Doom Story Update

2k words

***

Steeling himself, Andreas quickened his pace, giving the Baroness a wide berth as he entered her vision, making sure she saw him coming. She met his eyes briefly before looking back between her hoofs, a troubled look on her face. His comment must have done more than stung, his guilt rising an octave.

“Oi, Sharrya, hold on a sec.”

“Prisoners do not dictate Hell’s pace,” the Baroness grumbled, Andreas taking his spot by her side. He could literally feel her anger coming off her skin, like she were a walking radiator.

“Look, what I said just then, that was out of line, and I want to apologise, clear the air between us. What do you say?”

“I’d say… that’s it?” Sharrya replied. “You must really be dense if you think that counts as clearing the air.”

“Look, I know I can be an asshole sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Okay, all the time, but what happened just then was low, even for me. I know kids can be pretty cruel when they want to be,” he added, Sharrya returning her vision to the ground. “I know because, my brother used to get picked on a lot when he was little. Every time he came home crying was… it was tough.”

“And did you taunt him to make him feel better?”

“No, I got him snacks. Real unhealthy snacks, like this.”

He reached into his pack, and fished out one of his MRE’s, producing one of the packets inside. He unwrapped the desert packet, and held its contents up to her.

“What is… that?” she asked, quirking a brow.

“Choc-chip cookies,” he explained. “Go on, try one.”

“You think you can offer me, a Baroness of Hell, discretionary, processed sweets as a form of apology?”

“I guarantee you’ve never had one of these before.”

“I’ve never had a prisoner bargain with sugar and fat before, either. But I’ll indulge you.”

She plucked the cookies from his hand, and stuffed them between her tusks. As she chewed, he expression lifted just a fraction, and after a thoughtful pause she swallowed. “Is that all you did to comfort your brother?”

“I also told him that his bullies were cowards. And they were jealous of him because he was the bigger man. And Sharrya, you are the bigger man. Uh, woman,” he corrected. “While they were always gossiping about your shortcoming as a kid, you plunged straight into the Peaks horns-first, made a name for yourself. They probably called you all sorts of things, but you’re the biggest, baddest bitch I know.”

“Really?” she asked. “You mean that?”

“Sure! If those Baron’s could see how much you’ve bounced back from when you singed your claws, they wouldn’t be laughing anymore. Trust me, I know firsthand how much your fireballs hurt nowadays.”

That got a chuckle out of the demoness, her large hand swinging down to clap him on the back.

“You have a strange, roundabout way of apologising. Strangely sweet, like your cookies.”

“Don’t worry, I still think you’re a pink cunt deep down.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less. Now hand over the rest of your sweets, and I may just consider forgiving you.”

He had her try a jelly donut next, the demon having this look of horror on her face once she discovered the pocket of strawberry. She made to spit it out, but after a quick explanation, she discovered she quite enjoyed the taste. Who would have thought demons could have a sweet tooth.

“I wish to apologise as well,” she said, licking her claws clean of any pastry residue. Her tongue must have been as long as his arm, the muscle the same shade of red as her skin. “The dead do not deserve criticism from the living, and it’s unwise to draw their ire by any means.”

“You don’t come off as a spiritual sort,” Andreas noted.

“I’m not. On one of the worlds I invaded, every creature living there had the ability to resurrect. I do not know if it was something in the air or the planet itself was responsible, but unless we destroyed their limbs or heads, they would just get right up again. Since then I’ve always been leery of unlife.”

“Wow that’s… fucking horrifying.”

“I told you I’d seen some horrors in my time.”

“Well, nightmare realms aside, I think we both said some bad shit ack there. I’m willing to forget if you are.”

He extended his hand, moving in front of Sharrya so she had to stop. They were only a dozen odd meters from the bottom of the ramp, Andreas hoping he wasn’t about to get caught in the blast of a landmine.

“What are you doing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. Did she suspect something was amiss? No, she was directing her attention to his outstretched hand.

