Doom Story Update

2k words

***

Andreas held his combat ready stance, squaring off against two more imps scrambling towards him, cupping flames between their claws. The closest of the two moved into range of his improvised weapon, and as he prepared to swing, a harsh crack tore through the air.

The imp’s face from the nose up vanished, the demon stumbling two paces before the body gave out. Its accomplish froze in surprise, and then its head met the same fate as the first, a second crashing report following it through. Nearly all demonic heads turned in search of the source of the disturbance, even Sharrya’s left brow experienced a twitch as she pondered on the two fresh imp corpses.

“Humans,” she whispered. Her gaze fell on Andreas, but he was no longer at her rear, the Seargent sprinting towards the wall of imps at full-kilter.

More cracking reports sounded off from somewhere not far off, and another imp succumbed to a lethal headshot. Some of the imps sort cover, one slipping behind a car door warbling out a cry as a giant hole appeared in its chest. A third imp had its arm blown off at the shoulder, a fifth and sixth following suit.

They were being picked off one at a time, the confidence of the numerous imps shattering as more of them dropped, and their attention turned to the buildings lining the highway. One of the demons didn’t even bat an eye as Andreas brushed by his flank, skidding to a stop next to his discarded weapons.

As he pulled the slings overt his chest, a voice crackled into his helmet, and it wasn’t Eva’s.

“Seargent? Seargent, this is Corporal Torres. Command said you could use some assistance, and something tells me that’s an understatement. You alive down there?”

“Just a-fucking-bout,” Andreas replied. An imp finally took note of what he was doing, but a plasma bolt from his rifle put down any retaliation.

“Get down off that highway, we’ll cover you,” Torres continued. “We’re holed up at the motel - blue building on your left. Meet us there.”

With the sniper fire, and Sharrya still dealing with her own half of the imps, Andreas took his chance, hugging the highway barrier and circumventing the chaos. A couple of the outlying demons tried to intercept him, but precision shots from his new guardian angels ensured his clean breakaway.

The building the Corporal had indicated was maybe blue in another lifetime, but the invasion had mostly bleached it of its colour, the residential building reduced to a couple floors of loose detritus. The rubble provided plenty of concealment for the snipers on the upper floors, Andreas picking out a few gun muzzles poking through gaps in the bricks.

A short flight of steps up and through a glass archway, and he was inside the safety of the structure, the sounds of the gunfight dimming slightly. Andreas dropped to a crouch as he heard movement from the stairwell in the far corner of the lobby, hesitating as he watched a pair of boots enter his view.

A moment later, a soldier dressed in combat armour was training a scoped rifle on him, Andreas lifting his plasma rifle on reflex. The two humans lowered their guns after a second, the solider lifting his visor with one hand and waving him over with the other.

“Seargent Andreas? When they told me you were stranded out here, I didn’t expect to see you in one piece.” He offered his hand. “You must have balls the size of Mars.”

“And you must be Corporal Torres,” Andreas replied, the man nodding as they shook hands. “It’s good to see someone without horns and claws for a change.”

“Nice going with that distraction by the way,” Torres remarked, clutching his rifle to his chest. “All I asked your robot for was a scene, and you caused a full-blown riot. From what I saw they seemed more concerned with that Baron than you, Sarge. How’d you pull that off?”

“Long story,” Andreas replied. “Let’s just get out of here before they realise I gave them the slip.”

“Good point. Get down here everyone, we’re leaving,” Torres said into his helmet’s radio. A moment later, and a squad of four other soldiers rushed down the stairs, joining them in the lobby. They were all dressed in similar battle attire, with the Spanish flag sewed into patches on their shoulders. There was an exit archway at the far side of the room, Torres becoming to Andreas as they moved towards it. “You coming, Sarge?”

Andreas made to join them, then hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. A couple dozen meters out and to the right, he could see Sharrya had her hands full with the imps. The lesser demons had entirely forgotten about him and the snipers covering him, the remainer of the pack circling her like wolves. Her expression was furious, but there was restraint in her movements, every kick and punch held back just a fraction, and she never once conjured up fire in her hands. She really did mean to show her former men mercy.

