initiative, grabbing the hapless droid with his bare hands and ripping it into spattering circuitry-sizzled shreds.
A list of spears and swords and arrows clunked haplessly against the armor of these invaders as they giddily pulverized everyone in their path. A helmeted foe revved up his devilish chainsword and rushed with awe-inspiring speed towards Sadie Croaker, an elderly frog who’d long been a citizen of Wartwood.
“COME AT ME YOU ROTTEN FIEND! IN THE NAME OF WARTWOOD I’LL SEND YER HIDES BACK TO WHEREVER PIT YOU’VE CAME FROM!”
Instead of responding, the monstrous killer swung horizontally. Sadie managed to dodge the initial strike, much to his surprise. Sadie unveiled a series of daggers crept into her utility belt which she tossed with precision at the helmet and neck-areas of this eight-foot tall murderer. As the daggers clinked off the armor, the attacker only laughed in sadistic joy of how pitiable her counter-attacks were, before unleashing another swing.
“YOU WHIPPERSNAP- AAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!”
The chainsword managed to catch her fleshy side, the serrated edges revving across its chassis easily mulching the cobbled panoply of Sadie’s, meeting her body within two seconds. A geyser of sliced innards and hissing spew of liquid red followed as Sadie’s top and under-sides were severed from each other. Afterward, the Marine joyously stomped onto the writhing remnant of her top side, rendering her decrepit face into an unrecognizable sludge slagged onto the base of his right boot.
“Pathetic.”
Growled Vrath, Captain Dushcar’s First Lieutenant. Turning around, he witnessed his glorious battle-brothers beginning to torch the entire place, their flamethrowers scalding the underground structure. Licks of Chaotic, Daemon-imbued fire touched everything from the wood to the underground walls to numerous storefronts and repositories for armor, weapons, and general gear the Resistance used. Those battle-brothers who hadn’t yet resorted to burning everything were content with other brutalities, gunning down scores of any Frog, Newt, or Toad stupid enough to challenge them.
“FALL BACK! FALL BACK! TAKE THE EMERGENCY EXIT TUNNELS!”
Shrilly cried Sasha, trying to garner everyone’s attention by waving her sword around. A few disorientated individuals hobbled behind her as they crossed a rickety wooden bridge towards a supposed exit. Vrath grimaced under the helmet. Her insistence on acting as some heroic point of defiance irritated him. He wanted to terminate this girl’s existence with a Heavy-Bolter right now- though Erebus expressly commanded the Resistance heads captured alive. Disobeying the Chief Apostle wouldn’t result in anything good.
“Damnation to these instructions. Alive? What good will this mongrel simian do for us alive? Bah…”
Vrath holstered his Heavy-Bolter and pursued the fleeing group with chainsword abreast.
Sasha supported Anne as they hobbled towards an emergency exit tunnel the Resistance carved for this very reason, though Sasha didn’t expect they’d ever have to use it.
“They… They…”
“It’s not your fault Anne. Quiet down. We’re almost there. I’m not letting them hurt you, okay?”
“W-what are those things!? I saw one… rip Frobo apart. Like he was nothing…”
Polly sounded more distraught than she’d ever been. Even the demise of her parents at the hands of Herons was dwarfed by the sheer trauma she’d endured. The small unit of a dozen survivors escaping while the carnage and screams persisted behind them were crying or trying to rationalize why this occurred.
“New goons of Andrias, maybe. We can’t worry about that right now. Let’s just get out of here before we think on what to do next, okay?”
“W-what to do next? There’s nothing left to do. There’s no hope. It’s over. We’ve lost… our world will fall. Everything and everyone will die…”
Sprig choked out through sobs, comforted by his equally terrified and whimpering grandfather.
“Don’t cry Sprig. Us Plantars can survive anything, alright? We’re a brave family. Nothing’s stopped us before. Nothing’ll stop us now. Just stay close to me. We’ll be alright…”
As they proceeded, Sasha’s thoughts grew evermore darker. Besides the fact they were using the annihilation of longtime friends they’d known for months now as cover to escape, she pondered where Grime was. She saw him earlier today and he promised to attend the strategy meeting, but… oh no…
Grime took a unit of Toads with him to forage for supplies.
And right now he could be…
Sasha didn’t want to think about that. She already wanted to vomit from the horror and stress of what she’d endured. An overwhelming cacophony of massacres that persisted not a few yards behind them. Thankfully, these goons seemed so unbelievably blood-lusted that they contented themselves with seeking out those cowardly enough to hide or stupid enough to stand and fight.
Anne was equally traumatized by the whole affair, whatever she’d seen during her scouting mission… it must’ve been just as bad, if not worse.
Sasha wanted to blame Anne. Her instincts before that era of self-improvement kicked in. To waylay all her confusion and anger onto this poor girl, to somehow insulate the fault of this insanity at someone else’s feet so she didn’t have to feel this unending inadequacy. This constant mental reminder of her own failure to protect these people.