“It’s called a handshake. Pretty self-explanatory. It’s what we humans do when two parties come to an agreement.”

“Hmm. Alright.”

She took his smaller hand in her massive one, Andreas summoning all his strength to pump her arm. Her hand was as hot as a stove top, just barely tolerable as the tips of her claws brushed his forearm. Her hand was big enough to encompass his whole head and pop it like a grape, yet she held his arm with a gentleness that surprised him.

Noting that he was staring, he broke the silence with a question. “So, bygones?”

“Bygones,” she agreed, a silent pause passing through as he looked up at her, the demon blinking her eyes once. Whether this was all an act to get her distracted, or an actual attempt to apologise for being an ass, even Andreas didn’t know. But Sharrya bought it either way.

“Enough!”

Andreas and Sharrya turned as one towards the speaker, their joined hands slowly falling away to their sides. Andreas expected some crazed marine to be responsible for the interruption, but the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

An imp had severed from the circling pack of demons, pointing a defiant claw up at the Baroness. If snakes could talk, Andreas imagined their accents would be a lot like his, the imp gnashing his teeth before he spoke.

“Gah! Enough coddling the mortal, let’s eat him!”

“There will be no eating you imbecile,” Sharrya sighed, her green eyes rolling. “I want this mortal alive, remember?”

“Nnnn… what is point?” the imp snarled, flecks of spit flying as it turned its attention to Andreas. “Alive, dead, man-flesh still the same taste.”

“The point is that I said so,” Sharrya replied, surprising Andreas by taking a protective step in front of him. “When I want something dead, it dies, when I want something alive, it breathes. I don’t expect your feeble mind to understand such complicated logistics, but remember who it is you are addressing, minion.”

“The Maykyrs never talked of capturing mortals,” the demon replied through clicks of its fangs. “Only consummation.”

“The Maykyrs hold no control over you. I do,” Sharrya snarled, sweeping her gaze at the rest of the imps. They had all stopped, Andreas experiencing a sense of déjà vu as they ogled him. At least this time he had someone to share the attention.

“As far as any of you are concerned, when you patrol my theatre, consume my souls, then I am your sole sovereign,” Sharrya added. “You will do what I tell you, when I tell you. Now march, or suffer the consequences.”

“Suffer, like he does?” the imp asked, his beady eyes tracking Andreas. “You pamper him. You talk with him, laugh at him, eat his things and touch his hands! You’ve brought more harm to us than you have to him!”

“Uh, crazy horns?” Andreas asked, looking behind him. “I think you’re losing the crowd.”

Some of the imps were hollering their agreement, some were daring to walk closer, but Sharrya’s burning gaze was like an invisible spotlight, brushing the encroaching imps back where ever she looked.

“You let him walk over us,” the imp continued. “You let him kill us, and now you let it live? You’ve become weak in the face of one mortal!”

“And you’ve become delusional in the face of your own stupidity,” Sharrya snapped back. “I warn you now, all of you,” she added, her attention flicking to her rear. “Obey me now and I will forget this transgression. Mutiny against me will be your last mistake.”

“If one mortal could best you, why not us?” the imp remarked, taking a pointed step forward. “Always wondered what taste Baron flesh has…”

“You’ll die never knowing, cretin.”

“Can’t you control your own damned men?” Andreas demanded, backing up towards her right leg, her presence the one comfort against the gathering demons. Andreas loved irony. “Give me my weapons.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Andreas, I passed your guns off to one of them.”

Cursing, Andreas snacked between the feet of the imps, spotting a glint of white metal after a few moments. His weapons were discarded on the hood of a car, right in the midst of the imps.

“There!” he said. “I’m going to go for them, cover me.”

“Who am I, you’re bootlick? Cover yourself, Andreas, I have my own damn problems.”

He made to retort, but he was interrupted by the talkative imp voicing a cry, leaping onto a car and throwing himself into the air. His long claws were held out wide, throwing them over his head in preparation for a swing.

