Doom Story Update

2k words

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“Stringy, hot, like overdone chicken.”

“As is everything according to you humans. I don’t imagine the nutrient content was sufficient. You should stop and fix that.”

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “In a minute. Need to get through that first.”

He gestured towards his north, the wide street walled off to one side by a hedge. Before him stretched a city block, but unlike all the rest, the cold metal streets had given way to trees and vegetation, winding cobble paths leading through what had once been a park.

Using park in the past tense was being kind. The city was in ruins, but the demonic invasion had not been kind to this place in its razing. The ponds had been dried up, replaced with bubbling pools of tar or maybe oil, the trees turned to crooked poles of ash.

The knee-high hedges and bushels were void of leaves, but the trimmings created just enough of a barrier to break up the sightlines, the land cultivate by its architects to create natural pathways and walls. A few decorative monuments and fountains could be seen from here, Andreas struggling to imagine how pretty this place must have been before the endtimes. Trying to simply recall colours was becoming an increasingly difficult task.

“You want to press on through there?” Eva asked. “Why not stop now?”

“That Baron’s still out here. If she’s following me, I’ll lose her through there.”

He took a wide step over the hedge, concrete giving way to dirt as he passed into the reserve. The tress still standing to either side of the path were cooked and stiff, their branches shading what little light pierced the roiling clouds.

He followed one of the twisting walkways deeper into the park, the stone chipped and ruined, writhing creepers poking up through the cracks. Like the ones on the buildings, these vines were blood-red and covered in little thorns, as though some nightmarish plant had uprooted from the world below. Andreas could have sworn the roots wriggled away from his presence whenever he stepped near them.

After a few minutes, Andreas could almost fool himself into thinking he’d stepped into another world, one of dead plants and alien flora competing for space, only the distant tops of buildings giving the illusion away that this was Earth, or what was still left of it. Even the grass had turned to a brownish red colour, a sight he never seemed to get used to. He glanced up at the sky, the heavens dim, despite his HUD telling him it was early afternoon. The skies were still blue over the oceans, but the rainless thunderheads seemed to concentrate over the landmasses to block the sunshine - a result from the suffocating rituals of Hell’s numberless worshippers, some said.

If he failed to save the people at the Rallypoint, if ARC should fail, the whole world would look like this…

A feature up ahead pulled him out of his thoughts, the tiered face of a wall looming in the distance. It was a building, or at least what was left of one. Its guts had been obliterated, with only a third of the brickwork still remaining, Andreas seeing more of the park through its windows.

The ruin was conjoined to the road by a flight of steps, the structure built upon a small hill. Two hedges of those putrid vines flanked the slope, which should provide a modicum of cover from any prowling eyes.

“Should be far enough away now,” Andreas mused, planting himself upon the first step, resting his rifle by his feet. “Haven’t seen a single demon. How about you, Eva?”

“Scans are clean,” she answered. “Troubling.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“They haven’t been clear since we were airborne. The mortally challenged aren’t exactly the live and forget type. The fact they’ve suddenly left us alone worries me.”

“As is the usual,” he muttered, sliding off his helmet and placing it beside him.

“I heard that,” quipped the AI, switching to the helmet’s external speakers. You could do with a slice of caution, Seargent. There’s only so much I can do to keep you out of the fire.”

“I think you’ve got that the other way around,” Andreas replied. “Who’s being carried around like royalty, you or me?”

“And who’s the angel on your shoulder calling in strafing runs and watching your back?”

“Touché, Eva.”

“You need me just as much as I need you. And right now, I need you to eat something.”

Andreas raised his hands in sarcastic surrender, slinging off his back, the movement irritating his chest. “Could you at least do something about these marks?” he asked. “They’re starting to itch.”

“Your suit has solutions packed with enough healing stimulants to resuscitate a dead man, but your vitals are within acceptable parameters. Not using those yet.”

“Why not?”