To save Amphibia and Earth.
At least they could escape. Live to fight another day.
A figure arrived from the primary escape tunnel, halting the disheveled group.
“F-felicia?”
Hop-Pop murmured. She didn’t respond. Her face was a gaze of shame. Of mournful repentance.
“W-what are you doing standing there!? We gotta get outta here before those monsters-“
The Plantar Patriarch was quieted, as emerging from the shadows like wrathful wraiths, wearing deathly steel masks with jagged faces and spiked mouths and hideous Daemonic visages, were several invaders. They were undoubtedly part of the same faction those hulking killers hailed from, albeit they seemed more comparable to normal humans like Anne and Sasha. They stood imposingly, armed with various rifles which they angled at the Wartwood refugees.
One hauled over a smaller figure before them all. A doddering, frightful Frog-girl bound with rope and twain, a carbine barrel kept fastened at the back of her head.
“Felicia…”
Sasha murmured, unsure of whether to feel angry, betrayed, shocked, pitying, or perhaps a combination.
“I’m sorry. They… they left me no choice. My daughter- I had to protect my daughter. Please tell me you understand, everyone. Please…”
No approval came from the terrified, increasingly enraged group. Felicia turned to Sprig, whose wide eyes were slick with tears.
“Sprig! Sprig my boy! Surely you understand! F-for Ivy. I… I had to protect my babygirl. Please. Please tell me you understand. Tell me I didn’t make a mistake. SPRIG! PLEASE! THAT’S ALL I ASK! Tell me it’s not my fault. I beg of you…”
Felicia’s whimpering fell on deaf ears, as a stomping reverberated throughout the narrow passageways that led into the escape tunnels. Sprig turned to Ivy, wordlessly whispering if she was okay. Ivy didn’t seem to respond, her eyes glazed of all life from what she’d seen and kept squarely forward.
Vrath darkly chuckled, enjoying the shellshocked terror of those haplessly present before him. He wasn’t a Night Lord, though he appreciated their sensibilities of harnessing and enjoying terror’s succulent taste like no other Astartes could. Vrath aspired for that level of sadistic relishing, to completely imbue oneself in the suffering and mewling of their crestfallen enemy.
That didn’t mean Vrath couldn’t try though.
“It’s always amazing when an inferior lifeform gazes upon their greater. Did you rebels coddle each other here under the warm quilt of hope? Did such pitiable comforts suffice when we bisected your brothers and sisters? Your loved ones?”
“SHUT UP!”
Sasha, without thinking, pushed past everyone else, including a desperate Loggle who tried tugging at her cape to no avail. She protectively stood before the group, unsheathing her sword. Shaking, terrified, consciously knowing she’d die and perhaps everyone else here would anyway, though still standing.
A defiant monument against the degenerate darkness of animals such as Vrath.
It truly sickened him. The fact orders were expressly to capture this rancid human alive irritated the Chaos Marine to no end.
“I won’t let you hurt my friends… so either back off and let us through this tunnel, or-“
“Or what? You’ll pluck me with that toothpick of yours?”
The goons holding Felicia and Ivy Sundew hostage spurt a low laugh at Vrath’s taunt.
“You should be thanking me. Every bone and organ in my body aches for your goring right here and now. Unfortunately, I must take you and your compatriot here alive. That does not mean I cannot befall the same fate onto your pathetic rabble here.”
Sasha didn’t bother mincing words with such an abhorrent villain. Instead, she screamed furiously and charged forward, sword abreast.
“SASHAAAA!”
Anne’s murmuring terror suddenly found coherent voice, though it relieved none. Waybright’s blade clunked awkwardly off Vrath’s armor. Relentless, she continued striking against the Chaos Marine, causing Vrath to sigh irritably. Holstering his chainsword, the Black Legionnaire grasped the struggling human by her wrists with such low force that any further squeezing would smash her delicate arms into putty.
“What low effort. It’s almost a bore to subdue one so weak.”
“LET ME GO! GRAAAAHHHH! FOR GRIME! FOR THE TOADS! FOR EVERYONE YOU’VE-“
Vrath hated her shrill voice already. Tossing the girl aside with a slight modicum of strength, he watched as Sasha fell unconscious after slamming against the wall.
“SASHA! YOU… YOU-“
Anne’s hair sprung up, growing a shade of cyan, as did her eyes. She appeared ready to pummel Vrath, though the Chaos Marine only lifted his grist-stained boot up and hovered it above Sasha.
“This isn’t a story where you get angry and somehow are incensed with the heroic abilities to save the day, you idiotic wench. Any wrong moves and your friend becomes a puddle on my bootheel.”
Boonchuy’s feelings of distraught and defeatism overcame any ideations she possessed of defeating this towering enemy. She could’ve masterminded a clever way to outsmart this beast- if she only had more time. Though time was a factor lost to them all now.
