Hazbin Hotel X Silent Hill part 6 (crossover)

from /hhg/ - Hazbin Hotel General Thread #188
part 1: https://pastebin.com/kY6bKvD4
part 2: https://pastebin.com/bLzVm5KJ
part 3: https://pastebin.com/VRh8XuGz
part 4: https://pastebin.com/Q41YzCK8
part 5: https://pastebin.com/g6GVf36m
-
chan (peror) in Silent hill and other stuff: https://pastebin.com/p3X9iPGc
/hhg/ Niffty speculations: https://pastebin.com/EJ7JtWtt
/hhg/ Silent Hill speculations: Katie Killjoy: https://pastebin.com/nBVQ8Mwk
---
Tom Trench:
>in Tom's case, the whole ordeal is reversed - he starts IN the town (now resembling the small town near Toronto, where he was born and grew up)
>the place doesn't seem corrupted or warped, not even decayed
>instead, it's just... Washed out. Silent. And largely devoid of people
>the snow is falling, it's cold, and quiet
>there's nothing to do here, just look for an exit - he can no longer recall which was "their" house
>the few people he does encounter are... Nondescript - either vaguely human-shaped silhouettes, or, if there is any detail on them, it's all faded and blobby, like an old watercolor painting, done by a 5-year-old
>leaving the town borders, he immediately finds himself in Toronto proper - except it has been burned to the ground
>only the charred husks of buildings remain, and by now, people are completely absent - the only things left are "Stray Dogs", fluid, amorphous, emaciated-looking creatures that look like spilled black watercolor paint, that dig/sniff through the rubble and flee upon noticing Tom
>the by now, the sun is shining, but the snow still continues to fall (in larger flakes, to boot) from a now mostly cloudless sky
>adding to general absence of life in the town and city are the absence of colors - everything is in black and white, and shades of grey
>however, there's always something... Off, here and there - a tree twitching rapidly, some sort of snaking, zig-zagging, monochrome shape emerging from the ground in the periphery of his vision, the "Sky Ray", a dark, almost black, shape that seems to cover a corner of the sky every once in a while, trying to consume it all, only to disappear in a blink
>these "oddities" become all the more frequent in the town, which is reduced to a flat plane at it's center, as if it were ground zero for a massive explosion
>reaching the center, Tom's suddenly whisked away, finding himself back in the forest - any which way he goes leads him to the Barracks

Cont.
-
>Tom suddenly finds himself, standing in line with other soldiers - soldiers far taller than him, with faces wrapped in bandage, rifles in hand - being talked down by an equally tall drill sergeant in a peaked cap, with a face made out of bits and pieces of a field telephone - the rotary dial serving as his mouth (resembling the filter of a gas mask), his nose replaced by the cone you'd find on the microphone of old telephones, and his eyes being the bells - the only natural part of his face being his skin, and large mustache
>while the sarge sounds breathless and raspy, and speaks in an incomprehensibly quiet voice (that still sounds like yelling), the other soldiers are silent - only their clothes and bandages make the slightest of sound
>Tom isn't allowed to leave, being forced to stand in the snow amongst the others, his only cold comfort being the presence of colors - albeit dull and dark ones
>eventually, however, he's prompted to leave - not dismissed, though, just finds the others sort of... loose authenticity, becoming more like animated props than anything
>the sarge doesn't seem to notice him leaving, and he's free to explore the small village-sized compound
>most of the larger buildings - primarily the mess hall - are filled with the same, passive, watercolor-shadow people he had come across in the town
>however, what he has to do - gather his stuff for deployment, that is to say, steal the various equipment of other soldiers - forces him to enter the small, cramped living quarters, bearing a closer resemblance to wooden camping lodges than barracks
>the insides are dark and stuffy - until he collects what he came for, when it suddenly becomes cold and drafty, the color draining from it almost completely - and he has to make haste, due to the "Heads"

Cont.
-
>Plastic, almost porcelain-like death masks that idly float around in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, close to the ceiling - only hovering down and homing in on him, once he found the object he needs, like a rifle part, or an item from a medkit
>their expression warps, in quick session, from the stiff calmness of death, to the anguished (and disfigured) look of an injured soldier, to downright inhuman, demonic visages, burning with wrath
>with each lodge, they become more and more aggressive, and the room, more and more hostile - furniture breaking and forming a maze with sharp pieces extruding at leg and eye level, forcing him to walk carefully while the "Heads" are bearing down on him
>once all pieces are collected, he's back in his old uniform (127th Battalion - the 12th York Rangers), ready for war - however, it is then that a new figure shows up
>colored golden pastel, and resembling a particularly animated plastic bag (in the vague shape of a woman), the faded figure entices him - following it leads him out of the camp, and into the woods, where the trees are just rusty poles with sharp spikes on them, standing close enough for someone uncaring to walk into one, while still being far apart to allow uninterrupted passage
>"she" leads him to the "confession stand" - a clearing with a single, snow covered stump on it - where he's compelled to get on half knee, and offer the shroud like figure... Something. He can't make it out, and he's teleported back into the camp
>it's all red now - the skies, the water, the shades in the snow. everything -, and black
>he has to make his way back to the gathering area, made harder by the fact that the other soldiers now seen intent on catching him and "hazing" him - literally choking him to death in the snow
>the lodges are now the safe areas - still drafty and cold, but now devoid of "heads"

