Chaos Incorporated

by DontTreadOnMe777777

Catching Up

‘Ugh… where am I?’ Nothing but endless gray greeted Ricky. ‘Is this Purgatory?’

After a bit of thought in the eerie landscape, Ricky came to a realization. ‘This has to be Purgatory,’ he argued to himself, ‘until I get transported back to Hell.’ With this belief, Ricky say back and prepared to wait.

Time blended together, and when the scenery suddenly changed, Ricky blinked in confusion. ‘How long was that?’

The blackened ground of Hell greeted him, as well as other soldiers. Two Germans noticed their commander sitting on the ground and ran over. They offered their hands, and Ricky took them and pulled himself up.

Everyone began shuffling in a slow, silent column in the direction of the volcano, its peak acting as a landmark. Ricky wedged himself in a company of American doughboys and began the walk.

“I'm telling you, the Americans did more than the British in Flanders. We were the crushing blow! The final wave!”

“No way,” Ricky wagged a finger, “you guys were so late to the party. Us British and the French had already done the work. You just waltzed in and claimed victory, like a typical American ‘war’.”

“You needed us. You guys barely had anyone left to fight!”

“Alright, how many Jerries did you kill?” The Americans looked between each other. One raised two fingers. Another raised one. “Exactly.”

“I was a communication officer.”

“And I'm sure you can find plenty of those with several kills or more in the French, German or British ranks,” Ricky stated.

“Well, we paid you back with interest in World War 2,” one of the Americans piped up, the others murmuring agreement.

“True, you did save our asses,” Ricky shrugged. “So I guess we are even.”

“Commander,” another American rubbed his hands together, “what happened during the battle? None of us could see what was happening over on the right.”

Ricky shrugged again. “I died in the center, but I can tell you that the right looked really good for our guys. We might still win. We’ll have to wait for more news.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, but through it all the battle hung over everyone’s mind. New messengers occasionally arrived, but the battle still apparently hadn't ended.

Eventually, a legionnaire arrived. He stamped his foot. “Commander.”

“What is it, soldier?”

The Roman took a deep breath. “Reinforcements were sighted off to the northeast, ponies. I fear they may stop the German divisions on the right through simple weight of numbers.”

“Do you think we can win?”

The legionnaire, a black-haired man with blue eyes, shuffled nervously. “Well, sir, I'm not exactly qualified to-”

“Answer the question.”

“No, sir. The news of your death has spread rapidly, and small detachments have begun a fighting retreat back towards the city. Organized attacks will likely crumble over the next few hours, as the others have become fatigued and low on ammunition.”

“Thank you.” Ricky never broke stride, continuing on in the column. ‘Damn.’

Soon, the hills gave way to the military camps of the volcano basin. Ricky, trying not to get desperately lost in the endless rows of barracks, finally found himself at the bottom of the old temple again.

Nobody greeted Ricky as he opened the massive doors. “I need a drink. Where’s that kitchen?” He opened a door, which turned out to be the correct one, and ambled over to the liquor cabinet.

Rummaging through, he found a bottle of whiskey. Grimacing, he pulled up his tattered shirt, revealing the old bandages of his stomach wound.

“Let's see here.” Removing the bandages, Ricky could see a dark scab, surrounded by purple flesh and blood. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Bottle in hand, he left the room and went back out the doors.

He spotted a German doing rounds around the perimeter. “‘Scuse me, do you know where I could find a medic?”

Before the guard could answer, another voice answered. “I do.”

“Than-wait. I know that voice.” Ricky spun around.

The angry visage of Jeremiah loomed over him. “Ah, shit.” Ricky began to back away. “Look, I can explain.”

“I'm sure you will.” Jeremiah pulled Pacemaker from his belt holster. Without a word, he pointed at Ricky's left foot. “Starting now.”

“What?”

“3,” Jeremiah ignored him, beginning to count.

“Uh, I had to! We were losing!”

“2,” Jeremiah lowered a finger.

“I had to, and as your commanding officer, I order you to stop!”

“1.”

“...Please?”

BAM! “Aaahhh!”