“Good pet. Now then. Kill the others.”
Heeding Vrath’s order, the lesser minions at the Sundews’ side opened fire upon the hopeless Amphibians.
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BRATATATATATATATATATATATATATA-
A howl of whelps and pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears.
“KIDS, RUN! RUN! RUNNNN!!!”
Hopediah begged Sprig and Polly whilst rushing willingly into a hailstorm of bullet-fire. Immediately, the Plantar Patriarch was pierced by hot lead, his eyes rolling back while he clutched his chest area, but a sizzling crater full of bullet-holes.
Sprig couldn’t even vocalize a wail, instead purely focused on obeying Hopediah’s advice and escaping the killing field. There thankfully seemed a side tunnel not fully completed that would provide security. The Plantar brother turned to find Polly, only to see the newly-footed tadpole already grabbed by two goons.
“SPRIG! SPRIG HELP ME! PLEASE! SOMEONE! SASHA! ANNE! I’M SO SCARED! NO DON’T DO THIS! PLEASE DON’T-“
That usually defiant, confident girl capable of taking on the world with all its dangers and menace was replaced by a pathetic, babbling totem of fear. Her small tadpole appendages were stomped ferociously by these assailing brutes. Her agonized bellows would never again leave Sprig’s ears. He wanted to go back. To defend his baby sister.
But no. He was too scared. His heart beat a thousand paces per minute. The only thing he’d accomplish is getting himself an equally unspeakable fate. Even knowing that, seeing her being humiliated and broken by these foul barbarians was almost too much for Sprig. He wanted to pass out from the stress. Polly’s broken feet were just the beginning as one revealed a combat knife and angled it to her pulpy throat.
Burrowing it inside without warning, Polly’s throat contents listed forth. Her screams and begging were replaced by gasping gurgles as she tried breathing, only to receive nothing but a horrific choke. Her eyes dolled back into her tadpole skull, and that’d been the end of it.
As Sprig jostled away from the scene, forever changed and ruined, he turned back to see hulking Vrath smack down Anne, sending her unconscious. Then, two more of these devilish goons grasped both her and Sasha and moved away while the others had their fun with the pitiful Wartwood Resistance.
It was over.
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Newtopia Castle - Andrias's Court
“I must admit, your forces have been… astoundingly efficient.”
King Andrias spoke with a wincing falter lacing what was usually a tough, strident voice. Standing before the Newt monarch, almost as large and with an undeniable killer instinct barely kept at bay by the most barebones confines of political civility, was a gargantuan humanoid fellow clasped in resplendent golden armor that belied his true nature. The man was almost as large as Andrias himself, in fact.
William looked upon the Newt Monarch with a neutral gaze. Those five years since Earth initially fell to his dystopian grasp, Afton had enjoyed total enmeshing with dark corruptions and magicks of Chaos. Through countless rituals, conquests, and generally his soul belonging to the four Void-Powers of the Warp, William’s body began malforming. Musculature grew larger, facial features became uncanny and distant, teeth were sharpened as fangs. Unwilling to constantly remain in Daemon Prince form, William’s superficial body was still enough to rouse suspicion and intimidation from those around him.
Initially, William was dashing, young, and handsome after Chaos’s rejuvenation. Now his features, while momentarily attractive, were grislier. Brutish. Vicious. His golden warp forged Springtrap armor evoking the original Springbonnie design, though barring the helmet. William wanted to appraise Andrias face-to-face.
“Thank you, King Andrias. I suspect the rebel remnants are disintegrating as we speak. I personally oversaw the extermination of the Toad Tower Garrisons who’d relinquished their loyalties to Newtopia. We terminated the foe with extreme prejudice.”
William laughed a little, Andrias following the motion, though with a definite discomfort about it.
“My Master clearly made the correct choice in allying with your faction. Our armies shall march under the victorious banner of conquest as one!”
“Surely they shall, though I presume Newtopia is fully prepared to pay its blood-tithe, as promised?”
Brought up Erebus. The Dark Apostle of Chaos stood at William’s side within Andrias’s court, joined by the enigmatic, robed, elderly Advisor, Zargothrax, All For One, and eighteen Possessed Black Legion and Word-Bearer Chaos Space Marines. Springtrap stared at the smirking Erebus with irritation, not enjoying being cutoff mid-discussion.
William seemed ready to verbally dispute Erebus solely for such heretical insinuation, though Advisor motioned for a sidebar beforehand.
“My Lord- Erebus’s influence amongst the Chaos forces remains unparalleled. It was he whom convinced most of them to embark on the daring migration to serve under your flag. It would be unwise to openly challenge him before a foreign power. You may grant him punishment afterwards, during a private forum, if it so pleases you.”
“Geh… count on that punishment then, Advisor. None speak for me save the Dark Gods themselves.”
After peering back upward, William decided to press the matter Erebus brought up, resolving to handle his internal political disputes later.
