Doom Story Update

2k words

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“I’m handling it,” he replied, his tone nonchalant as he fired off a burst of his plasma rifle, mowing down a group of zombies on his flank. He was working his way through the lot one group of undead at a time, using the cars to block off his blind spots and create distance. A handful of imps lingered near the edge of the ravine, tossing wild fireballs in his direction, their aim inaccurate at this distance.

Andreas cut down the last pair of zombies in his immediate vicinity, then turned to scale the nearest car, the chassis creaking as he vaulted onto the roof. Like Eva had said, more hordes of the undead were pouring into the lot, using their collective mass to bend the wire fence over in places.

As he wound through the column of vehicles, using their roofs to take potshots at the incoming hordes, a peculiar sensation making him tense up. A blanket of dread draped over his shoulders, the sensation causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end. The air temperature plummeted, his instincts warning him he should not turn around, but Andreas never listened to them even at the best of times.

He looked over his shoulder to see a portal forming on the far side of the ravine. Much like the one hovering over the nest, it’s shape was of a giant ball, full of darkness that swirled with the occasional red tendril, like a pot of ink had been spiked with a drop of blood. It was as big as the face of a semi-trailer, and as he peered into that egregious visage, something peered back, a shape emerging from its confines.

Its profile was of a humanoid of massive proportions, around nine feet from head to toe, or horn to hoof in this case, one of the biggest demon’s he’d ever seen stepping into reality before his eyes.

A heavy clock of hooves accompanied the demon as it stepped onto the ruined pavement, so heavy he could feel the impact even from here. The black hoofs were tipping a pair of jointed legs, calves and thighs as big as his torso covered in a luscious coat of brown fur. Next came the torso, the fur giving way to red skin at the waist, a simple leather loincloth looped by a chain dangling between its goat-like legs. The stomach was bare, revealing an impressive set of abs that even Greek statues couldn’t compare, the powerful core complimented by the wide curve of a mountainous set of hips.

Her torso splayed out to the width of a door as it neared the chest, and this was indeed a her, a pair of monumental breasts merging through the portal next. They were as big as his pack and just as voluminous, yet they seemed fitting on such a massive creature, their teardrop shape complimented by their firmness. More metal chain links hung from her muscular shoulders, serving to hold up a colourless sling that wrapped across her shapely bust, the cloth leaving an enticing slice of underboob exposed, the sight distracting Andreas from his fear for one shameless moment.

Last came the face, and to Andreas she looked like a cross between a human and a bull, the comparison furthered by the pair of dark horns protruding from the top of her skull. Two carnivore tusks jutted from her bottom lip, yet her features weren’t entirely brutish. A snout like that of a cow’s rested above her toothy maw, a silver piercing looping through the nostrils. The shape of her eyes was somewhat familiar, a pair of striking green eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

Andreas shouldered his rifle reflexively, but it seemed the demon hadn’t noticed him yet, turning its bright gaze on the nearest imp. She barked out a few words that were lost on the air, the lesser demon shrinking in on itself as it weathered her verbal storm. When she at last let him answer, the imp mumbled something and raised a claw in Andreas’ direction.

This new demon seemed unimpressed with the imp’s answer, if her seizing it by the head, and tossing him down the deep ravine was any indication of the fact. The imp hollered and screeched as it tumbled down the rocky slope and out of sight, the she-demon snorting through her wide nostrils in disgust. She lifted her gaze, a chill running down Andreas’ spine as she set her sights on him.

“On second thought,” Andreas said. “I’ll take that airstrike.”

“So there is logical reasoning under that thick skull,” Eva muttered, her tone a mix of sarcasm and relief. “Good to see the appearance of a Baron is where you draw the line.”

Andreas double-timed his exit from the lot, making his way towards the boom gates sectioning off the street. He dispatched another zombie on his way, hearing a wordless shout echo from behind him, its source obvious enough. Andreas had watched video feeds of Barons of Hell, but until today he’d never been so close to one. They were part of the more elite servants of the infernal legions, shocktroopers that could withstand tank shells, and usually deployed in pairs. His stunt had pissed off more of the demonic hierarchy than he first realised.