Cont.
-
>he also has to look out for the "Sarge" - he's now on the prowl as well, sounding like an air-raid siren as he passes by, facial features replaced by a shadow over his face, and two, glowing white orbs that cast spotlight-beams in front of him - the soldiers freeze up when he's around, but immediately pounce if he spots Tom
>he has to make his way to the flagpole, at the center - the soldiers hounding after him, and "Strawmen" - scarecrow-like training dummies - popping out from the snow, trying to pull him in, as he runs in full battle gear, the world fading into gray around him, resembling a great, empty, snowy plane, the snowfall pettering out as he reaches the pole, and raises the flag
>as soon as he does, he's on the ship
>this is where the game returns to normal, if only briefly
>the ship is derelict, but still moving, and there are clues to be found - each area has its own bosses to deal with - it's a mixture of Silent Hill and Layers of Fear 2 (sans the movie-related puzzles)
>however, all the monsters serve as a cruel reminder of the larger setting - most of them being either ape-like, gas mask and fireproof suit wearing "Brutes" or bandage-headed, nearly silent "Sailors" and "Privates", in their respective uniforms - uninspired, same-ish, and repetitive, they become more of an obstacle to overcome than a scare
>a few bosses stand out - the "Captain", oddly enough, found in the boiler room, wearing pristine dress uniform, while his head resembles a gas hood "burst open", spilling corrosive gore in the grated floor in front of him (and eventually onto him, dissolving his whole body)
>the second is the "First Mate", found on the poop deck - his face wrapped up completely (with the gauze tied into a girlish bow atop his head), blood seeping through bonds, giving him simple, but constantly warping, facial expression of sorts, made of the red stains - he's defeated by making him fall overboard

Cont.
-
>an optional boss can be fought on the starboard deck, in the form of the "Austrian", a giggling, frolicking, and utterly psychotic being, wearing a sailor cap atop what looks like a bodysuit made out of baggy, fatty, loose skin, with a SMILING gas mask poking through it - he attacks by knocking Tom to the ground, and then attempting to "paint" over his eyes with a paintbrush-cum-shiv (thanks to the hardened paint turning its hairs into a jagged tip)
>he is defeated, rather comically, by throwing him onto one of the tuba-like air vents, him disappearing down it with a Goofy-scream
>the last boss of the ship is the detective - an odd fellow, dressed in a checkered felt trench coat, feet the size (and shape) of bricks, wrapped in gauze, hands looking like they're melting, and head... resembling an uprooted tree trunk, with a teeth-filled hollow
>he cannot be directly defeated, only confronted and then avoided - he needs to lead him out of the captain's quarter's, which is also the bridge
>once he does so, he can take control of the ships, and turn the wheel (previously tied down, forcing the ship to sail in circles) to pilot it towards dry land. as it comes into view, with the sun rising above the horizon
>except...
>the land pours through the windows, sucking him in, the sun rising above his head, glaring down and fading out, leaving behind a bleached sky
>the land, barren, undulates and ruptures, cracks forming across its surface, before it tears open, blood rising from its gashes like fire - barbed wire crawls across it like maggots, and the corpses of trees, horses, machines and people rise from the ground as if it was water
>the skies crack and darken, spottily, rain pouring down from above, as a jagged, square-wave line snags across the field, leaving a trench system in it's wake
>and everything is BROKEN

Cont.
-
>the spotty darkness in the skies part - enter the moon, pale, pouring it's light onto the field, coating it with a slowly crawling, liquid-like cloud of deadly, fluorescent green gas
>the noise is unbearable - it's like a repetitive, mechanical roar, like being inside a cement mixer, fading in and out
>the machine guns begin to bark, as dark, vaguely human-like shapes crawl out from the ground's wounds, and start to run towards him - all of them becoming rotting corpses as they approach, falling to bits in front of him
> and everything's BROKEN - the ground bleeds and vomits mustard gas, and the large guns file numbly, and the machine guns bark and cover the horizon with sparks and
>Tom is in the Trenches now
-
>the goal of the game is simple - survive
>at all cost
>the "Detective" is back - strolling across the battlefield hopping into trenches, and then jumping out, blending among the dead trees - a perfect hiding spot
>the bandaged soldiers are back - milling around in the trenches idly, even as deadly artillery fire comes down thundering upon them
>Tom has to make his way through the trenches - avoiding collapses, snipers in the shallow parts, flamethrower troops that randomly decide to peek over the top and shower him in flames
>friendly soldiers wear familiar uniforms, Brodie helmets, and have bandage-covered faces, while enemy troops wear gas masks
>at one point, the trenches shallow out completely - it's all No-Mans land now, and he has to crawl from cover to cover
>from cannon to cannon, from tank to tank, from cadaver to cadaver, from corpses to corpses
>never to the trees, though
>you can't trust the trees
>they're dead, but alive, in the same time - filled with life, though the gas has killed anything that could crawl inside
>as he progresses forward - into enemy territory - the scenery changes: neutral British Mark Vs are replaced by menacing-looking A7Vs, their front thorn off, fashioning a jagged, roaring mouth, their commands cab crushed into a glare
>allied horse carcasses are replaced by black furred German ones, each revealing itself to be a sniper's nest in disguise
>friendly corpses replaced by enemy corpses, looking like they're crawling towards him, even in their death
>knives between their bared teeth - not that a skull could do anything else
>however, before he could reach the enemy trench, Tom's forced to go through a wooded area - or, what used to be one
>calling it anything more than crater-filled gallery of trunks would be overly generous, to the point of dishonesty
>however, slogging through it, he would come across one particular, shallower crater, that's occupied