“They’re for emergencies. They can get you back on your feet, but even a few milligrams runs the risk of an OD. You can’t carry me around like a proverbial palanquin with destroyed kidneys or a stopped heart. You can live with a few bruises.”

Andreas grumbled about how she didn’t know what it was like having a body, but dropped the subject – she monitored his vitals all the time, she’d know better than him.

He fished out one of his MRE’s, opening it to let the smell of fresh meat rise from the paper bag. He shifted aside the ration heater in search of the main course, too impatient to spend the time setting up the heating element just yet.

His fingers touched something wrapped in foil, Andreas opening it up, finding a beef burrito within. He’d brushed off Eva’s suggestions to eat before, but now his appetite was all he could think about, his stomach grumbling its approval as he took a wet bite.

It took all of thirty seconds to finish it off, Eva chiming in as he delved into the packet for more, a smile on her voice. “Better than the imp sirloin, right?”

“Much,” he agreed.

There was an energy drink in the package too, Andreas taking a sip as he considered his next move. The rest of the section had made it to the Rallypoint, would they go through with the mission without him? He had the Argent shards, their recovery could mean the difference between success or failure, though getting bogged down by all these demons was making the task longer and more arduous. Perhaps Eva could get them to send out a squad to help?

“Hey, Eva,” he started. “You have contact with the-”

“Hold that thought, Seargent,” Eva said, cutting him off. “I’m picking up something. West.”

Andreas dropped the can, picking up his rifle and bracing it against his shoulder, peering out over the park. All he heard was the creaking of the dead branches, but after a few seconds, something else joined the tumult, the sound of hooves clopping against cobble unmistakable.

“Put me on,” Eva said. Without looking, Andreas grabbed the helmet and slid it over his head, the gear sealing to his suit with a hiss. Eva pulled up a motion sensor in the corner of his HUD, several red pings splitting up and making a circle around his position. He could see flickers of movement through the ferns, but they hung just out of sight, wary of getting within range his weapon.

They were cutting off any escape, that much was obvious, but they’re tactics seemed unusual. Most demons didn’t care for caution or strategy, that ability laid within only the elite-class of fiends. That meant…

Andreas took a step into the open, rifle at the ready as he waited for the demons to make their move. One of the pings soon drew closer, and Andreas caught a bright shade of red enter his vision, those clopping hooves growing louder.

The mass rounded the bulk of a decaying tree, two blazing green eyes fixing on him. It was the Baron, her developed body rippling with muscle as she stalked towards him. Despite her sheer size, there was an alluring ease to which she carried herself, the way she planted one hoof in front of the other bringing to mind images of models striding down runways, her hips tilting with each step.

He shifted when he noted all her wounds were gone, her arm and flank spotless save for a few scabbing marks. Just how fast could demons regenerate? It was like the whole strafe had completely missed her.

He could feel her presence on some instinctual level, a sense of primal terror folding over him the closer she walked. She paused a short distance away, peeling her cherry lips back to expose the wick fangs lining her jaw.

“There you are, morsel,” she said, her voice as powerful as it was feminine. “Having yourself a little rest, are you? You’re either confident, or a fool, or both.”

“You again?” Andreas replied, trying to mask his fear behind disinterest. Just as he did with Eva. “How’d you find me?”

“Were you not listening? I told you, your precious country is my territory now, nothing goes on here without my knowing of it.”

“You didn’t know your nest was going to be history,” he pointed out. He intended it as an insult, but it brushed right off her horns, the Baron flashing him an uncomfortably warm smile.

“I like you, Andreas. Which is why I’m going to give you a swift death. After you tell me where I can find your compatriots, and what their plans are, of course.”

“Our only plan is to send you cunts back to Hell, miss…?” He feigned embarrassment, gesturing at her with his gun. “Woops, don’t think I caught your name yet. Too busy eating bullets if I recall.”

The demon straightened her back, pressing out her conspicuous bust in the process and putting even more stress on her sling. How’d she even fit into that thing?