“Indeed, mighty sovereign. The blood-tithe will be instrumental in creating a bond of friendship and trust between our powers. The Empire of the Primordial Truth relies on noble sacrifices to become willing inductions into our legions.”
“R-right. Well, considering your demands entail our citizenry being prisoners-“
“Sacrifices.”
“Right, sacrifices… well- give us time to ruminate, yes?”
“Ruminate?”
Zargothrax’s dark, Scottish voice followed, a hateful judgment spewed with every word.
“You were given plenty of time to ruminate while our invasion was prepared. Considerable resources were divested into equipping and bringing my Death Knights of Crail here. Sacrifices are pivotal and expected from each nation that benefits from our intervention. There shall be no rumination.”
Added the evil sorcerer, causing Andrias to grow increasingly worried and agitated. It was obvious that while this toughened Newt was battle-hardened and willing to cross numerous lines to achieve success, the permittance of possibly hundreds, if not thousands of innocent civilians under his stewardship into the clutches of this incomprehensibly evil force wasn’t a threshold he wanted to cross.
“Now hold on-“
“Enough from you, Andrias.”
Lumbering forth from the castle ceiling was a spherical horror. A black ball of peering, holographical orange eyes slathered with dozens of tentacles and affixed to networks of wiring and circuitry with such a vibrant display of malicious technology that even the Dark Mechanicus would be pleased.
The Core- a collection of Amphibia’s best and brightest Newt sovereigns, their consciousnesses uploaded and melded into a singular digitized format which granted them life immortal to conceive new and terrible ambitions.
“Forgive the insolent wretch. He is young. But now- he will learn. All sacrifices are necessary for the advancement of ambition, are they not?”
“Ah. Master of Amphibia. A pleasure to make acquaintance with you at last in-person.”
“Our digital communique was growing old indeed, Lord Glitchtrap. Your actions here have earned our allegiance in your coming wars. The Newtopian Empire must again reign as a dominant power of the Multiverse. Aligning ourselves to your cause appears the best way to achieve such an end. We have something for you. More accurately, someone.”
“Oh? I certainly do love gifts.”
All For One remarked, the supervillain having become a close ally and councilor of William’s. Two Frobots emerged from a corner, ushered by their entangled and eldritch master. Clasped in their hold was Marcy Wu, a Taiwanese-American girl who’d ultimately gotten herself and her friends- through an extended series of events- doomed to quite horrible fates indeed.
“A… little girl? What manner of insult is this- to deliver such a worthless prize to the Lord of Dundee is equivalent to delivering a spit in my face!”
Zargothrax complained, not seeing the value of Marcy as she was tossed down onto the dusty grounds of Andrias’s court. Alit braziers stashed throughout the area granted a foreboding light that only added to such a hopeless scene. The Frobots stood at guard, not that Marcy could do anything. Andrias seemed shocked, turning back towards the gathered thinktank of his ancestors.
“What!? But I thought Marcy was-“
“To be our next host? No. Her intelligence is impressive, though a group consensus decided that her physicality leaves much to be desired. Furthermore, it has historically been Newts that constituted this magnificent body, and so it shall be always. I hope you are pleased, son. Your dream at long last becomes reality. To join us, your father, forever in this heaven of our own making.”
Andrias’s eyes widened, though not with joy. Reports and footage from Frobots that observed Chaos’s carnage wrought throughout Amphibia, and the fact Andrias’s father and everyone else conjoined within the Core found it acceptable still to throw their weight behind them… it was unforgivable. Andrias had limits. He wanted to protest.
Yet nothing came from his mouth. No order issuing the Frobots to fire upon the invading forces of darkness. No blade manifesting into those mighty palms of his to strike down the conglomeration of undying Newts that had sabotaged so decisively his chances of happiness.
No attempt to save Marcy from whatever fate might befall her.
“That is wonderful and all- but I’m still questioning what purpose she serves for us.”
“Her intelligence is indeed remarkable. Perhaps as a symbolic token of our cooperation together from hence forward, she may serve as your first sacrifice?”
“I suppose…”
“My Lord!”
Erebus’s voice rang forth again. Springtrap, now infused by Chaotic energies and impulses and thus finding it nigh impossible to restrain himself during moments of abject rage, was prepared to curse out the interrupting Apostle before Erebus seized initiative and continued.
“If I may- I believe she may serve as a useful mouthpiece for us. The Apostle Corps of the Primordial Empire always requires new members to spread the dark word of our saviors. Place her under my private tutelage. I shall take superb care of her.”
“Hm. Does anyone else object?”
AFO shrugged and Zargothrax just groaned with annoyance at this even being a question.
“Very good then. Do with her as you may Erebus and create another willing servant of ours yet.”
Two Possessed Word-Bearer Marines snarled with understanding after being ushered by Erebus, their claws wrapping around a confused Marcy, carting her away. Beforehand though, her eyes peered open, slowly recovering from the concoction of nonlethal poisons and bodily suppressants she was injected with while in Core custody.