Cont.
-
>he has been dead for a while now - the Pickelhaube had all but rotten away, its spike corroded green, and the coat all thorn to shreds, rotten and moldy, like the boots
>one thing remained serviceable: the mask
>an older model, made of rubber, and with solid glass lenses - lenses that were browned by use, as was the rubber itself
>oddly enough, the straps held on
>a rifle, likewise discolored, laid nearby, corroded to uselessness
>a choice presents itself:
>like any other Canadian, he was expected to be immune to the gas (no, seriously, look it up)
>but, with the option present, he has a choice
>and that's when he saw him

>the Hollow Man
-
>not a childhood monster, not a battlefield boogeyman, not some mythical creature of Native fantasies
>that's just who he was - the Hollow Man
>the "Detective" he saw earlier stood before him, gaping mouth, slack jawed, tongue twisting
>smelling the air
>the trees around moved - hollows groaning as they uprooted themselves to shuffle closer
>he remembered, suddenly - a childhood's worth of summers spent south of the border, in sunny Michigan state
>in a rickety shack with warped trees threatening to collapse on top of it
>one right in front of his window - it usually had an owl in its hollow, but when it didn't

>the skies began to bleed
>red miasma flowed between the trees - between the Hollow Men
>this was it, it was do or die - he grabbed at the mask...!

A shot rang out.
-
>a mirror - a frozen lake
>what's under the mask, Tom?
>what's under the mask?

disfigured,skinrottenoff,eyeballsfrozen,muscleshardenedintowire,tonguebittenoff,lungsravagedbyblueasbestos,filterruptured,lensescraced,therubberheld

>the carrion crow followed him everywhere - as did death
>they showed him no mercy - he'd do the same to them
>22 years of his life, wasted for THIS...!

Stolen articles include:
- One (1) Lewis automatic machine gun
- One (1) Webley Self-Extracting Revolver, Mark VI
- One (1) Ross Mk.II rifle
- One (1) German "Parabellum-Pistole"
- One (1) German MP-18 machine-pistol
- One (1) German "Wechselapparat" flame-thrower
- One (1) Winchester Model 1897 trench gun
- One...
...
- One (1) German "Gummimasken" gas mask, issued 1916

>what's under the mask, Tom?
>what's under the mask?
>takeitoff, takeitoff, TAKEITOFF!

There's nothing under the mask.
No man, no monster.
There's nothing left - no home, no memories, no names, no faces.

He no longer had a face.

He no longer had a name.

They called them "Tommies" - so that's who will be.
That's what he'll be - a Trench Tommy.

Tommy Trench.

Tom Trench.
-
>the final boss fight is against a feminine, insectoid creature
>armed only with a trench gun, Tom has to methodically hack away at her limbs, until only four remains
>the creature - the familiar figure of a woman - will then go on the defense, hiding itself
>if he find it, he's offered two choices:

Deny it

>or

Embrace it


>deny it, and he'll kill it
>embrace it, and he'll hug the creature, only for it to hug him back, nip at his neck, and start licking his blood

>depending on the choices the player made, there are two ending that could occur:
>if he chose the "braver", "heroic" options (not including killing the final monster), he'll end up in his bed, as a human, the day he joined the army
>this is the "bad" ending
>if he chose the "cowardly", "selfish" options, he'll wake up, in bed, next to Katie Killjoy, who would irritatedly comment that he'd cost her another night's worth of sleep, and not in a good way, before noticing that he isn't well, and then hugging him close as the big spoon, caressing his mask-clad face until he calms down, and both of them fall asleep
>this is the "good" ending


Aaand, this is it. Holy fuck, this kept me up all night. I hope I'll still be able to finish the fucking job - I can't put it off any longer.
Anyways, I hope you guys liked it - this is the final Silent Hill story.

Also, I'll be AFK for a the following day, so keep the threads going.