One of the imps managed to circle around her, and leap onto her shoulders without her notice. He locked his elongated legs above her copious bosom, slicing into her scalp from behind. Sharrya roared, reaching up to pluck him off, but the imp was slippery, holding onto her shoulders tight as she tried to throw him off. The rest of the imps never let up, hacking at her furry legs, her rich blood shooting into the air like erupting geysers. She might not want to kill them, but for the imps, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Indecision wracked him. Sharrya was a commander of Hell, the literal definition of his enemy, yet a part of him didn’t want to see her die. She’d shown restraint in capturing him, shielding him from the scrutiny of her minions. Sure, her endgame might have been using his soul for whatever rituals Hell had in store for humans, but the fact she’d saved him from that imp not a few minutes ago put doubt on her malice. She wasn’t cruel to him, so why should he be cruel to her?

“Fuck it,” Andreas mumbled. Then louder he said: “Corporal, your rifle. Now.”

Torres’ only argument was a solitary blink, the man shouldering the sling and tossing it over. Whether he was respecting his rank or could tell Andreas wasn’t someone he wanted to question, that was anyone’s guess, but Andreas liked his attitude. This Corporal got things done.

Andreas braced the rifle against his shoulder, peering through the scope. The weapon was bolt action, a little less modern than what Andreas was used to, but its pinpoint accuracy was exactly what he needed. The magnified view brought him right up to Sharrya’s upper torso, her demonic features pulled up in a snarl as the imp on her back continued to harass her. How someone could take that many slices to their cranium and live was astounding, but Andreas was used to her resilience by this point.

He waited for his moment, and when Sharrya turned her back on him, he fired, the stock kicking into his shoulder with force. The solitary bullet passed straight through the imp’s skull, the demon flipping off the Baron’s back, and curling up like a dead spider by her hooves.

The Baroness looked from the corpse, then to him, their eyes locking over the distance. The corner of her lips curled, and she dipped her head in a silent, if mocking, gesture of thanks, Andreas replying by rolling his eyes.

With the dwindling number of imps, Sharrya took back the initiative, but Andreas didn’t wait around to see the results. He had five other men to worry about now, he couldn’t let his mixed perception of Sharrya get in the way of their safety.

“Now we can go,” Andreas said, handing Torres his rifle back as he brushed passed, the rest of the team waiting by the exit. “You have my thanks, all of you,” he added. “I didn’t think I was going to get out of that shitshow alive.”

“We’re not out of it just yet,” Torres said. “Still have to get back to the Rallypoint. On me, squad, let’s get the Seargent and his cargo out of here.”

-xXx-

It was only after a half hour’s walk that the Corporal felt safe to slow it down, the tall walls of the back alleys providing a modicum of security as the squad took refuge between the buildings. One of the soldiers passed him a canteen, Andreas thanking him as he leaned against the wall and unscrewed the cap.

“With respect, Sarge, you look like a dead man walking,” Torres commented once Andreas flipped up his visor. “But considering what you’ve been through, I’m not judging.”

“When you’re jacked up on appetite suppressants, stimulants, and enough caffeine to fill up a bucket, I’d doubt you’d look pretty either,” Andreas replied. He could almost feel the bags under his eyes weighing on his face. It was a good thing there wasn’t a mirror around.

“Back when we sent expeditions into the city, we had to hammer entire districts with artillery just so patrols could have a clear space to walk through,” Torres said. “I don’t know how on Earth you survived out here.”

“I could ask the same thing to you,” Andreas replied. “Nearly every country in in Europe is gone, so how are you guys still operating?”

“We were spared the worst of the invasion,” Torres explained. “The first portals started in the north. UK, Norway, Denmark. While Hell dealt with them, it gave us and the local UAC brass time to prepare, as horrible as that sounds. By the time they swept south, we had almost everybody evacuated, and a defensive strategy in place. Are we really all that’s left?” Torres pressed. “Word from the outside is hard to get as you can imagine, and Command doesn’t tell us much. Is all of Spain… gone?”

The rest of the squad was looking at him intently, Andreas taking a sip before replying.

“If your Command is keeping you in the dark, it’s for a reason,” he said. “But you deserve a straight answer. I wasn’t told much either, but I’ll say this, ever since we arrived off the coast a couple weeks back, we’ve been sending broadcasts out on all frequencies every hour, every day. You’re the only ones who’ve answered.”

“Shit…” Torres muttered. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Andreas added. “ARC has several smaller flotillas in the Mediterranean. There’s a chance they managed to fly some people out of here before we came in.”