He ducked beneath the boom gate, panting into his helmet as he dashed up the clogged street. A voice crackled to life in his helmet as he dipped onto the footpath, the calm tone of what must be his air support coming through his helmet speakers.

“This is Shrike two-two, targeting request confirmed. Keep em’ painted for me. ETA two mikes, copy?”

“Loud and clear, over,” Eva replied. “Seargent,” she added. “I can use the sensor suite on your helmet to designate the Baron for the pilot. All you have to do is keep facing it.”

Andreas spared another backward glance, seeing the Baron following in his footsteps, barrelling through the boomgate rather than vault over them, hooves skidding on the pavement. She kicked an automobile out of her way like it was a potted plant, striding up the street after him with a pace reminiscent of a Sunday’s walk. She raised a four fingered hand in his direction, her arms so muscular he could make out veins as big as straws. At her behest, a pack of imps trailing after her charged, swarming by her feet to give chase, her presence rallying the demons.

“Come strafe this big bitch, pilot,” Andreas said, using his wrist-computer to transmit the Baron’s position, rounding the corner of the building as he did. Several fireballs streaked down the road after him, grazing the tops of cars by scant inches.

“Coordinates received. Target ‘big bitch’ confirmed,” the pilot replied.

“Keep her in your sights as much as you can,” Eva advised. “And stay at MSD this time. Not even you could handle the collateral damage from a thirty millimetre.”

The alleyways and backstreets here were demon-free, which would make finding an escape route an easy matter, but Andreas wasn’t ready to turn tail just yet. When he was a comfortable distance down the road, he turned about, searching for a spot to hole up for a stand. Knocking out a gore nest and a Baron on the same day didn’t just happen to everyone, and he’d be doing mother Earth a disservice if he didn’t take the chance to give Hell two swift kicks to the pants.

There was an overturned bus just off the side of the road, a sedan crumpled against its hood suggesting there’d been a collision. That would make a good place to overlook the street from higher ground, Andreas scaling the car, then pulling one leg up onto the bus. The metal groaned as he took a knee near the front wheel, reaching for his belt once he double checked he was clear.

There was a scope hooked to his rigging, Andreas taking it and flipping it the right way around. He slid it onto the rail of his plasma rifle, then took aim, fixing the glowing reticle on the far side of the street. The corner was blind, and if the Baron and her imps still assumed he was on the run, they’d run right into his kill box.

Soon enough, the imps came charging down the intersection, rasping and cackling. Andreas was maybe fifty meters out, but the scope brought him right up to their grimacing faces, and he sent a solitary bolt downrange, hitting the lead imp with a lethal headshot.

The rest of the imps scattered, half a dozen of them taking refuge behind cars or walls, occasionally poking their beady eyes out to search for him. Andreas exhaled as he fired off another shot, hitting an imp as it tried to dash into one of the buildings lining the street, burning a hole clean through its chest.

This time, his plasma stream gave his position away, several of the imps hurling fireballs his way, laying down their fiery version of cover fire. Andreas got down on his belly, taking another potshot, this one missing as it sailed over the head of an advancing demon. These imps were smarter than the zombies, coordinating with each other through wordless hisses and snapping teeth, using the car wrecks for cover.

Flames splashed against the bus as the imps leaned in and out of sight, Andreas rolling out of the way as a fireball blazed through the spot he’d just been lying on. He switched his plasma gun back to automatic, hosing a car wreck down with the rest of his cell, bright sparks flying from the points of impact. The slagged metal caught on the imp crouched behind it, the creature wailing as it dropped to the pavement with a shard poking from its shoulder, Andreas ending its suffering with a bolt to the head.

He tossed the empty cell to the ground below, catching something red enter his field of view. The Baroness had turned onto the street, her skin as bright as a chilli pepper, shoving a car out of her way with a grunt. A small transparent box appeared on his HUD, fixing itself over her massive profile. That must be Eva’s targeting suite linking the Baron’s location to the pilot.

The imps took advantage of his reload to sprint full-kilter up the road, the closest of them approaching the bus from the left. He sent it keeling over with a well-timed bolt shot, the plasma melting through its skin, the tough creature trying to get back up despite the chunk in its stomach.

Something heavy landed on the bus, Andreas wheeling round to see an imp had leapt the ten feet like it was nothing. It dashed across the length of the bus, zig-zagging as it went, raising a purple arm to slash at his chest.