“A-anne? Sasha… Anne, Sasha…”
She murmured on repeat as the Marines shuffled her off.
“That gift is just the beginning. We assure you Lord Glitchtrap- keep the Newtopian Empire in your close circles of reward and power, and our armaments shall compound your war efforts, wherever they wage. Our advancements in science and technology also subsume the infrastructural realms. There is much that Newtopia may offer you as tribute. You only need ask.”
Springtrap felt as though he’d heard a thousand versions of these pleasantries already, from local governors and lords and kings and mayors and captains and generals- from an already sizable career of conquest and despoiling. They were always superficial, meant to masquerade a desire for selfish advancement within the Primordial Empire’s hierarchy. Even so, William needed to accept such kindly words, lest risk awkward consequence’s fomenting.
“And I’ll take you up on those offers shortly. The Primordial Empire controls seven star-systems, and we’re much on the way to ruling many more. Your dimensional warp-technology intrigues me the most. If you’re willing to divulge secrets of that avenue to us?”
“Indeed! We were thinking you’d have interest in such things.”
“Well, not solely for matters of warfare and subjugation…”
All For One interjected. Unlike Erebus, William actually respected AFO’s opinion, so allowed him to proceed.
“Fluid movement of goods has become a matter of importance within our imperial borders. Your natural resources on this world, coupled with your innovations- could prove your Newtopian Empire a major player within the Intergalactic economy, should you play your cards right. You boast considerable advantages here that many of our member-states would kill for.”
“Do we? We shall take that into account. Though first-“
Without warning, the Core’s tentacles primed and jolted directly into Andrias. The Newt Monarch roared in anguished surprise as the invasive legacy of his forefathers now imprinted their vicious insanity into his mind. A series of forcible injections and dark sciences conjured within the unseemly corners of Newtopia’s hidden laboratories took place, altering Andrias’s mental capacity and integrating it into a hiveminded whole.
The procedure was horrific, soul-crushing, and brutal to witness. So naturally, Afton wasn’t very fazed by it. Afterwards, the Core’s primary spherical body shuttered down, the network of poring orange eyes quieting into a silent darkness and chassis clattering unceremoniously onto the ground. What remained of the Core reformatted into a conical helmet taking position upon Andrias’s head, finalizing their possession and utilization of Andrias as their physical emissary.
“Ah! Reclamation of flesh and blood and bone. At last, to have touch and feeling again… well, now I’m more than capable of conducting business.”
“Gotta get me one of those…”
Murmured AFO, while William crossed his arms and appraised the Core-drias.
“Your collective ambitions do surely impress me. I’m building something of a council.”
“Oh?”
The Core spoke with Andrias’s voice meshed within.
“Indeed. While it’s not seen growth in several years, the ultimate goal remains no less noble. A union of the universe’s greatest intellectuals and thinkers. Philosopher-kings and lords of their time, contemporary masterminds that stand above their inferiors. What say you, Core… drias? Andricore? Hmm, what should I call you actually?”
“For now, Coredrias suffices. We have already established a line of diplomacy through our communiques together. I don’t see why that relationship shouldn’t evolve into its next logical conclusion. Too long have we believed ourselves alone with our ambitions. Those of weaker mind believed us mad for bringing our glorious expansion throughout the Multiverse. To know there are those holding similar viewpoints to ours… that brings us a degree of comfort and confidence. Yes… consider the armies of Newtopia at the disposal of your Primordial Empire, Lord Glitchtrap, should you grant us rewards befitting this newly christened status of ours.”
“At last! Here I’d thought today would be another routine acquisition of tributary and treasure. Good to know I’ve been proven wrong. Now come.”
“Come? Where?”
“To your first meeting of the Dark Council, my friends!”
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Springtrap Maximus
Every evil overlord required a foreboding castle from which to dictate their dark creed from. Despite Springtrap’s empire being relatively small dominion of seven solar systems, (give or take), the man’s ego was unparalleled. Every slab of architectural grandeur which constituted this spiky, menacing spacebound fortress crept deeply into the Warp’s terrible whispers. After Earth’s subjugation, thousands of surviving humans were put to work by cruel Chaos and Hellish slave-masters that placed them at the mercy of barbed whips and sharpened knives. Casualties were monumental, though ultimately work on the fortress was completed before schedule- though additions to this colossal monument of vanity and Chaotic magnificence were being constructed every day.
Constructed at the fortress’s centerpiece was an elongated meeting place with a sizable table of black marble and condensed Warpstone, a mineral construed of purest Warp-energies solidified into a malleable rock form. Daemonic spirits whispered incalculable truths and dimensional quadratic formulas into the perked ears of the architects responsible for Springtrap Maximus’s creation, giving them advice crucial to ensure every majestic aspect of this visionary seat of power was built and perfected.