His words seemed to put Torres and his squad more at ease. These people had been trapped in Spain for a long while, bad news was something they were able to take.

“What’s the status of the Rallypoint?” Andreas asked, changing the subject.

“Morale was at an all-time low. We’ve been living off canned food for months now, and rationings made it worse. When your section came in with relief supplies, it helped, but after we heard that one of your ships didn’t make it, we assumed the worst. Without those Shards, all we could do was sit there and wait for the demons to starve us out.”

“Then pow, one of the gore nests goes up in flames,” another of the solders continued. “That really was your doing, sir?”

“Who else would it be, numb nuts?” Torres asked. “But yeah, some of your men said it had to be you, and it looks like they were right. I think spirits among the men will surge once you get back there with those Shards.”

“Then we’ve got no time to lose,” Andreas said, tossing the soldier his canteen and straightening up. “How far until we get there? I’m about through with this city.”

“It’s an hours’ walk, maybe two,” Torres replied. “Sir, with respect, you should take a breather. God knows you need it.”

“I’ll have plenty of time to breath once I’m inside this fortress I keep hearing about,” Andreas said. Torres conceded, nodding for his squad to collect their gear and get back on their feet.

“It’s this way,” Torres said, walking out of the alley and pointing a finger to the left. “Since you’re the ranking officer, I defer squad lead to you, Sarge.”

“You won’t defer anything, Corporal,” Andreas said, shaking his head. “You’re not ARC, I’ve no authority over you or your men. Besides, this is your country, you should lead the way.”

“Oh. All right then, Sarge,” Torres said, surprised by his answer. “If you could take up the rear, we’ll be travelling in line formation.”

The squad followed the Corporal out onto the street, each man keeping a few feet of distance from each other, Andreas filing out after them and watching the team’s back. It felt good to be surrounded by his fellow mortals again, that sense of safety in numbers calming his boiling nerves.

Tens of minute passed without demonic interruption, and while Torres and the some of the squad commented on the situation, Andreas kept to himself. He had a pretty strong idea why the demons were leaving them alone, as they had bigger fish to fry – said fish being a certain Baroness. He’d seen a few isolated cases of infighting, but that was only between the lesser demons, like zombies or cacodemons, but he’d never seen a Baron being challenged like that before. He knew she was skilled, but could she handle the numerous amounts of imps he’d seen since the crash?

Andreas chuckled inside his helmet. Was he concerned for her? For all the grief she’d caused him, all the chasing and the teasing, it’d be a shame if she went out when he was just starting to get to know her.

“What are you laughing at?” Eva demanded, her sudden voice startling him.

“Oh, hey Eva. It’s just the way the Corporal talked about me just now,” he explained. “You’d think I’d be the Slayer or something, coming in and lifting everyone’s hopes with these Shards.”

“There’s a key difference between you and the Slayer,” Eva pointed out. “He kills demons, while you stand around and have a chat with them.”

“Here we go…” Andreas sighed, bracing himself.

“It’s bad enough that you continued to discuss your personal life with a Baron of Hell, after I told you the dangers, mind. Hell forbid you show a shred of concern for your safety after your capture.”

“Look, I-”

“Oh, but then it gets better! Just when we’re about to escape, you have the sudden urge to turn around and give said Baron a helping hand! Why did you not shoot her instead? Or better yet, let the rest of the demons solve the problem for us?”

“What’s done is done, Eva, what matters now is we get to the Rallypoint.”

“Oh, no no no, you’re not brushing this one off. You can walk and talk. Explain to me why you’re so… obsessed with her?”

“She’s a demon that likes to talk,” he said, feigning indifference. “That’s enough to spark my interest. Yours too, right?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she works for the most evil entity humanity has ever witnessed! Or is this Baron not like other demons, is that what you’re getting at?”

“In some ways, yeah,” he agreed. “You’ve been there every step of the way, you’ve seen how unique she is. She could have killed me a dozen times over, but she didn’t. Hell, she even saved me from that imp. And when she said they were justified in betraying her, and wasn’t trying to kill them… Since when have you seen a demon show mercy? It’s unheard of.”

“You don’t… You don’t respect her, do you?” Eva asked, as though she was accusing him of murder.

“Well, I think it’s one of the things I like about her.”

Eva didn’t reply, and when the silence dragged on, Andreas reached up to tap his helmet.

“Hey, you good in there, Eva?”