“That's what you get when you ignore doctor’s orders.” Jeremiah ignored the glare from Ricky, who was now hopping in place on his right foot. “Now come on, I'll treat you.”

“If you were anyone else, I swear, you'd be dead.”

“If I was anyone else, you'd be dead. That’s got a strong infection chance. But, luckily for you, I'm your personal medic.” Jeremiah laughed as he gave Ricky his shoulder to lean on. “You'll be right as rain in a day.”

“You totally broke your Hippocrates oath, by the way,” Ricky pointed out as they worked their way across Hell’s capital city.

“I totally don't care,” Jeremiah shot back. “I think God would understand, if he knew who you were.”

“Jeremiah, you still believe in God?”

He was silent for a moment. “Sure. I mean, if all this exists, then there must be a kingdom of God.”

“But then why would he damn you?”

“It must be His choice, and if it's His choice then I'll respect it, as a servant of God.”

Ricky opened his mouth to ask another question, but stopped. Before the discussion could start again, they crossed into the military district. Ricky couldn't help but stare as soldiers of the Grand Armée marched past, dressed in their resplendant blue tunics. A company of Polish winged lancers trotted past, spears razor-sharp. A few Mongol horsemen were helping to coordinate the towing of a F4U Corsair, the American airmen on top yelling directions.

“This place is ridiculous. And I love it.”

“Here we are,” Jeremiah announced as he pulled Ricky over towards a tent. “This is U.S. Medical Headquarters.” He pulled the flap open.

The scene inside was hectic. Medics, ranging from a few in Continental Army dress to some in modern battle fatigues and camo, roamed the cots, on which lay soldiers of all types. Jeremiah guided Ricky away from the most crowded part, towards one of the corners. “Hopefully nobody will notice you, else I’ll be here till Hell freezes over doing paperwork. Just don't draw any attention.” He ran off.

‘Jeremiah will get punished as long as I make lots of noise,’ Ricky thought, a devilish grin growing. ‘I think that would make us even.’ He sat up, cupped his hands to his mouth, and drew a breath.

“Jeremiah Green hasn't filled out his paperwork yet!”

“Just don't put too much weight on it and it'll be fine.”

“Alrighty doc, thanks for the help!” Ricky was finally allowed to leave the medical tent, pushing open the flap. Before he left, he turned around to face Jeremiah, who was currently glaring daggers at his back from his desk seat. “Have fun, Jeremiah!”

The American moved to stand, but his superior slapped a hand on the desk that the medic was working at. “You know the drill, Green. Get to filing.”

Ricky left him there, stretching in the warm air like a cat. “Where’s that bastard Discord?” He began to head back towards the temple that had previously served as headquarters.

Eventually, he was in front of the huge double doors again. “Hello?”

This time, the draconeqqus that the Scot was searching for poked his head out of a doorway. “Ricky?”

“Discord! What happened to you?” Ricky closed the door behind him.

The draconeqqus suddenly seemed annoyed. “The Elements of Harmony. I tried my best, I really did, but those six somehow outfoxed me.” He paused to take a breath, then hesitated. “Wait. Why are you here?”
“Well, it's a long story. Mind letting me share it with you over a bottle?”

“I guess. Tirek and Sombra are off doing who-knows-what, and Chrysalis hasn't showed up yet. Lead the way.”

Ricky and Discord walked into the room that housed the liquor cabinet. The teen ran his finger over the bottles, before setting on a bottle of whiskey. Discord snapped his eagle talons, and two glasses appeared on the table.

“Well,” Ricky poured for both, before sitting down with bottle in hand, “I guess it starts back at Arbor Hollow…”

Author's Note:

Whew. It's been a while, but I hope you enjoy!

Comments

[Alot Master]

*sees no next button* NOOOOOOOOOO!

[DontTreadOnMe777777]

7448249 I'm working on that as we speak

[Starlight Nova]

7473082 It's been thirteen weeks... How far along are you? Also, Tirek is a centaur, not a minotaur.

[Blaze the draconic mage]

Pls update this is amazing

[Error_404_EntityNotFound]

Hello there. I must say, you haven't updated this story in a while. Do you plan on returning to it?