Of course, the harnessing of these dark spirits took the sacrifices of whatever remained of the Maldivian population after their meager nation was swallowed by abominable tides during Earth’s apocalyptic days, but Afton didn’t care.
An energetic purple portal sizzled forth into the council-chamber’s hearth. While Afton was incapable (so far) of transporting entire armies like Combine mass-teleportation technology could, his Daemonic powers were still able to allow but a few visitors through their rippling maws. The extent of Afton’s new abilities were yet to be explored, as most his time was occupied managing the sprawling empire he’d painstakingly carved in the years hence his original victory.
Proceeding first, William’s scintillating armor slinked into nonexistence, shaping into a grandiose set of robes. The Springbonnie helm he slipped back on in-transit formed into an awe-inspiring crown of encrusted gems and rubies. These design choices were completed by a flowing, regal purple cape.
This specific room was dotted with larger-than-life statues and portraits denoting Springtrap, All For One, and Zargothrax- these three, the primary sovereigns constituting the Primordial Empire’s High Command. Davoth, while keeping in relative contact with them, trailed off to resume command of Hell- a vast realm of constant division and destruction that demanded his attention. Even without the Dark Realm’s Warrior-King, Springtrap founded an empire of unrivaled darkness and strength. Millions existed under its banner by now, knowing only security, peace, and obedience to Chaos.
Following Springtrap, Zargothrax, All For One, Coredrias (who’s size didn’t seem a problem in the auditorium-scaled room), Advisor, Erebus, the entourage of Possessed Black Legionnaires and Word-Bearers, an increasingly lucid Marcy, and finally a personal guard of Frobot retainers that stuck close to Coredrias’s side poured in.
Awaiting William were a kneeling conclave of armored terrors, their faces enclosed behind masks of steel and Warp-forged hatred. They were the Glitchtrap-Guard, the cream of his military’s crop. Those who’d distinguished themselves through acts of villainous valor, bravery, loyalty, or ingenuity- perhaps a combination of these traits or some other victorious deed entirely which earned them personal favor from their Emperor’s eyes. Commanding this highly regarded order was none other than Horatio Gibbons.
Formerly an above-average gangster wasting away in Los Angeles’s soulless, materialistic streets, Horatio found a dark savior through the form of Afton. Under William’s dark tutelage, Gibbons discovered that unfettered true potential within himself, becoming a highly capable and efficient administrator, negotiator, combatant, and master of realpolitik.
When Erebus announced to Springtrap that his Dark Mechanicus friends acquired scores of Geneseed, the litany of hardware and bodily additives which created those unique superhuman trademarks of Afton’s Chaos Empire, Horatio was practically first in line. Then came Horatio’s childhood friend, Manuel Demago. Subsequent from them were individuals such as Gerald Toussaint, Fabian Kazzanour, Oliver Johannes, and generally every lieutenant, captain, enforcer, minion, or anyone else that remained loyal to Springtrap’s cause, or otherwise proved themselves useful tools for their master’s usage. Springtrap often forgot these hulking terrors were once regular humans that served him faithfully. Even their voices were deeper, gravellier and more Daemonic, indicating the corruption which slowly seized them and their souls.
“Welcome home, Emperor Glitchtrap.”
Horatio uttered with a deathly calm, kneeling in conjunction with his fellows before Afton.
“Well met, Horatio. I’ve brought new friends with me. I’m sure accommodations can be serviced appropriately?”
“Yes my Lord. I shall inform the slaves hitherto for foodstuff and refreshments.”
“Very good.”
Even Horatio’s manner of speaking became less down-to-earth and urban, refined into a distanced, overlording monologue of fanciful wordplay. William didn’t mind that alteration much.
“Master... forgive my impudence. But- we have longed to battle at your side. To reap the unworthy souls of those who dare oppose you upon the glittering cosmic frontier. Why have we not been granted such privilege during this cour of expansion?”
As the other dignitaries were led by acquiescent servants to specified table seating, (Erebus made formal goodbyes and departed with Marcy in tow), William sighed and moved to address Horatio’s pressing concern.
“You, my sons, my Glitchtrap-Guard. Loyalty such as yours has allowed me to build this grand society upon the boney foundations of Earth’s failed prior nation-states. Such is the reason I neglected to bring you forth for the Amphibian Subjugation. Frankly, the resistance was greatly outclassed by even the weakest of our forces. To bring along your swords for such a menial crusade would be greater insult to your capabilities. Fret not. Upon my next mission shall I garner your services to my side once again. Til then, stay yourself and gird for this imminence. Am I understood?”
William placed a firm, yet fair hand on Horatio’s shoulder. The helmeted warrior seemed hesitant at first, though ultimately accepted such logic and backed down, the rest of his order following.
“Perfect. We’ve a new arrival today. Our image must be of unitary strength. They must understand our might eclipses theirs, and thus psychologically imprint their lesser status compared to our own.”
“Aye, Master.”