His arc would have brought him right down on Andreas’ head, but Sharrya plucked him out of the air, wrapping her claws around his throat. She positioned the choking imp over her shoulder, posing like a shot-putter. She cast him off like he weighed no more than a toy, the imp sailing clean over the pack to land somewhere out of view.

The rest of the demons were undeterred, two more imps marching forward with claws raised. Sharrya made to deck one across the chin, but he ducked below the blow, his counterpart moving in to her blindspot.

As he raised his claws to strike, Andreas stepped in, grabbing the imp’s shoulders and delivering a swift headbutt. The dazed imp stumbled back, Andreas swiping the legs out from beneath him, the imp crashing to the floor. A hard kick to the head, and the demon stopped moving.

He turned to see Sharrya finishing off the first demon, tossing him away just like she had with the other. She shot him a strange look as she noticed the unconscious imp nearby, her expression morphing into surprise as her eyes flicked up.

“Behind you!”

Andreas turned, but too late, a purple and red demon slamming into his front. His back compressed against the pavement as the imp put all its weight on him, pinning one of his arms beneath the heel of its foot.

He swiped out with his free hand, but the imp blocked with its forearm, his claws curling over his armoured wrist. Andreas growled as the imp applied pressure, giving his limb a painful wrench to the side. Spittle hit his visor in droplets as the imp voiced something between a snarl and a cackle, stabbing a claw straight through his shoulder pad.

Andreas felt warm blood dribble down his arm, trying to wrestle free of the demon, but his arms were pinned tight. He tried raising his legs to kick it off, but his knees flailed uselessly against its back, another slice across his chest dragging Andreas into a daze.

Without leverage, struggling was useless, the imp was just too heavy. As he began to despair, a pink hand entered from the top of his vision, seizing the imp by the collar.

The imp lifted away, Sharrya pressing her snout up against its beady face. She brought up her knee, connecting her furred leg to its nose. There was a crunch, and the imp relaxed in her grip, Sharrya tossing him aside as she smirked at Andreas.

“Looks like you owe me your life,” Sharrya mused, taking him by the shoulder. “Up.”

He staggered to his feet, brushing her hand away as he turned towards the rest of the demons. “I had that.”

“Oh yes, you were a real beacon of defiance from where I was standing.”

More imps were clustering around her flank, the Baroness turning to meet them. Like a pet owner plucking a disobedient cat, she grabbed two of the oncoming imps, her giant muscles bulging as she thrashed their heads together.

Andreas picked up a loose piece of detritus and chucked it at the third, the demon crumpling as the stone cracked its skull. Sharrya began to circle on the spot, her horns cutting through the air as she watched her angles.

“Woah, nice pitch,” Sharrya commented. “Since you can’t handle yourself without a weapon of some kind, here, catch.”

Her hook flicked, and the bumper of a car flew in his direction, Andreas snagging it with both hands. He stepped in behind the demoness, countering her circling as he wielded the piece of metal like a club.

“Can’t believe I’m fighting with a deranged demon all of a sudden,” Andreas mumbled.

“Don’t you admire the change of pace?” Sharrya quipped. “The spice of life is variety, after all.”

“Fuck you and your spice. Just burn a hole through these guys before they burn us.”

“No.”

“What? No? Why the Hell not?”

“These are my servants,” she answered, pausing to drive her hoof into an incoming imp, the demon trailing away like a swatted insect. “I will not kill those who have sworn to me.”

“Look dickhead, I don’t know if you noticed, but they’re not taking orders from you anymore.”

“And they are justified in doing so,” Sharrya said. “If I was unsatisfied with my leader, I would rebel too. Regardless, they have served me faithfully up to now, they do not deserve death as punishment.”

“Oh, so now you’re all about morals and mercy?” Andreas complained. “I wish you’d done that before invading my planet.”