Too late to shoot it, Andreas waited for it to get close, then smashed its temple with the butt of his rifle, feeling the heavy impact travel up his arms. The imp backed off in a daze, Andreas putting it down with two bolts to the chest.

He heard talons clicking on metal, turning to see another of the demons climbing into the cabin, lowering to a crouch before pouncing on him. He tried to angle his rifle, but too late, the demon latching into his shoulders, the collision sending the both of them tumbling off the bus. The imp was clinging to his behind like a monkey, forcing Andreas to take the brunt of the fall, his chest slamming into the street and knocking the air out of his lungs.

Andreas blinked his daze clear, swiping at the imp with his elbow, feeling a satisfying crunch as his ceramic plating caught it on the jaw. He rolled against the stunned demon, reversing their positions and pinning the creature to the ground, unsheathing his bowie knife as it struggled against his weight. He plunged his knife into the back of its skull, ceasing its movements.

The remaining imp revealed itself through a shriek, Andreas glancing up to see it charging him down. Its hand broiling with fire, it flung its arm out, a pocket of flame the size of a softball hitting Andreas square in the chest, a flare of panic coursing through him as intense heat splashed his armour.

He searched frantically for his rifle, seeing it laying nearby. He lunged for it, but the imp kicked it away, stepping in and decking him across the chin with a spiked fist. His helmet saved him from the brunt of the blow, but his head bounced painfully against it nevertheless.

The creature darted in, seizing Andreas’ throat in a grapple, the sergeant feeling the pressure tighten around his neck as the demon slipped its fingers between the joints of his chest plate. He punched the thing in the gut, but the imp’s grip only tightened, a smile splitting its razor teeth as it leered at him.

“Seargent,” the pilot interjected, his voice paradoxically calm despite the circumstances. “I keep losing your target, I need a steady bead, copy?”

“Sorry, flyboy, I guess I forgot my gyroscope,” Andreas snarled, the corners of his vision darkening as he was drained for air. Remembering the knife, he sank the blade into the imp’s ribs, giving it a pointed twist. He shoved the gurgling imp away, feeling wonderful air fill his lungs again as its claws retracted.

His knife trailed viscera as the imp pulled itself off his blade, but despite the grievous wound, the imp made to come at him again, but Andreas was ready this time. He ducked beneath a swing of its claws, ramming his knife home in the same spot again. The imp’s own momentum forced the blade in deep, the glinting edge poking out of its backside, Andreas grimacing as he felt wet gore on his glove.

The demon crumpled against his front, slowly going limp as it bled out. A guttural cry rang out from the other end of the street, Andreas frowning as he looked over the demon’s shoulder, spotting another dozen identical creatures round the corner. The Baroness motioned them forward, commanding them to split off into two groups, one hugging the left lane while the other took the right, intending to surround him. The demoness still watched him with that same neutral expression, those bright green eyes never leaving him. She was close enough now that he could see she had eyelashes when she blinked. Weird.

He couldn’t keep this up forever, going hand-to-hand with imps would lead to his death eventually, if they didn’t burn him alive with fire first. He could back up the street, but that would mean taking his eyes off the Baron. With her around, these demon’s would just keep coming.

He needed to buy time for the pilot, fast. He wracked his brain for ideas, still holding the dying imp like a body shield, its slimy fluids drenching most of his forearm at this point.

“Way I see it, it’s you who’s ‘flummoxed’ right now,” Eva chimed in, helpfully. He was about to scold her, but he stopped himself, a wild tactic coming to mind.

He rolled the imp forward, its head lolling, then moved his blade aside. Steeling himself, he plunged his offhand into the wound, sinking his hand up to the wrist. Squishy, malleable shapes brushed the tips of his fingers, Andreas closing his fist around the closest one.

There was some resistance, but he pulled the wet chunk of meat free, shoving the imp aside as he held out his prize. The mass resting was something out of a nightmare, encased in pink pipes oozing fluid, the flesh squashing against his palm like a water balloon. He wasn’t sure if he was looking at a heart or some other organ, but for drama’s sake he hoped it was the former.

“Seargent,” Eva said. “you better not do what I think you’re about to do…”