“I am Sharrya, Baron of Hell, Mistress of the Black Peaks and commander of a hundred legions. You have the pleasure of being addressed by Hell’s finest.”

“Honoured as I am, bitch of hell,” Andreas replied. “I’m on a timetable, so can we move this along? Or do your boys need some more time to get into position?”

“Perceptive – for a mortal,” she added, sweeping her gaze somewhere to the side. “Then again, imps aren’t known for their discretion, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“So why are we still talking?” he pressed. “Come to offer your surrender?”

“No, I’ve come to get yours. Tell me how you managed to be such a nuisance to my empire, and I won’t boil you alive.”

“I’ll be dead before I help you out, sheep-legs.”

“That can be arranged.”

Without warning the Baron, Sharrya, charged across the crimson grass, fangs parting to release a demonic roar. Andreas squeezed the trigger, waving his rifle like it was a flamethrower, hosing the oncoming demon with tens of bolts a second. She crossed her giant forearms over her head, the superheated bullets splashing off her bright skin. He aimed lower, the demon grunting as he riddled her exposed gut with plasma.

She didn’t slow down despite this, Andreas throwing himself out of the way as she bore down on him, swiping her meat-hook claws through the space he’d just been standing in, her hooves skidding as she stopped herself. Andreas darted in, driving the stock of his rifle into her side. He heard her snarl in pain far above him, and he went to strike her again, but the demon was faster, retaliating with a savage backhand against his chest.

He felt his feet leave the ground as he was sent flying back, his weapon flying form his hand. He rolled to a stop a good five meters away, his head bouncing against his helmet to leave him in a daze. Blinking through bleary eyes, Andreas looked up to see the Baron stalking closer, a low chuckle escaping her lips as he righted himself.

“On second thought, you can have the stims,” Eva said.

Andreas felt a pinprick on his wrists, then on the underside of his forearms, the Seargent wincing as his skin was punctured. Several hypodermic needles were built into the inlining of his suit that could deliver medication or combat stimulants straight into his system, the suit designed to keep its user going for as long as they were able.  

Andreas felt his energy reserves surge, feeling more awake than ever, and he leapt to his feet, the Baron tilting her head as he reached for his bowie knife. Putting on a show, he flourished the blade as he withdrew it from the scabbard, pointing the razor edge up at the demon.

“You can hit me harder than that, Baron? Holding out on me?”

“As a matter of fact, I was,” she growled. “But, if you insist on a quick bout…”

She curled a hand into a fist, driving it with enough force to knock his head clean off his shoulders, but Andreas sidestepped the blow, slicing his knife along her limb. Dark blood seeped from the wound, contrasting against her red skin.

Snorting like a bull, the demon doubled over in an attempt to grab him, but Andreas darted beneath her arms, feeling wind whistle past his helmet in a near miss. He delivered a swift kick to her knee in the hopes of collapsing her, but her leg was like iron beneath that brown coat, and all it did was cause her to stumble, the demon backing off to keep him at arms-length.

“Slippery little roach, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice so level she could have been discussing the weather with him. “No wonder you evaded my legions so easily.”

She lashed out at him, Andreas dodging the blow, taking advantage to slice her across the elbow. He went to aim for something more vital, but the Baron intercepted him with a knee to the stomach. The air left him in a guttural snarl, his back hitting the sloping stairs he’d just been resting upon.

The demon rushed him, lifting one of her meaty legs up, anlgin the roof directly at his face. Andreas rolled out of the way, her foot slamming hard enough that it cracked through two of the steps before stopping.

Andreas scrambled to his feet, backing up until he was roughly eye-level with the demon, holding his knife in two hands. She took one step up the stairs, and Andreas took one back, waiting for her to make the next move.

“Oh, how long it’s been since I’ve felt the sting of a cut,” Sharrya breathed, holding her injured arms out, letting the blood drip between her hooves.