Sat around this circular table, the assembled sovereigns were treated to golden goblets of rich wine, charcuterie boards stocked with cheeses, breads, grapes, pears, nuts of all manner as appetizer, and silver-plated entry courses of native Earth dishes such as caviar-laced lobster rolls, steaks, smash burgers, crab cakes, Chinese roasted duck- alongside foodstuffs of more alien origination. These were capitalized by a row of sweets, from cupcakes with ube, chocolate, and butterscotch frosting, to various flavors of rich cheesecake, ice-cream sundaes, and a specialty for tonight- a cake with an overflowing core of bubbling vanilla-chocolate infused liquid.
“To have been rid of the ecstatic pleasure of consumption for centuries, and being welcomed back with such a jaw-dropping feast- this truly honors us Newts, Emperor Glitchtrap.”
“Gentlemen, please. This is merely a casual night of dining at my residence. Merely another perk of membership within my council.”
Zargothrax slipped off that imposing necromantic mask of his and began helping himself to grapes and fine cheeses from the board, even spreading a slathering of sour cream sauce onto a cracker and ladening it with caviar and finishing with cracker, creating a miniature sandwich for a rich, creamy delight. All For One helped himself straight to a main course of steak with a demi-glaze sauce, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and a side of velvety wine.
Coredrias examined these presentations tentatively, deciding upon a plate-full of aged cheeses, crab-cakes, three helpings of Spanish Iberian Ham, and finishing that with a vanilla ice-cream sundae with rich chocolate sauce daubed over. Helping himself firstly to a rich cheese and crab-cake, the multi-generational eldritch made pleasurable noises through Andrias’s voice while chewing down on these delights.
“My compliments to the chef!”
“Chef Julian Slowik. My private cook. The best gastronomist of our time. I’ll have you two introduced sometime. Though perhaps we should discuss more… foremost initiatives firsthand.”
“Mm- of course. What’s on your mind, Emperor?”
Coredrias gulped down a slap of delicious, juicy ham beforehand.
“All For One made prior mention of your potential as an Intergalactic economic superpower owed to your highly efficient means of natural resource extraction, alongside the sizable automaton military at your disposal. Your energy, infrastructural, and luxury exports could see a massive financial take-in for your nascently restored empire.”
“We fully intend to leverage Amphibia’s bountiful caves and forests- among her other trademarks, for such purpose. During Newtopia’s heyday however, our economy was bolstered through the economics of conquest. Each new trans-dimensional realm we subsumed into our society presented their own wreath of benefits to exploit; alongside their unique downsides of course- though our Frobots were usually enough to quell such dissatisfactions.”
Coredrias spoke while attempting to hold still a knife and fork that were clearly too small for him. Ultimately, the Leviathan-King settled for utilizing his hands, a barbaric practice that internally offput a manner-orientated Afton, though no verbal signature of this annoyance was made.
“Mayhaps we could enter into a trade agreement? My Kingdom of Dundee is an unruly territory as ever. Still, loyalists bay the accursed name of the McFife bloodline. These insurgents cloak themselves among the ordinary citizenry, sequestering within places even the Chaos Marines of Emperor Afton cannot reach. Your Frobots appear expendable and numerous, and easy to construct. For an exchange of Frobot factories constructed in my territory so I may reap their utilization, I would gladly open my ports to your wares. Perhaps through bread and circus I may placate these mewling peoples. Fear alone a productive society does not thrive off.”
Zargothrax proposed while wolfing down a caviar-strewn cracker. Coredrias’s multi-eyed helm became alit with curiosity and joy at such proposal.
“We’d enjoy hearing more details after this dinner. Perhaps a later time?”
“Aye, that seems sufficient to me. I’ll dispatch an emissary to your halls afterward then.”
“Speaking of your Frobots, Coredrias, I was contemplating a possible design update for them that would involve inclusion of semi-organic elements…”
All For One spoke next. Soon enough, the dinner became alight with conversation of political dealings and finagling- though also trussed into casual discussion- as if these individuals weren’t abhorrent tyrants responsible for horrific war crimes and atrocities.
Countless deals were forged as the many personalities constituting the Core, for the first time, felt something close to ease. Full trust would’ve never been divulged to these allies, though among all that inhabited this dread-universe ripe for conquering and exploitation, they seemed the most in-tune with understanding their purpose.
An hour passed, and by now, they were perusing more banal topics, including the insulting and demeaning of their enemies, most of whom were literal children, intriguingly enough.
“HAH! Indeed. It was foolish of those lickspittle children to believe they could stand against our might. Admittedly, they possessed a strange connection to those Calamity Gems we would’ve liked to know more about. Would it permit for us to retain the Boonchuy and Waybright girls as prisoners for study?”
“I see little issue there. The girls are of little consequence to me. I’m unsure what that snake Erebus wants with Marcy Wu- though I’ve an idea.”
“Hehe. Is your friend of a salacious inclination, Emperor Glitchtrap?”
All For One inquired while pouring himself another helping of wine from a beautifully designed bottle.
“Rumors certainly abound within the Apostle Corps, though again, nothing of my concern lest it affect my operations directly. Say, All For One, whatever happened to that Midoriya boy? He was of great concern to you years ago.”
Afton asked.
“Tomura holds custody of that powerless gnat. There he is gifted suffering unknowable till time’s end. No better fitting a fate for All-Might’s wretched spawn.”
“Surely. Any child idiotic enough to follow down the path of righteousness and light should be maimed in their crib.”
Zargothrax added with a chuckle.
“Ah- but children are the future. Slay a few here and there to make a point, I agree- though a majority should be preserved for future usage. People are our greatest resource if used correctly. They carry our dreams of empire.”
“Personally, I would enjoy an age of automation that would entirely remove the necessitation of pathetic mankind as cogs in my dark machine. Angus McFife’s legacy of that insidious thorn dubbed ‘hope’ has provided no end of troubles to my plans of godly ascendance.”
William seemed ready to contribute another statement before the cloaked Advisor carefully approached his side and whispered something.
“Hmm? Right now?”
“I’m afraid so, My Lord. His transmission was described as ‘pressingly urgent’ by the Spymaster.”
“… Put him through.”
William turned to his allies, whose attentions were squarely fixated on whatever was occurring there.
“Gentlemen- I’ve been informed an ally of mine is preening for my assistance. A momentary disruption, I assure you.”
“Hah! Let us hear this plea. It may provide some further intrigue.”
All For One remarked. William thought little of it. AFO and Zargothrax were members of his coveted inner circle, and Coredrias was warming into that status already with the nascent potential of his restored Newtopian Empire. It’d also serve as another psychological status symbol of Glitchtrap’s power to display another sovereign reliant on his generous assistance.
A projected screen unfurled before the meeting room. At first a purely black screen, it soon garbled to holographic life owed to technologies of William’s own making. His engineering quirk always shone through, and being a Dark Lord didn’t mean he couldn’t be an expert innovator and craftsman too.
A momentary buzz followed, before onto the screen flowed the visage of an elderly, shimmering bald, stout human male.
Scolar Visari- undisputed Autarch of the Helghan Empire, a society forged from unrepentant hardship and Darwinist attitudes regarding the wider universe. You were either predator or prey, and the Helghast intended to stay predator.
“Emperor Glitchtrap. A pleasure to see you again, though I wished under sunnier circumstances."
“Autarch Visari. You’ve interrupted my dinner. I pray for your sake the reasoning is just.”
Visari didn’t betray any signs of cowed fear at that thinly veiled threat, something most did. William couldn’t help but appreciate that level of boldness.
“Just indeed, Emperor Glitchtrap. Should it not inconvenience you, I intend to make good on that deal we forged two Terran solar-rotations ago. My Helghan troops provided safety to your frontier colonies during your old struggle. Thusly, I expect your own Marines and dark servants to provide a similar security to my people.”
William chafed. He forgot about that favor. Denying assistance now before his inner circle members (and an inner-circle aspirant), alongside the Glitchtrap-Guard and Advisor would indicate stark weakness. Through attempting to display his own greatness and strength, he’d shoveled a trap for himself.
“And what would this callback entail?”
“My people stir. We, the spirits of Helghan, are made of iron and blood, and our fury is surefire as our vengeance against those oppressors who made profit and succor from our suffering. However… even those of indomitable Helghan require sustenance. As you’ve prior declined to establish routes of food-based trade-“
“Not unless your Helghast Empire agrees to submit itself a member-state of my Primordial Empire.”
“Hah! A clever trick, yet one I refuse all the same. Nay, I am not here to preen and beg to become your vassal, Emperor Glitchtrap. I request instead a military intervention on your end. Crucial lanes of import and export are burnt, middleman worlds that served as ports for these goods being targets of unholy bands of alien marauders. They style themselves a ridiculous name: ‘The Banished’. Whoever they are, they have refused to engage us in an open theater of combat- preferring the cowardly guerilla means of hit-and-run assailments. Helghan can stand these insults no longer!”
“I presumed you would’ve called in your favor to resolve a matter beyond a group of reaving pirates.”
“The matter of our vengeance against the UCN and their backers shall stay Helghan’s business exclusively! And these are no ordinary reavers. You shall see. We request your assistance in clearing our borders of this… hampering. According details will be provided as needed, should you accept.”
“…”
William chafed. Another theater of warfare? Now? Ambitions of expansion would have to sideline once again. Though making good on pacts was a matter of heightened importance. It was a difficult choice, yet simultaneously an easy one.
“Of course, Autarch. The Forces of Chaos will help you clear this… problem of yours.”
“Excellent. You shall be briefed shortly.”
Visari blipped out from the call, leaving a frustrated Afton to roll back and face his inner circle.
“… I think that went rather well.”
All For One remarked.